Chapter 3: An Unwelcome Guest at the Feast of the Return
SOLIS
There weren’t always dragons in the valley, but their arrival has been on my mind since I settled outside this hearth. I’ve long expected this day, but I haven’t looked forward to it.
I spend most days alone. It is rare that anyone visits me. Rarer still that I hear my name spoken aloud. What is the purpose of a name if not to hear someone call you? If not to be asked for help? If not to be thanked for some service? If not to hear your name on a lover’s lips? Hearing my own name may be what I miss most about my lonely existence, carrying out this unenviable duty as so many have before me.
People aren’t meant to live in solitude. Sometimes I hug myself and whisper, “Solis, you are still here.”
Today is the Return. I stand watching the moon, or more properly, both moons, which overlap for only these few days every 10 moons. Like lovers, they are already moving imperceptibly apart. Occasionally, I allow myself a few moments of relief, although the sense of foreboding never entirely leaves me. I hear the drumming of the Others entering Hearth and feel the rise of that old childish wonder and expectation, even though I left the life at Hearth many years ago and can no longer remember my father’s face.
##
Everyone learns the story of the two moons as children. She, the Hearth moon, glows like a red heart and is always with us. We orient ourselves by her and know all her phases as she waxes and wanes but never entirely disappears.
He, the pale green Wandering moon, roams among the stars and planets. He gathers knowledge from distant lands and carries treasures back to share. Hearth remains vital in large part because the Wandering moon always returns. After 10 moons. lovers are reunited and they give birth to every living thing, even the things we fear, like dragons. It is said that if the Wandering moon should fail to return, our culture will be lost, but if the Hearth moon should vanish, we will die.
I think about this on the dark nights, wondering which calamity might befall us first. This time of year, I worry that the Wandering moon might not return. For the rest of the year, I worry that the Hearth moon might not rise.
##
Tonight requires action. We don’t have long. I must share this unwelcome message tonight while the Others are here.
I dress carefully, in my beaded linothorax and ceremonial linen robes, heavily embroidered with images of the battles I’ve fought, symbols of my educational achievements, and the names of every dragon I’ve slain. Only another warrior can read and understand the stories woven into these robes. Their weight on my shoulders makes me long for the comradery of battle while reminding me of all who are lost. I need to sit for a moment to steady myself.
My scarred hands pull my hair into braids and pin them to my head. In honor of the Return, I’d like to adorn them with flowers, but that might undercut the seriousness of my message. Then I bank my fire and go out to meet the Hearth Minders and the Others with a heavy heart.
##
I admire the pesyps arbor constructed over the long table, covered with branches, swags of greenery, and golden flowers. The glowing globes of the pesyps pods are suspended at intervals like stars illuminating the table.
Up and down the long tables, fathers sit with children in their laps, the remnants of the sumptuous meal on their plates. A giant bonfire burns fierce and aromatic at the central hearth near the clearing at the end. The flames illuminate the faces of people laughing and eating. Kongamatos roost in the trees surrounding the table, their tails twitching in anticipation of choice pickings once the revelers have gone.
Astiah stands to one side with a hearth daughter tugging at her arm. Next to her is Granye and the man I recognize as the father of her son. He has an open, friendly face, but he is wounded.
I know this depth of face from battle, making the best of the damage he’s endured. In so many ways, the life of Others is unknowable to a Hearth Minder. If I had more time, I would take him in my arms and tell him I know how he suffers.
The Hearth Keeper sits at the head of the table surrounded by her hearth companions and many children. She is a good woman, steady, kind, and patient. I approach her and bow respectfully. There’s a murmur from those who have noticed my arrival. They are not used to seeing me clean and dressed in my robes.
She says, “Solis, this is a great honor. Will you take tea with us?”
I nod. She motions to her hearth daughter, who leaps to her feet and goes to the fire to retrieve the tea. I bow and accept the tea with both hands.
“Respectfully, I wish to be heard, Hearth Keeper.”
A look of irritation crosses her face. “You were invited to the convocation, Solis. Is it necessary that you speak now?” Our society demands that all be given a full hearing. However, I haven’t used the proper channels and tonight is for celebration, not business.
“It is.”
She levels her gaze at me, still irritated, but perhaps it is easier to let me speak now than insist on protocol. “Very well.”
Standing, she waits for silence to fall over the crowd. Those who hadn’t noticed my arrival now turn and regard me with a mixture of curiosity and animosity.
“Hearth Minders, Solis wishes to be heard. Children who wish to stay are welcome. The rest may go to the clearing and try not to cause trouble.” A few older boys follow to supervise the younger children.
A herd of children leap from the table and run to the back of the clearing, screaming with delight as their mothers shout admonitions. Fathers lean back in their chairs, sipping the honeyed farr brewed especially for tonight. In some ways, I want them all to stay. Everyone at Hearth needs to understand what I am about to say.
Sharna rises from her seat. “Hearth Minder Sharna wishes to be heard.” The Hearth Keeper acknowledges her, and she proceeds.
“Hearth Minders, Solis was invited to come to convocation, and she declined. Now, on this night of feast, she interrupts our celebration with more of her wild tales.”
I see Astiah lean over to Granye, who sighs and laughs quietly.
I enter the great space of Sharna’s mind. It is polite to be invited, but I don’t have time for niceties tonight. I send a message without speaking, ‘Your silence is required.’ Her mind is open to all, her communication abilities are rare. For this reason, I have chosen her as part of this expedition.
She looks at me, confused and possibly frightened. I know the secret she thinks is well hidden. “I withdraw my objections,” she says, leaving everyone surprised as she sits.
