Promise of Dusk (Endings #1)

Chapter 43

The mountain on fire glows in the starlit sky. Flames bleed down its side, clouds emerging from where the hot blood meets the sea and its light dims. The joining of worlds is nearby.

Smoke and ash rain down, even upon the dragon’s back, soaring through the night sky.

Erron and I stopped laughing eventually. The laughter trickled out slowly, the seriousness of our mission bringing stillness to our mood and hardening the elation into resolve.

A keening cry echoes across the landscape. It sounds like part threat, part invitation.

Rignon responds with one of his own, vibrating my very being with its volume.

Rignon picks up speed slightly, tilting his body towards the noise.

“We have a mission, Rignon,” Erron calls out firmly.

Rignon keeps his pace and direction.

“When we return,” Erron reasons. A pause, then a grunt from both males.

Rignon banks right, back in the original direction, with a disgruntled shake of the head, like he’s shaking off his primal urges.

In the distance, near the fields of black stone that cover red dirt, a brilliant green dragon perches on a cliff’s edge.

“What was that noise?” I ask.

“A dragon that lurks in the lava tubes—the veins beneath the mountains—she patrols the space around the rift well enough that we don’t have to spare many patrols out this far. I sent Gwen out there by chance the day she found you. My people have taken to calling the dragon ‘the Dark Fury.’ She has a distinct aversion to Fae.”

“Was Rignon going to fight her?” I ask, unable to imagine such power used against something of equal measure. I shudder at the thought.

“No… The Dark Fury is his mate. He’s spent much time traveling with me recently. He misses her.”

“They only have one mate?” I ask dumbly.

“Strictly.” There’s a smile in his voice. “They bond like the Fae, though I think it’s a bit more voluntary. They develop a sort of mind-soul connection. It came as quite a surprise when we found out that they have similar mental abilities to us. We thought the Fae were some of the only beings that could.”

“That is strange,” I say as we descend slowly, moving to land beside Vyrain and Gwen. “Humans don’t do that. There is no mental link to other humans, nor to other living things.”

“ That is strange.”

Rignon kicks up dust as he lands at a bit of a run.

I spot Gwen sitting regally upon Vyrain. She looks like a warrior princess. Her warm toned brown hair is pulled back in a long braid that brushes the rear crest of her saddle. Her tan skin is covered almost completely by leather, her sword sheathed at her waist.

Erron calls out to her, “I’m surprised you beat us here.”

“I’m not.” She dusts off the spotless shoulders of her leathers. “That beast of yours grows lazy. He’s never as fast as Vyrain.”

Rignon lets out a bone-chilling growl. Vyrain looks down her nose at him—even as he stands taller than her—preening at the praise from her rider. Gwen just smirks at Rignon, unfazed.

Seeing the two dragons beside one another throws their features into stark contrast. Rignon is significantly larger than Vyrain, both in bulk and height. His limbs are stockier. His legs and neck are proportionately thicker with muscle. Vyrain is slenderer of build, seemingly built for swiftness and agility.

“He has traveled many more leagues recently than Vyrain. He hasn’t had as much time for midday naps as some have. Pardon him for pacing himself,” Erron says to Rignon’s defense.

“And many more lay ahead.” Gwen gestures to the entrance of a cave large enough for even Rignon to fit through, barely. “This tunnel seems large enough for the dragons up until the rift. Shall we?”

The dragons shake out their crests, seemingly agitated as we approach the cave entrance. Vyrain leads the way, walking comfortably into it on four legs. Rignon must tuck his wings in and duck his head to enter, the darkness swallowing us all. If I stood in the saddle I could reach the ceiling of the cave with my hand. The dragon’s steps on rough rock echo down the many tunnels that branch off in all directions.

Both Gwen and Erron light the way with flames. While Erron uses a ball in the palm of his hand—holding it at my side—Gwen creates lines of flame down the outside of each arm. I wonder if she does it because she looks amazing, or if she just wants to keep her hands free.

