Chronicles of the Last Days Chapter 21

Chapter 20

D

arna stayed at the Defenders’ hall all day while Myril went out. She came back just after dark, carrying a satchel of bread from the temple kitchens and a jar of stew. They ate and slept. In the morning, Darna woke to the sound of someone on the stair. Myril coming back? But no, Myril was sleeping beside her. She tried to sit up and every muscle in her body protested, especially the ones around her womb.

“Who’s there?” Her voice caught from lack of use.

The steps on the stair stopped.

“What do you mean, ‘Who’s there?’ Who are you?”

“It’s Darna.”

“Oh!” It was Eppie. She bounded in, carrying a bulging bag of bread and a jar of tea. “I thought some of the others might have come back too, so I brought these. Also in case I got stuck in here. I saw that fleet coming and I just… I just couldn’t stand there in the mountains while they looted Anamat.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Myril said. “Have you seen Thorat?”

“No. Why?”

“I dreamed that he was near,” Myril said.

“Wouldn’t surprise me if he came back,” Eppie said.

“What did you see out there?” Myril asked.

Eppie sat down and poured herself some tea, then passed the jar to Myril and Darna. “I went to Coradun, that was where Sovara sent me, and then looked over the mountains into Lemirun. There was no life at Corana’s gate except for an apple tree full of fruit, still ripe.”

“Even in winter?”

Eppie nodded. “It was no different at Lemira’s gate except that there was only a lot of fresh, green grass. Every night that I slept by her gate, I dreamed of dragons until the last, and then I dreamed that all of Anamat was falling like Anara’s island did, so I came back.”

“What’s happening here now, this morning?” Darna asked.

“That new fleet is landing,” Eppie said. “I saw a messenger from there go to the harbor temple, and then a priestess ran to the other shrines. We should go.”

“Are they Lerat’s ships?” Myril asked.

“Who’s Lerat?” Eppie asked.

“Wait, I’ll go see.” Myril went out onto the landing while Darna got herself dressed and finished her cup of tea. She came back quickly.

“They are Lerat’s. It’s our only hope of getting these texts to some place safe,” Myril said. The boxes at the back of the training hall weren’t large, and there were sacks at the back of the room, which would make them easy to carry.

“Half the harbor temple is on their way out already,” Eppie said. “There might not be room for us.”

“There’ll have to be,” Myril said.

The building shook, sending a roof tile to the courtyard below. Darna felt it in her bones. “I think we’d better hurry.”

#

Because so many Cereans were on the horizon, Jasela had closed the gates to petitioners again almost as soon as they’d been opened. The other priestesses weren’t happy about it – a full moon-round without petitioners already meant that they had only what they’d gathered before Midwinter, and many of them needed more, and they were hungry for direct contact with the world outside temple walls. Iola was allowed to stay on in the ambassadress’s quarters, but with Darna gone, it seemed too quiet.

Iola sat looking at Anara’s statue for the first half of the day after Darna had disappeared. No one came at midday to bring her dinner, as if they’d forgotten about her. She didn’t mind – she wasn’t hungry. She didn’t know where Darna had gone, but she’d left the egg, so she couldn’t have gone too far.

After midday, Iola went up to the tower and looked at the bright, empty sky. Some clouds moved into a shape that suggested one of the lesser dragons. She stared at the East Canal for a long time, as if staring at it could make its dragonlet materialize. All that she saw was a sea dragon, far away, and only for an instant. The ships that had been on the horizon were at the mouth of the bay, and she could see another fleet coming in from the east. They looked like Theranian ships, but she wasn’t sure.

It got cold after dark, so she went back down and crawled into bed. She drank a little wine and found some old bread that Darna had stashed away. She slept.

And then someone was calling her name. Not “Most Blessed One,” not even “ambassadress” or “priestess,” but “Iola.” Instantly, she was awake, feeling all the hungers of her body, and thirst. She took a drink from the jar by her bed to loosen her sleep-thick voice and called back. “I’m coming!”

