Light Dragons 01 - Love in the Time of Dragons

“The sooner we do this, the sooner we can have peace. Let us begin.”
    The Zilant words were unfamiliar on my tongue as I spoke them, awkward and jarring to the ear as I made an invocation to the dragon heart. The air grew thick and heavy over the shards as they started to vibrate, a hum coming from them that grew louder as I spoke. I watched them with some wariness, not sure what would happen when the heart re-formed, and wanting to be ready to wield it.
    As the last word fell heavily from my lips, the hum from the shards ceased, and all was silent for two beats of my heart. We held our respective breaths as the shards seemed to emit a light that twirled and spun around itself, taking the phylacteries with it. It grew brighter and brighter until it blinded me. I turned my head to avoid looking at it, but was compelled to turn back when a face began to form in it, the face of a dragon, one who was as brilliant as the light itself. The dragon’s eyes were filled with the knowledge of all times, as old as the earth itself, the past, present, and future all mingling together in their depths. I knew without a doubt in my mind that I was looking at the First Dragon, he who formed the septs and weyr, the creator, the father of every dragon who lived, and who would ever live.
    The First Dragon looked at me, searing a path straight down to my soul, his eyes closing slowly, but not before I saw a profound sadness in them that made me want to fling myself forward and weep until I had no more tears.
    The spinning mass of shards exploded in a nova of blue-white light that seemed to pierce us, passing through our bodies and minds and souls until it was the only thing that existed, and we were no more.
    Two hours later I stood at the inn and watched as the small band of five black dragons I had brought as guards saddled our horses. Kostya stood next to me, watching silently.
    Female squeals of delight came from the inn. I glanced over my shoulder. Drake had his arms around the three women who had waited so patiently for him at the bog, escorting them upstairs to a room where he would no doubt partake of their wares. I had already bid him farewell, as I had Allesander.
    “What would you like me to tell Baltic?” I asked Kostya, returning my gaze to the yard.
    “About the shard?” He glanced at my chest.
    I touched the spot about two inches below my breastbone where a small diamond mark now resided. Inside me, the shard that had once belonged to the First Dragon thrummed with a life of its own, the shard mourning with me for the future that I feared would come to pass. “No, although I don’t understand how you can be so sure that the shard’s rightful owner will not be distressed that I am now the phylactery for it. I would be happy to explain to whoever it is, if you give me the name—”
    “I told you the responsibility was mine,” he said, a flicker of something in his eyes causing me to wonder. “I will deal with the owner. You have no need to fear that she—”
    “She?” I asked as he bit off the word and looked suddenly furious. “By the rood! This shard belongs to Chuan Ren?”
    “Belonged,” he said, shooting me an annoyed glance before turning his glare onto the courtyard.
    “Why would she give you both shards?” I asked, shaking my head.
    His jaw worked for a few seconds; then he said, “She didn’t.”
    “The green dragons are renowned thieves,” I said, as a few facts slid into place. “Your brother is a green dragon. You had Drake steal the shards from Chuan Ren, didn’t you?”
    His shoulder twitched. “The Song Phylactery will be returned to her.”
    “But not the Choate Phylactery,” I pointed out, amused despite the situation. Chuan Ren would be livid when she found out. I would have to warn Baltic that she would likely wish to reclaim the shard.
    “That can’t be helped.” Kostya took a deep breath and turned to me, his face hard and unyielding. “I wish things were different, Ysolde, but you must realize that I cannot stand alongside Baltic any longer. You must see that.”
    Sadness gripped me at his words. “You of all people know why he is continuing the war. You are his oldest friend, his most trusted guard. If we could reason with him together, if we could make him see that Constantine is not really a threat—”
    “But he is,” Kostya interrupted. “In that I wholeheartedly agree with Baltic. The silver dragons are a threat to every black dragon. They must return to