Page 86
Story: Kingdoms of Shadow and Ash
He imagined that the enormous circle of stained glass opposite the thrones didn't hold views of the tips of snow-covered conifers. That outside the colossal double doors made of dragon steel, it was sunny and warm, and that the ground bore the fruits of summer.
And then bitterness filled him, for he had never known a summer. Sure, the days got longer in the north, the same as they did in the south. If one travelled far enough into the northern territories, the summer offered no dark hours at all, but that was not the kind of summer he craved. He wanted his people to sustain themselves once more, to rely on no one. For if the world were to discover the formidable Black Hoods were not as self-reliant as they seemed …
'Well?' said Fyia.
'Well?' he replied, pulling his mind back from his imaginings.
'Are we going to do it?'
'You don't believe the legends?'
'I don't know the legends.'
'Do you want to?'
Fyia held out her hand, offering it to him. 'I know better than to believe songs and superstitions,' she said. 'If I had listened to the words of others, I would not be where I am now.'
'In a temple covered in ice?' he said. 'Inappropriately dressed, and entirely at the mercy of a foreign King?'
She smiled a slow smile, then said, 'Exactly.'
He laughed and took her hand.To hell with it. They sat on the thrones, their arms stretched inelegantly between them, hands joined under the foreboding mouth of the stone dragon. Fyia bit her lip through her grin. Her eyes darted about as though half expecting the ancient temple to come crashing down around them.
When it didn't, Cal let go of Fyia's hand and sat back on his throne, unable to find the will to chastise himself for calling ithis. Because it was. And the other was hers. It felt right … natural … foretold. And now he was here, his hands resting atop the dragon ivory inlaid in the arms of the dragon glass throne, he wondered that no Black Hood had claimed it before. That they'd been scared to even climb the steps. That no one else had wanted to bring back the dragons.
Cal had only ever voiced his desire to find the dragons to Aaron and Zhura, usually when drunk, when he could pass off his words as intoxicated dreams. But now, sitting here with Fyia, on the thrones his ancestors had sat atop, he knew with absolute certainty this was his path.
Unlike Fyia, he'd listened to those who'd told him he couldn't, or shouldn't, or that he was dreaming, that he should put all his energy and more into solving the immediate problems his people faced. But Fyia was right. If they always focused on the smoke in front of them, they would never douse the flames of the underlying blaze.
'It suits you,' said Fyia. Her head rested against the back of her throne, the dragon's claws hovering protectively above her.
'You too,' he said, reaching out his hand once more.
She eyed it, hesitated for a tick, then took it. Cal couldn’t stop the excitable smile that stole control of his face.
'What?' she laughed, biting her lip.
'I'm going to help you find the dragons.'
'You are?' She tugged on his hand.
'You're right. It's the only way to solve our problems. The only hope we have of peace and security … of unfreezing the north.'
'And in return, you want to keep that throne you sit atop?' she said, her tone still light, but her eyes telling him she was only half-joking.
Cal squeezed her fingers, then dropped her hand and stood. 'Want to see the dragon egg?'
'You've been here before?' Fyia asked, as she followed Cal through an almost hidden door behind the stone dragon.
'My people have an annual celebration here, on Dragon Day,' he said. 'The Dragon Order used to live and worship here, but it became too difficult to survive, so now they live close to Anvarn, and come here only once a year with the rest of us. I've never been able to explore freely.'
'You didn't pull the King card?' she said, raising an eyebrow.
'I've been King for only a few cycles of the moon, and I'm careful about picking my battles.'
'You never snuck around in the middle of the night?'
'Oh, believe me, I tried. The place was always teeming with people, and the devouts were well versed in heading off young Black Hoods in search of adventure. I suppose, after so many years of being caught, I stopped trying. There were always more important things to do.'
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