She found the grille, and Thorat on the other side, stinking of sewage and stumbling with cold.

“Get into the baths,” she said. He was chilled to the bone and the bath was steaming. She put a hand in. Hot, too hot. “Don’t,” she said. “It’s gone too hot. The dragons are coming closer again; they’re too close for it to be safe in there.”

He began to shiver violently. She found a cold bucket and mixed it with hot from the bath and sluiced it over him, washing him until he smelled like a human again and until the shaking had eased enough that he could talk.

“Lie with me” was all he said, and so they did, making no pretense that it was for the dragons. At last, they could be themselves with each other.

#

She woke up in Thorat’s arms. Bright midday light streamed in through the clerestories. The chamber shook. Far away, a wall of stone fell noisily.

“Thorat?” she said.

He grunted and rolled over. He looked wretched with exhaustion, but he was there in the flesh, touching her. She wished that she could let him go on sleeping, just so she could keep looking at him. They’d rinsed the muck from his clothes and laid them on the side table. They were damp but no longer dripping wet. Someone was at her gate. What if they found him, she worried, but who would find him? The other priestesses? They wouldn’t condemn her for doing what they wanted to do themselves, and it didn’t matter anymore.

Over their heads, the roof was falling, not quickly, but it was definitely falling. She’d seen it shaking in the quakes before, but this time, the trusses were shaking loose. The golden statue of Anara tilted, its eyes dull and lifeless. The spirit of the dragon had gone out of it as all of Anara’s energy plunged into the stones below, to make something new of them or to take them down into the other realm.

She shook Thorat’s shoulder. “You have to wake up,” she said, but he only mumbled and burrowed under the covers. It reminded her of trying to wake Myril when she’d spent all night reading, back when they were novices. Where was Myril now?

Thorat’s eyes blinked open. “I think you’d better get up,” Iola said again. “Someone’s here.” She handed him his mostly dried clothes and went to the door. It was one of the novices.

“Most Blessed One!” she said breathlessly. “The Aralel says to gather whatever you can carry. Practical clothes for outside, and something to sell in case you need to. They’re sending whatever provisions they can from the kitchen to the ships. Hurry. We’ll all have to go at once!”

“Go where?”

“To the ships. To the wilds beyond Ganat, they say. Haven’t you seen?” She gestured to the sky to the west. “The mountains are on fire, and the hill temple and the palace too. The Cereans are landing and Lerat’s boats are waiting. We must bring whatever we can.”

“Bring it where?”

“I don’t know, but we need to go. They all say so.”

“Tell Jasela I’ll come soon. Tell her not to wait for me.”

Someone in the peresi’s garden shouted at the novice to hurry. Beyond Iola’s gate, the peresi’s courtyard looked like a market square at closing time as blankets and tapestries were turned into bundles, hastily shouldered.

When Iola turned around again, Thorat was standing behind her.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “I need to get my sword and to go to the training hall before we leave.”

“Don’t leave me. They won’t let you back in.”

“They’ll all be gone. There’ll be no one to stop me or to stop anyone else. You have to come with me.”

“I will,” Iola said. “I’ll go with you wherever you go.”

“Really?”

Iola smiled. “What else is there?”

Thorat took her hands in his for a slow moment, then they broke apart to gather a few things from Iola’s chamber, a handful of jewels and some of the more practical clothes. Iola didn’t know what she’d need. Thorat arranged them into a pack on her back and found a plain, dark cloak that she could wear over everything. They couldn’t go out the way Thorat had come in – Iola couldn’t swim, it would ruin the clothes, and the end was most likely shut – so she led him out to the back courtyard.

A throng of priestesses had gathered there, young and old, carrying everything they could. They could all hear the sound of metal on metal coming from the front gates. Iola went straight to the priestess at the gatehouse. “I’m leaving, with him. Tell the Aralel if she asks.”

The priestess’s eyes went wide when she recognized the ambassadress. “But – but it will be safer if we all go together.”

“I’ll protect her,” Thorat said.

The priestess looked worried, but she let them out. “The winged ones go with you,” Iola said.