The air feels charged here, like wisps of energy caressing my senses. I feel as though I could cast out a net and harness enough power to live off for weeks. As it is, I reach out a psychic hand and feel the prickles of power all over my body. I cannot help but absorb some of it. It feels like drops of crisp water from an ice-cold mountain stream in a parched mouth. Gwen and Erron appear like blazing beacons in the night—their energy vibrant, though tightly shielded.

Rignon and Vyrain feel like angry masses of pure whirling power. It is swathed in spikes of adamant. To try to pull from them would grievously wound me.

As the dragons trek through the darkness, I feel it far ahead—that weaving of energy, interlocked hands of pure power. The fabrics of two worlds, intimately joined.

Vyrain’s easy walk turns into a slink, her tail whipping across the rocky ground as she feels it too. Rignon grumbles unhappily.

“Their dislike of this place—or more the humans themselves—is inherited. The fact that these two are willing to pass through the rift is a testament only to our bond,” Erron murmurs in my ear. His breath tickles.

“Why?” I ask, shrinking from the feeling, pressing into the curve of his arm on the other side.

“I’m not exactly sure. When we learned of the rift here, of where it led, our bonded discouraged us from exploring the other world. I take it that there have been relations between the two species before that went awry. Their feelings are that humans are fickle, greedy. That they know no loyalty and aren’t to be trusted. Do you agree?”

The answer feels obvious, but it also feels like condemning a whole group of people that don’t deserve it.

“Are we fickle? I suppose we would seem that way to a people that are so long-lived and fixed,” I say, pausing to consider how to make him understand. “We have such little time to grow certain of ourselves—of our paths. I think, on some level, maybe we worry that we are wasting our time. Feel that we won’t have the time to experience all that we desire. It makes us… question ourselves. And at the same time makes us act without full thought.

“Are we greedy? The worst of us are, even when born under the best of circumstances. The best of us aren’t, even under the worst. And there are many in the middle, who pick and choose when to reach for what they want—based on too many things to list.” I think of Mariana’s face as she warned me of what happened to Diana. She is loyal to her core, even to someone who did not deserve it. “There is loyalty among us. Great loyalty.”

There is nothing but the rolling movements of Rignon beneath us as my companions in the tunnel absorb what I’ve said. The dragons have no protest to my words, to my surprise.

“You speak of humans as though you are one,” Gwen calls back, her flame-lined arms flickering with Vyrain’s steps.

“I do,” I say. “I feel like one still, even after discovering my power. They shaped me as much, if not more, than my mother’s womb did.” Though I’ll never fully belong to them, I don’t say. I’ll never fully belong with anyone. I’m painfully stuck between three peoples, to whatever end.

“It is a unique circumstance,” Erron states quietly.

“Quite,” Gwen says, with an edge. I see the rift up ahead, the firelight reflecting off it. “It is a miracle, that a Fae female was able to get her baby across the rift, without herself. And that you were able to settle with a family, one that knew nothing of you, or where you came from.” Her voice reveals her suspicion.

Vyrain brushes her nose over the barrier before melting through it, like one would pass through the surface of water.

Erron says nothing to Gwen’s blatant challenge. I don’t know if he shares her suspicion. He only says, “Rignon will offer energy enough for both of us.”

Rignon bristles and smashes his tail against the wall of the cave, seeming to work up the resolve to follow Vyrain. He eventually lowers his horned brow, first meeting resistance before the rift allows him through.

I fell through the last rift I crossed. This time, it is nearly as disorienting as that. I pass through the wavering barrier, my body feeling as though it goes through great pressure. My head spins and ears pop.

Coming out on the other side feels as though someone has thrown a blanket over my senses. My power feels as though it is wading through mud, requiring exponentially more effort to grasp onto anything.

The space on this new side is just as dark, different tunnels branching out in every direction. The dragons are both releasing low grumbles that echo ominously. Their crests are like hackles, raised and alarmed.

I look back at Erron to see him panting, looking as alarmed as I’ve seen him since that moment I crawled over his desk.

I place a hand on his knee beside mine. “It’s fine. This is normal. This is what the others said they experienced as well when they landed here. You get used to it.”

“Get used to it?” Gwen’s voice is shrill and angry. “I’ll get used to it just like I’ll get used to being blind!” Her teeth are gritted as she turns to me, “If you have brought us here to trap us, changeling, I will butcher you myself.”