I take a deep breath. “Hearth Minders and Others, many of you may not know me. I am Solis, the Crore, and Watcher of this hearth. I have slain many dragons and restored the old ways to this land. I have been in many battles and I know many dragons, and most especially, the ones who do great harm. Living at the edge of this hearth for years now, it is my duty to be alert for dragons. With this Wandering moon’s arrival, I felt the shadow of a new dragon in the valley. It is a dragon who has desolated many hearths in the North.”
The faces around the hearth begin to look serious in the firelight. People glance at each other, trying to understand what I am suggesting. This time of year is so full of joy, parents returned to children. The opening of gifts. The coupling. And here I stand, stealing it all from them, the weight of my responsibility nearly choking my words back.
A few of the men stand, leaving their farr half drunk on the table. Astiah whispers to Granye, and Granye signals for her to be quiet. Sharna shifts restlessly in her seat.
##
When I was a young woman, I fought this dragon nearly to my death. Among dragon slayers, it is known as Svaart. Born a soot-dark runt who grew to an unnaturally large size, Svaart grew murderous nearly as soon as it could fly.
One night I found myself alone without weapons in a dark valley with Svaart, whom I wounded badly but did not kill. We contended all night, until daybreak when Svaart tried to fly away with his badly injured wing.
I held fast and shouted, “I will not let you go!”
As the sun rose, Svaart bellowed and blew out a breath of waning fire. I yelled again, “I have contended with you all night. Either you will die, or you will return to the old ways.”
I have never known if dragons understand language, but Svaart cocked its head at me. In that moment, the dragon spoke into my mind, ‘Go in peace.’
As I loosened my grip, the dragon climbed and stumbled up the cliff, half-dragging its maimed wing across the rough stone, and vanished. I believed that Svaart returned to the way of honor after that. With its reappearance in our valley, I am shaken to the core.
I’m plagued by doubt even now. It’s impossible to know if the dragon spoke to me or not.
##
In the unsettled quiet, I continue, “We cannot fight this dragon ourselves. I am too old, and none of you have been trained to fight such a clever dragon.” A few of the younger Others look at each other, gauging each other’s bravery.
Concern crosses Sharna’s face. Even without my saying more, she already understands the extent of the danger. I whisper into her mind, ‘You are chosen.’ She looks away, though she can’t reject the thought after it enters her mind.
“We must send a deputation to the Drakdare at once to beg for their help.”
Two of the men raise their hands, and one of their sons, shorter than my bow, joins them.
I shake my head. I have so little time to explain. “Thank you all but, I cannot send men. They won’t be admitted into the caves.” Everyone looks surprised and disappointed.
“It is a deadly mission, and it falls to me to appoint the five I believe best able to accomplish this very difficult task.” Conversation erupts.
The Hearth Keeper stands and holds out her hand to silence the rumbling crowd. “Solis, it is our tradition to have everyone participate in a decision of this… magnitude.”
I reply, “With all respect to you, Hearth Keeper, and to this Hearth, no one but I understand what will be required of these Hearth Minders whom I must select. You can’t understand the skills they will need, nor the danger they will face.”
Again, the crowd murmurs. Astiah and Granye seem to be having a quiet disagreement. Granye shakes her head adamantly. I feel a pang of regret, but no doubt. I have already seen the five who comprise the group. Sharna is among them. She knows this. Shaking her head, Sharna begins to cry.
“Silence,” the Hearth Keeper says, “Solis will be heard.”
Beyond the far end of the table, I see the children playing in the tall wet grass, laughing and mindless of us. I long to join them, despite my oath to protect this hearth.
“Proceed, Solis. Who will be in this proposed party?”
“The five are… Sharna…” She lets out a loud cry. One of her hearth companions reaches over to pet her hand.
“Taiye. Mixa,…”
I see Astiah rise from her seat; Taiye is her hearth companion. I have felt Astiah’s longing every day. I have my doubts about her suitability, but I am now convinced she can overcome her shortcomings. “Astiah,…”
She leaps into the air and yelps, “Yes!” The crowd laughs quietly, but uncomfortably.
“And they shall be led by… Granye.”
Granye rises immediately and says, “Hearth Minder Granye wishes to be heard.”
The Hearth Keeper acknowledges her.
“I must decline. I cannot leave my hearth at this time…”
I always hear them before I see them, the peculiar hiss of their internal fire and the low grating whirr of the scales on their wings cutting through the air. The sound of this dragon, Svaart, I know as well as the sound of my own breath.
I shout, “Get down!” Some of the men push children beneath the table. Hearth Minders dive into nearby bushes. Kongamatos take to the air screeching.
Svaart flies low over the feast table and lets out a deafening roar. It turns and rises up into the night until its body disappears against the black sky. The stench of the dragon’s skin fills the air. Some Hearth Minders and Others race towards the children in the field as the dragon turns and swoops again, this time spewing a fiery breath across the table.
The dragon flies low over the children. I watch in horror, unarmed, remembering the long black night that I contended with this old enemy. In the darkness, I can’t see what is happening. I run towards the children, too, but Svaart rises, its great beating wing knocking me backward. There may be a boy clinging to the dragon’s leg, but the dragon vanishes into the dark of the night before I can tell anything more.
One of the older children screams, “Hannasorsha!!!”
People run everywhere, shouting each other’s names. Flames lick at the arbor as the table smolders and smokes.
I stand apart in the darkness, Solis, the Crore and Watcher, the dragon slayer who failed to slay her oldest enemy. This night will haunt me all my days.
My frailty sickens me.