“I’m not sure I wish for that anymore,” the gate priestess muttered in response. The mountains were spewing smoke and ash. The ground shook again.

Iola trailed Thorat through the rattling streets, keeping her hood up. She could hear the high-heeled boots of the Cereans everywhere. Thorat retrieved his sword from under the eaves where he’d hidden it, and led the way up through a bewildering series of alleys, splashing through a low street and across what had once been a bridge. Iola tried to take everything in, to see and to remember in case she needed to get back to the temple, or anywhere else.

He turned down a side street and then into an alley. “Na’s blood,” he cursed. “It’s blocked, gone.”

“Hey, you there!” A woman called from the house beside them. “If you need to get in, you can come through my house. I’ve seen you in the yard plenty.”

Thorat thanked her.

“Some women left a while ago, that young one and two others,” the neighborly woman said. “They were carrying boxes.”

“Did one of them have red hair? The other tall and dark?” Iola asked.

The neighbor nodded. “They’ve gone to the ships.”

“I think we should go after them,” Iola said. “There isn’t much time.”

“Is anyone left inside?” Thorat asked the neighbor.

“Just that man from the West Market, the baker.”

As if responding to a summons, Garren’s voice let out a yell from inside. The woman darted into her house, and a moment later, Garren emerged the way she’d come. He’d been running, but he skidded to a halt at the sight of Thorat.

“You’re back!” he said. “I just got back to the city and…” His voice trailed off as he looked at Iola. “Your companion,” he said slowly. “You’d better get her to the ships. The shrine exploded; there’s nothing left inside, or won’t be, soon. The last I saw of Sovara was at Lemira’s gate, and she said that she would stay there until the end, her end or the dragons’. I came back for Anara.”

The woman pushed past them, a bundle slung over her shoulder. “The roof is on fire! Run!” she shouted as she ran toward the harbor.

“Why?” Iola asked Garren as she saw the smoke rising from behind him.

“The Cereans will never have Anara’s shrines. Come on. I have more work to do. Get yourselves to safety.”

“Should I come with you?” Thorat asked.

“Go with her!” Garren said. “Hurry!”

“I guess we’ll go, then,” Iola said, still unsure of her direction.

Thorat nodded, looking grim. “If only we could see Anara.”

“I’d stay for that,” Iola said. They started to walk. “She’ll be down at the harbor if she’s anywhere.”

“I’d like to say goodbye to the others,” Thorat said.

“Let’s go, then, and find out what the priestesses are running to,” Iola said. She wasn’t a priestess anymore. Her world was ending. She realized that she had never truly been happy until that moment. “We’ll stay, though, won’t we?” She smiled at Thorat and ran, laughing, to say goodbye to everyone else she’d ever cared for.

#

The sea was a mass of sailing boats tossed on the waves, as if every trading ship and fishing boat in the known world had converged on Anamat. Eppie and Myril carried as much as they could between them, texts and swords, while Darna limped behind, carrying only a small bundle of the Defenders’ long knives. Apart from those, she was barely able to carry herself. She didn’t even have her tools, not that she was likely to get much chance to use them again.

It seemed to take them half the day to get across the city, and they had to wade most of the way. The wind had picked up, and despite the sun, the air was cold. A plume of ash drifted up from the volcano in the harbor. They went past the walls to a place where a new inlet had formed, out beyond the East Market, or what had once been the East Market. People were getting into small boats and tenders and going out to the fleet of ships just at the edge of the deep water, all their movements chaotic. Darna took the lead and cut a swath through the crowd to a likely-looking small boat.

“We’re looking for Lerat,” Myril told one of the sailors there.

“You and everyone else. He’s over in the middle of that crowd.” The sailor pointed to a mass of shouting people grouped around a low rise in the land.

Myril shivered.

“You can do it,” Darna said. “I’ll watch your side.”

“And I’m on your other side,” Eppie said.

