Dragon Bones (Hurog #1)(44)

She shook her head and made a shrinking motion with her hands. I looked down again and considered what she'd said. Estian was an old city, maybe older than Hurog. Oreg would know. From this height, successions of city walls, each added as the population outgrew the safer space inside, gave the impression that the city had been laid out by a spider of some sort. The older inner walls were softened by the buildings that had been built against them.

I frowned. The outermost wall was narrower and shorter than the wall that had preceded it. There were few buildings between the outer two walls. For the most part, the space was filled with the blackened remains left by the fire that had ravaged Estian near the time of my birth.

Ciarra was right. Estian was shrinking.

I slept badly that night; I kept hearing bells. But when I sat up and looked around the first two times, everyone else was asleep. The third time, Ciarra and Oreg, who were on watch, were both gone.

I woke Tosten up and moved to Axiel, while Tosten woke Penrod. Axiel opened his eyes before I could utter my whispered warning, but neither he nor I could wake Bastilla, who slept as one drugged.

"I'll stay with her," offered Penrod in our whispered conference.

I nodded at him, and the rest of us set off to look for Ciarra.

"It's too dark to track," whispered Axiel. "We need to split up and meet somewhere."

"Let's meet at the wall," I said pointing to the silhouette of the tallest section of wall where the comical men held the tower upon their shoulders. I knew where she was; I'd found her and Oreg some time before. My magic was telling me that if they weren't at the wall, they were somewhere very close to it. But, for some reason, I knew I wanted to go there alone first. It was such a strong feeling that later I decided it hadn't been my own. So I sent Axiel and Tosten off.

The summer night was alive with the sounds of insects and night hunters going about their business. The white, ghostly shape of a haar owl flew above me, making the distinctive sound for which it was named. The scattered stones made it impossible to run, but I wasted no time heading for the wall.

Ciarra stood on top of the wall where she had been earlier this evening. The cool night wind ruffled her hair as she stared at Estian. Oreg lay curled into a small ball on the ground at the base of the wall.

"Ciarra," I said kneeling next to Oreg's huddled form. "Oreg, what's wrong?"

"I can't," he cried out. "I can't stop it, master. I tried, I tried...Aethervon..."

"Ciarra, do you know what happened to him?" I asked.

She faced me then, and the hairs on the back of my neck crawled, and a chill clenched my heart, for her eyes glowed a brilliant orange in the night. She put out her hand and something materialized in the darkness, a great beast that made Ciarra look even smaller than she was. It shoved its head under her hand, like a cat asking for a scratch. I was close enough to smell the predatory odor of its breath.

"Ciarra?"

My sister smiled gently and spoke. "Wardwick of Hurog, there will yet be dragons if thou art willing to pay the price." There was no tone to her voice at all, it could have belonged to a man or woman, child or grandfather.

"Hush," I said to Oreg, who was still muttering soft, broken words to himself.

"Child of the dragon killer, choose thy path carefully, for in the end it will be thy choice upon which everything rests, but the heart of the dragon is rotten through." Her voice this time rang with bass overtones; it might have been my father's.

Numbly, I recalled the stories I'd heard of Menogue.

There had been a seer here who would speak at the god's dictation. The last seer had died when Menogue was razed.

"I didn't find..." Axiel's voice fell silent as he came around a large block of stone to see us.

"Son of the dwarf king, what brings thee to this circumstance?" She was all female this time, with a sensuousness that had never belonged to my sister.

"Prophecy and necessity," he answered plainly after a moment in which he took in the scene before him. "My people are dying."

"Thy father dreamed a dream," agreed Ciarra, now sounding like a child much younger than she was. "And you are necessary for the cleansing."

"Ciarra!" It was Tosten, sounding out of breath as if he'd been running.

"Singer," she said in a musical tenor.

He stopped dead at the sound of her voice.

"Dig out thy knowledge and use it well. Minstrels have always been close to the way of the spirit, and melancholy touches their heels. But be thou a warrior, also. This world has need of song and sword."

"What have you done to Bastilla and Oreg?" I asked, tiring of Aethervon's games. Oreg was shuddering and shivering against my hands, whispering to himself, and it made me angry.

"The woman woke before times," said Ciarra, this time in my mother's light, faraway tone. "She'll sleep until morningtide under Tamerlain spell." The big animal pulled away from Ciarra's touch and dropped to the ground.

Unblinking eyes caught mine and tried to pull me into them. I tugged my gaze away and turned back to Ciarra. "And Oreg?" My mouth was dry; ignoring the bear-sized predator standing almost on top of me wasn't easy.

"Quit, now, Tamerlain. Thou'll never catch a dragon so," chided my father's voice, rich with amusement. "That one tried to overreach himself and needed a reminder of what he is." Oreg flinched at each sound Ciarra made, reminding me of the day he'd inflicted wounds upon himself in Hurog's great hall.