Page 104 of Draekora
“The Draekorans might accept you being here since you’re almost considered one of them thanks to your bond with their heir, but our people won’t be as forgiving,” Aven told her. “Please help me out here and at leasttryto avoid being seen by anyone from Meya.”
Alex peeked out around the corner and said, “I can only see draekons out there.”
“They’ll be here any minute now,” Aven replied, moving closer to glance over her shoulder, his front brushing lightly against her back.
Alex attempted to subtly wiggle away from him, but there wasn’t enough room to put any more space between them, so she resigned herself to their close proximity—at least for the moment.
“So what’s this Pool of Tears thing?” she asked again, since she hadn’t received an answer earlier. “And what’s the ceremony for?”
“It’s said that when our people were banished from Tia Auras long ago, a small number of them were bonded to draekons who also inhabited the world beyond the stars,” Aven said. “Not wanting to part with each other, those draekons and a few others left their race behind and followed the ancient Meyarins to Medora, knowing that, having lost everything, our people would need help to survive and thrive in this new place.”
“Not to mention, those draekons would have ceased living if their bonded Meyarins failed to adapt on their own,” Alex pointed out dryly, and Aven made a sound of agreement.
“Self-serving or not,” he said, “the Draekorans contributed their most sacred offering to our people—something they call theZ’ao. They taught us how to mould it into architecture to strengthen the foundation of our city, sharpen it into weapons worthy of our best warriors, refine it to combustible dust that requires no fuel to burn and guided us in many other ways to utilise it to ensure the continued evolution of our race.”
Alex craned her neck around to look up at him in shock. “Are you—You’re not talking about Myrox, are you?”
Aven nodded. “That’s what we call theZ’ao, yes.”
Struggling to wrap her head around the fact that Meyarin steel actually originated from draekons, Alex asked, “Andmyraes, too? The multi-coloured fire?”
“Myraesis powdered Myrox,” Aven told her, “crushed after theZ’aohas solidified but before it has been tempered.”
“I can’t believe this,” Alex whispered, feeling strangely disappointed, like she was discovering that Santa’s reindeer were actually buffalo, or that the North Pole was really situated in the middle of the Sahara Desert. She felt a little bit like the immortal race she held in such high esteem had been lying to her, even though they’d done nothing of the sort—it washerrace who had slapped the ‘Made in Meya’ label on Myrox.
“Twice a year we’re permitted to come and draw theZ’aofromTer’a Ora Vorrento replenish our stores,” Aven continued his explanation. “It’s a power source for Meya, helping us to continue thriving as a race, even providing us with the energy to create the protective wards we use sparingly around the city. Without theZ’ao, those wards would fail. We would also have no materials of quality high enough to create new weapons, raise new buildings or even light our paths and hearths. We rely on the Draekorans’ continued blessing—the Giving of Life ceremony—for allowing our people to flourish in this new world.”
That must be why he pulled me to the future.
The unexpected words caught Alex off-guard.Xira?She looked around but couldn’t see him anywhere.What are you talking about?
Haven’t you wondered what possessed him to pull me through to your time?Xiraxus asked.
Of course I have, she replied.But I’m no closer to knowing the answer.
There are no draekons in your future, Alex, Xiraxus said, causing the air to rush out of her in a quiet sound of disbelief.When the Golden One—the Aven Dalmarta of your time—pulled me through theabrassa,before I was caught in his snare I saw a dead sea of islands above the clouds. Your Draekora was abandoned long ago. I could sense not even a distant trace of my race in your world. That’s when I panicked and fell out of the sky, allowing him to get close enough to attempt my capture.
Alex watched as Xiraxus showed her a mental picture of the Draekora in the future—the images he had skipped over in blurred flashes during his replay for the Kyvalon weeks ago. His memories revealed a desolate wasteland of islands resting atop the clouds, nothing at all like the vibrant assortment surrounding them now.
But…That means… She focused her thoughts and asked,What about you, Xira? The future you?
I don’t know, Alex. I can’t tell you what happened to your Draekora, he said.But I’m guessing your Aven pulled me through because he needed a draekon to give him an advantage over the rest of the Meyarins.
How would having you in captivity help him?she asked.
It was then that a hush fell over the draekon assemblage, pulling Alex from her inner conversation to look at what was happening. She threw a stealthy glance up at Aven who was still leaning in close and peering over her shoulder, relieved to find that he was too busy watching the draekons to have noticed her mental check-out.
“What’s happening?” she whispered, barely moving her lips in the silence.
“Our people are coming,” Aven whispered back.
Sure enough, Alex’s Meyarin eyes picked them up the moment he’d said it, watching as they soared in on nearly invisibleValispaths, the seven council representatives landing one after the other in thetraesosamphitheatre. They all wore identical hooded robes glowing with the familiar shine of Myrox threaded into the fabric, the brightness standing out in stark contrast against the crystallised blackness surrounding them.
“Here comes the best part,” Aven whispered into Alex’s ear, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin.
“Denizens of Meya,” Zaronia called out in the Meyarin tongue, her voice echoing loudly across the space to Alex’s heightened hearing. “Tonight you join with all of Draekora to honour those who have been lost beyond the stars.”
As if reciting from a script they’d all memorised, in one voice the Meyarins said, “May the light shine always upon on the lost.”