They elbowed their way forward to where Lerat sat on a high pile of crates in front of a long line of people waiting to speak to him. He kept his eyes moving, scanning the crowd. When he saw Myril, he nodded to her. He said something to the man next to him, who nodded and then made his way toward them.

“Captain says to bring you to his ship. He’ll be along later.”

“How much later?” Darna wondered.

“With the tide? I don’t know. It’s going to take all day and maybe the night to load everyone up, and some will get left behind. We’ll be the last to leave, but it’s the best ship. Come on, what did you pay him?”

Myril seemed at a loss for words, so Darna jumped in. “We have an arrangement,” she said.

“That’s lucky for you,” the sailor said. They jostled their way down to the water’s edge, where he helped them into a small boat. The moment Darna’s feet left the shore, everything felt wrong all of a sudden.

“I have to go back.”

“That’s madness,” the sailor said. “Sit down.”

“What for?” Myril asked, but then she realized too. “Don’t you think it would be better off here, with them?”

“No, I had a sign, a prophecy. Anara never tells me anything, but she said to take it far from these shores. I’m going back to get it.” Darna climbed back out of the boat.

“Get what?” Eppie said. “Never mind; I’ll come with you.”

“You might not get out,” the sailor warned. “The boats are filling fast.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Darna said.

“Where are we going?” Eppie asked her as she trotted to catch up.

“Temple.” Darna walked as fast as she was able. She looked around for something to use as a cane, and eventually she found a stout stick leaning against the wall.

They met the priestesses halfway back to the temple, flooding toward the shore and the boats. Darna flattened herself against the wall, looking down at her feet, hoping that none of them would recognize her. No one did, not until the very end.

“You there!” The woman was wearing the Aralel’s robes. It was the new Aralel, Jasela. “Come with us, for your own safety.”

Darna shook her head, then decided to approach the new Aralel. “Did anyone get the egg?” she asked.

Jasela looked puzzled. “What egg? What?”

“No one told you about it? It’s in the ambassadress’s quarters. If she’s there –”

“The Most Blessed One left, with a man,” said a nearby priestess.

The Aralel frowned.

“She wasn’t carrying much,” the priestess supplied.

“I’m going back in,” Darna said.

“They’ll rape and kill you,” Jasela warned. “I’ve seen them. The gates at the front broke.”

“I’ll kill them first,” Eppie said.

“You shouldn’t go either,” the Aralel said. “You’re young. They won’t care that you don’t think you’re a priestess.”

“We’ll hurry,” Eppie said. “Besides, I know the back way.”

It was clear from the expression on Jasela’s face that she had no idea what Eppie was talking about, but she let them go. “May the dragons fly with you,” she said.

“And with you, Your Holiness,” Darna replied.

Moments later, they were in the back courtyard. The invaders hadn’t reached it yet, though they were noisily crashing through the front part of the temple. Eppie led the way past the kitchens and into a corridor near the old sanctuary, then into the closet and down a long, dark passage hidden behind some storage shelves. They could hear the sound of breaking wood through the walls, war whoops, the clatter of things being stuffed into bags, looting. At the end of the passage, Eppie pushed the hidden door open. She paused before they stepped out into the garden.

There were two Cerean armsmen standing just inside the ambassadress’s gate.

“Take your sandals off and sneak in quietly,” Eppie said. “I’ll guard your back.”

Darna nodded. She left her sandals just inside the passage and dashed from there to the cover of a tree beside the bath’s outer wall. She edged along the wall toward the porch.

“Boss is in there,” one of the Cerean guards said to someone outside, in Cerean. “This is his claim.”

Whoever it was grunted and went away.

“Did you hear something?” the other guard said.

Darna ducked down, stilled her breath, and listened. She could hear whoever it was inside. The Cereans’ boss. Well, she’d have to take her chances with him, and she did have a very good knife in her belt. She wondered if Eppie had heard, but she was out of sight, and besides, Eppie didn’t understand Cerean. She looked back. Eppie was nowhere to be seen. Darna darted in through the door to the gilded marble chamber that had been her prison since Midsummer.