The dragons both eye me viciously, making my heartbeat speed-up and palms sweat.

“No. I haven’t. The worlds are different, and it feels wrong. I know. I didn’t realize how wrong until now, otherwise I would have warned you. I’m sorry.” I recall Gwen’s words before the rift. “And I understand if the circumstances surrounding my landing in Suri are suspicious. It is something I have dwelt upon myself, to no end. I have no idea how I ended up there, or who brought me.” The words feel so powerless I feel as though I may as well have stayed silent., but I’m flailing now, desperate to be believed. “I think it may have been Diana. She was from Danu, though I never saw evidence of any power from her. I didn’t even know she was Danaan until we were separated. She was always just the healer in my village, but she knew a lot about me when I was a baby. She spoke of it once. She knew Fionn, but never joined the Fianna for some reason. She’s the only explanation for how I got there, as she stayed near me my whole life.”

They ponder my words for long seconds.

“I would like to speak to this Diana,” Gwen states, still glaring.

“She’s dead,” I say, voice breaking.

“Convenient,” Gwen says.

“I know. I know you don’t trust me. I don’t know how to fix that. But what if you turn back now, and I wasn’t lying?” I plea. “There will be many chances to corroborate my stories.”

“Not if you have an army of Fomorians waiting on the outside of this cave,” Gwen pushes.

“Then go look. Keep me here. If you don’t return quickly, Erron can kill me and turn back. Even if there were Fomorians waiting out there, none would be prepared to take on Vyrain,” I reason.

Erron tenses at my back.

I feel, more than see, Gwen sizing me up. “Fine. I will go.” She dismounts Vyrain, falling to the rocky ground in one leap. She lands without injury. “Vyrain will stay. We cannot risk them knowing about the dragons. I shudder to think what they would do to harness such power.”

Vyrain disagrees, very vocally. She snarls in Gwen’s face, snapping her many teeth inches away from Gwen’s nose.

Gwen stands her ground, saying nothing back. Presumably discussing mind-to-mind.

Vyrain roars loudly, scraping talons against the ground.

So much for stealth. Surely, the town of Dun heard that.

Gwen turns and darts away, ducking into a tunnel too small for Vyrain to follow. Vyrain scrapes at the rock with her talons, unhappy with her rider’s decision, but unwilling to oppose her by following the larger opening before us that will surely take her to the outside.

Her tail whips against the cave wall as she turns to observe me, cat-eyes narrowed, teeth bared.

“She will come back,” I say, hoping I speak the truth. What if the king sent men after me? What if they are waiting there, the king having let me be the bait to lure more out from their hiding place?

“She had better,” Erron says, his first words since crossing the rift. He sounds just as rocked by this whole experience.

I turn to look at him. “I am not the enemy.” I do not drop my gaze, even as he seems to peer into my very thoughts. “I promise.”

His gaze seems to wander over the planes of my face. I must look horrible, but I hope I look honest too. He looks jarringly handsome, even in the dim firelight he’s managed to sustain.

Whatever he sees must satisfy, as he nods shortly.

We sit with bated breath until Gwen reappears, lit by flame, too stealthy for footsteps to preclude her.

She nods at the two of us atop Rignon, seemingly satisfied that no trap awaits outside the mounds. She approaches Vyrain who gives her an angry hiss, backing away. Gwen stops in her tracks, hands going to her hips. They engage in a mental argument we aren’t privy too for a handful of seconds before Vyrain begrudgingly extends a foreleg, allowing Gwen to remount her.

We navigate the tunnels until we reach the dawning light. When we clamber out into the open air, we are on the coastal side of the mounds. The sea roars at us, some violent greeting to show the dragons they are not the most powerful beings in this world.

The dragon’s scales sparkle more brilliantly in the dawn. Rignon’s opalescent scales reflect rainbows as he basks in the light. Vyrain, in all her emerald glory, perches on a rocky ledge, head tilted towards the sun.

When we tear through the skies of Suri, for once I look down upon it and feel hopeful.

I soar upon the wings of changing tides and a wrathful new dawn.