He didn’t hear her at first. He was looking at the egg and looking at his pack. He had a ledger in his hand and was making notes of some kind. A large crate stood at the center of the room, half full with ornaments gleaned from around the room. The statue of Anara slumped sideways over the offering place and was littered with shards of marble and dust, but he still made a warding gesture as he turned to it.

“Melted down,” he muttered to himself. “Melted down, it could buy my freedom even now.”

Then he saw Darna. He took a step back and drew a long, curved dagger from his belt. It was an elegant piece of work but not Theranian. In reply, Darna drew her own dagger. It was hot in her hand. It had a dragon stone in it. She hoped Giri wouldn’t be able to tell or, if he did notice, that it would frighten him.

“If you’d wanted your freedom, you could have had it a long time ago,” she said.

“Not what you call freedom. That’s only slavery to these…things.” He waved dismissively at the statue of Anara. “Did my men let you in as some kind of joke?”

“They don’t know that I’m here.”

“Are you a ghost, then, to drift past them unseen?”

“Maybe so,” Darna said. “Or maybe the dragons are playing tricks with you.”

Giri’s lip twitched. He fumbled with his dagger. “If you’re a ghost, you won’t bleed,” he said, edging closer.

“That’s right,” Darna said. She sidestepped, moving closer to the egg, still brandishing her own dagger.

“I’ll get you,” Giri said.

One of the men called from outside. “Hey, boss! You need a hand in there?”

“Not yet,” he said. He turned back to Darna. “I’d like to show you that I’m not your enemy.”

“Really? What else could you be? You betrayed me and all of us.”

“That betrayal, much as it may have hurt you at the time, pained me, but it got me much further toward this position than I could have otherwise. If you don’t curse me – and I know that you can – then I’ll give you your choice of the things here.”

“They belong more to me than they do to you.”

“But you, ghost-girl, have no armed men to carry them for you. I’ll see you down to your ship with it and make sure that the men don’t touch you. Then you may go where you like.”

Darna didn’t believe him, but she didn’t want to have him test her ghostliness with his dagger and wasn’t confident enough that she’d be able to get him with hers.

“Step outside for a moment,” Darna said. “Speak with your men. Ask for two more to come. I may wish to take something heavy.”

“Very well, ghost-girl.”

The moment his back was turned, she swept the egg into a blanket from the sleeping nook. The blanket smelled of sex. Who had come? Then she remembered that the priestess had said that Iola had been with a man. It had to be Thorat. There was no other man she would have left with. Darna threw the egg in its blanket over her shoulder and went into the bath chamber just as Giri returned, with four armed men at his back.

“There’s no girl here,” one of them said.

Giri looked around. She hoped he felt foolish. She went over to the wall where once or twice a way had opened into the garden for her, out to the back of the temple. Yes, it was still there, but the magic in the walls was gone, but there was still power in the egg on her back and in the stone of her dagger. She set the stone against the wall and pushed. She fell through into the garden as the world shook again. She heard the eruption of a volcano somewhere far away.

Eppie was still waiting at the end of the passage. “Hurry!” Darna said. “Lock it!”

“I can’t,” Eppie said. “It’s broken.”

Darna handed her the sacked egg. “We’ll have to jam it, then.” She found a loose rock and pried it free, then used it to smash the gate.

“Out there!” Giri shouted. His voice echoed strangely. Rocks fell.

“We’d better run,” Eppie said. She sprinted back along the passageway as it crumbled. They wove past the foreigners looting the back courtyard and out into the streets. Darna kept her long knife in one hand and struggled to keep up with Eppie. Along the way, splashing and staggering past the remains of the East Gate, they met a gang of men so foreign that Darna couldn’t even guess where they came from. Eppie passed Darna the egg, drew her sword, and neatly sliced the leader across the chest. That dissuaded the others and they ran off, in search of less well-armed loot.

At the shore, the crowds had thinned. On the sea, the ships lay heavy in the water, but there were still people waiting at Lerat’s feet. They shouldered their way back toward him.

“Eppie!” someone called. Darna turned to see Kinner pushing his way through the crowd. “Where have you been?! I was afraid you were gone or dead!”

It was as if he didn’t even see Darna. She smirked. Perhaps he’d forgotten her when she’d gone into the temple, but he clearly hadn’t forgotten Eppie, who was red-faced from running and fighting but now also quite clearly blushing.

“Will you come with us?” Kinner said. “We’re going to Calandria, the Chronicler and Nolerin. I said I’d go with them.”

“Nolerin’s there?”

“Your Highness! Pardon me,” Kinner stammered. “I didn’t see you.”

Darna would have told him that she didn’t mind, but just then, someone else called her name. She turned to see Iola sailing through the crowd. Her voice was clear as a bell, and even with a pack on her back and a plain, dark cloak, something about her commanded attention.

“We need to talk to Lerat and get on the ship,” Eppie said.

“They won’t be able to carry everyone,” Thorat said.

“All the more reason to hurry,” Kinner said.

Thorat and Iola followed them through the dwindling crowd to Lerat, who recognized Darna and waved her forward.

“We’re low in the water,” he said. “I thought that you were aboard my ship already, Regent of Tiadun.”

“I had to go back to the temple for something important. Along the way back, I met these two. May they sail with us?”

“Who are they that I should take them when there are others still fleeing?”

“One is among the last of the Defenders of the Dragons, and the other the last living woman to have flown with the dragons.”

Lerat nodded. “Row them out to my ship,” he said to one of the sailors. “You go to the Chronicler?” he asked Kinner.

Kinner nodded but looked hesitatingly at Eppie. “I’ll go with Darna,” Eppie said. “But I’ll meet you in Calandria.”

“If we survive,” Kinner said. He looked at the sea with dread in his eyes, and Darna remembered how he’d been declared useless for fishing in his home village because of his seasickness. She squeezed his hand.

“You’ll survive,” she assured him, “and you’ll see Eppie again; I’m sure of it.”

Darna climbed into the boat first and Eppie handed her the egg. With the egg in her lap, she felt steady again, even though the boat tipped crazily.

Iola and Thorat hung back, not wading out to the boat at all.

“Come on,” Eppie urged. Clouds had come up and rain was starting to fall. The earth shook again.

“We’re staying,” Iola said.

“We’ll see Anara one last time,” Thorat said. “We can go to the hills. Let someone else go beyond the seas in our place.”

“But…” Eppie reached out to Thorat. He shook his head. She let her hand drop.

Kinner climbed into the boat too. There were people were trying to get on, but the oarsmen shooed them away. There simply wasn’t room for everyone.

“Send Myril my love,” Iola said. “Thorat and I might not live, but she will, and I’ll see the winged ones again.”

“May they go with you,” Darna said. She turned away. They had what they wanted, which was each other, but she hated to leave them so soon.

“Go with each other, then, like Ara and Enat. You are Ara and Enat, you know,” Eppie said.

“I’ll let two more on, then?” a sailor said. Eppie nodded and two more climbed onto the boat, then they rowed away from the sinking shore of Anamat forever.

#

Lenasa met Myril as she reached the ship and embraced her. “Thank you for sending me with Lerat,” she said. “You may wait in our cabin if you like. If I’m not going to be a priestess anymore, or a princess, I might as well be a merchant’s wife and scribe.”

Myril waited in the cabin, trying not to hear all of the chaos outside. The gentle rocking of the boat kept increasing until it made her feel ill. She went out onto the deck and found a quiet corner behind some barrels, where she sat down to listen and to watch Lenasa commanding the newcomers to the ship, telling them where they might rest and where they could and could not go. She wore her authority easily.

The hills were smoking and the sky was darkening with rainclouds. The wind blew cold; the waves grew longer, larger. The city’s roofs ran up the hill in waves, much like the sea. Dragonlets had lived there. That city had contained Myril’s whole life since she was very young, but now it was falling as the earth shook it down and looters ran through its streets. Many boats had set sail already, trying to get out ahead of the storm. From the deck of one of them, a priestess with a sword on her sash waved. It was Sunna.

“On to the wilds beyond Ganat!” she called out.

Myril waved back. She could see Jasela on that boat too, and some of the elders. Part of her heart went with them, but she could not sense Iola among them. She listened. She thought that she heard Iola, running through the streets with Thorat by her side. They were together. Iola would not want her anymore, if she ever had, no more than she would want anything beyond the dragons’ shores.

Later on, a familiar voice drew her attention to a nearby ship, an Enomaean one. She stood and ran to the rail. It seemed to be the Chronicler, of all people.

“Lord Chronicler,” she called. “Where do you go?”

He looked too surprised to answer. A turbaned head came up beside him. “You are Darna’s friend, the healer?” he said. “I am Nolerin, who guided her horse across the mountains. I will guide your guildmaster to a place where it is safe.”

“But the priestesses are going somewhere safe too, I think,” Myril said.

The Chronicler cleared his throat and found his voice. “No, last of our guild-priestesses. The place they go to is safe for women, not so much so for texts. They carry some with them, but my friend here says he knows another place. If one place is better than another, some of our tales will survive. We scatter them over the earth, and where the soil is gentle, they will take root.”

His friend, he’d said. Of course. Myril felt foolish for never having seen it before. The Chronicler was old, but he wasn’t a celibate by choice; it was only that there were few men he desired, and fewer still who felt the same for him.

“May they wing you on your way,” she said.

Nolerin and the Chronicler whispered to one another in a language she did not understand. “Come with us,” Nolerin invited her. “You can meet us in Calandria, at the temple there. We will wait for you.”

Myril promised to ask for passage to Calandria, then she went back belowdecks to wait for whoever else would come.

#

Lerat’s ship sailed out into a thunderstorm that evening. Behind them, the city fell in a rain of thunder. When they looked back, all they could see above the waves was a single gold-roofed tower falling, and Anara’s wings sketched on the clouds, or maybe it was only spines of lightning.

That was the last anyone saw of Anamat, as far as the histories go.

“I wonder where they are now,” Darna said as they sailed away.

“Thorat and Iola?” Eppie said.

“They’re together, and with the dragons,” Myril said. “That’s all either of them has ever wanted. They’re blessed. They always were, even though it’s also a curse.”

Darna nodded. “So it is.”

Water lapped past the prow, and the night sky shone bright with milky stars overhead.

#

In the morning, they found themselves on an empty sea with no other ships in sight. The sea was still murky but the sky had cleared. A ragged strip of land ran along the horizon.

“What land is that?” Eppie asked.

Lerat shook his head. “I can’t say for sure, but we can’t have sailed further than the end of Theranis.”

Darna went to the rail and squinted, trying to pick out familiar shapes in the dark landform. “Could it be Tiadun?” she asked, so quietly that she thought no one but Myril would hear her.

“Could be.” Lerat’s voice boomed. “Let’s go have a look.”

With one wave of his arm, he had the ship turning toward the sunset, the sailors also eager to find out what this place was, even if it was treacherous ground hollowed out by the dragons’ retreat.

Myril came to her side. “Do you want to go?” she asked.

Darna nodded. “I see smoke from the hills, campfire smoke. It could be Vigda or some of the villagers I once knew.” She turned to Lerat. “Take me to that shore. It’s time for me to claim my throne.”

#

Darna landed on the shore of what had been Tiadun and followed the trails of smoke to her mother’s moving hearthside. In the lowlands, she traced the dragon’s dormant currents and built the shells of temples where those streams surfaced. The stones would call them back when they rose, and would call her hatchling home when it spread its wings. The beacons are there still, waiting.

Myril and Eppie passed through Calandria like a wisp, invisible in the city’s vastness. Kinner joined them there and they journeyed to a desert temple far from the green valley of Anamat. There, the dragon’s egg waits for a distant time, far beyond its homeland’s final sunrise.

As for Thorat and Iola, no one knows, except that they were together at the end.

#