Sara Reinke - The Chronicles of Tiralainn 3 - Book of Dragons

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Book of Dragons

Book Three in the Chronicles of Tiralainn—Volume One

Sara Reinke

PROLOGUE

OF DRAGONS AND FALCONS

"The dragons left us thousands of years ago,” Aigiarn Chinuajin whispered to her son. Four-year-old

Temuchin lay tucked against the chill of winter beneath blankets and furs, his dark eyes wide with wonder

as he gazed up at her. The waning fire cast soft glow and dancing shadows across the inside of theger

and the boy's face.

"Where did they go?” Temu asked. He knew, of course; Aigiarn had told him this story countless times,

but he always listened eagerly, as though each retelling was the first.

"To the west,” she said, leaning over and kissing his brow. “Beyond the borders of the Nuqut and into

the Khar mountains. They are sleeping there."

"In the lair,” Temu whispered, and she smiled.

"Yes,oyotona ,” she said, calling himfield mouse in their native Ulusian tongue.

"Ag'iamon called them there,” Temu said. “He called them away from Ulus ... away from us. He brought

them to the mountains so they could hide."

Aigiarn nodded. “Ag'iamon was the greatest dragon that ever lived,” she said. “He was the golden

dragon, lord of them all. He helped your ancestor, theyeke Kagan Borjigidal build an empire for us to

share ... Ulusians and dragons. In all of history, in the entire world, Temu, no other people have ever

been chosen by the dragons. There was a balance between us as intrinsic and sacred as theTegsh itself

... the universal harmony of sky and earth, spirit and form."

"We rode the dragons,” Temu said, his eyes bright and eager.

"Our ancestors did, yes."

"We could fly with them,” he said.

"Once, the skies over Ulus were filled with dragonriders,” Aigiarn said. “The sacred, chosen tribes of

our people, and the dragons that had bound themselves to them."

"What did the dragons look like, Mamma?"

"They were beautiful,” she said with a smile. “Red dragons and blue ones, green, black, white..."

"And gold,” Temu whispered. “Ag'iamon was gold."

"He was the most beautiful of them all,” she said. “They had crests on their heads and they could make

music with them, cries that sounded for miles and miles. Their front legs, their feet...” She wiggled her

fingertips at him. “Those were their wings. They could shrug them forward...” Aigiarn leaned over Temu,

hunching her shoulders and planting her hands on either side of his head, mimicking the posture of a

dragon, making him giggle. “...and walk like that. They were clumsy on the ground, but in the sky,

oyotona ... in the air ... they were magnificent. They could soar over the treetops, sail among the clouds

and the melody of their voices could reach every corner of the empire."

Temu's eyes grew troubled; a small cleft furrowed between his brows. “But they left us."

"Kagan Borjigidal had three wives,” Aigiarn said. “Qatun Hoelun gave him a son ... Dobun ... before she

died. His second gave him no heirs, but his third ... Qatun Mongoljin ... bore him another son, Duua.

Though Dobun was heir to the empire by birthright, Mongoljin wanted it for Duua. When Borjigidal grew

old and feeble, blind and sick, she saw her chance."

"She tricked him,” Temu said.

"She poisoned Ag'iamon,” Aigiarn said. “She knew Ag'iamon would leave the royal city of Kharhorin,

that he would retreat into the mountains to die. She sent Dobun to find him. She told Dobun his father

had begged it of him. Dobun loved his father very much, oyotona ... so much that he could never refuse

him, no matter what. Dobun left Kharhorin and followed Ag'iamon into the Khar Mountains. It took him

many long days to find the dragon lord, and by then, it was too late."

"Dobun's father, yeke Kagan Borjigidal was dead,” Temu said, the pained furrow between his brows

cleaving more deeply.

Aigiarn nodded. She worried sometimes that this story would upset Temu. He was too young to

understand ambition, greed, treachery or deceit, but he understood love ... and the pain of loss. His own

father, Aigiarn's husband Yesugei Bokeagha had been murdered when Temu had been only days old.

Though Temu had never known Yesugei, he longed to, and mourned for his father's absence with a

poignancy that broke Aigiarn's heart.

She stroked her hand against his face. “Yes, oyotona,” she said. “Mongoljin knew Borjigidal would not

pass without telling Dobun good bye. She sent Dobun away and dressed her own son, Duua in Dobun's

clothes. Borjigidal could not see, and when Mongoljin brought Duua before him, she told him it was

Dobun. Borjigidal could feel Dobun's familiar clothes, smelled him in the fur and fabric, and believed her.

He told his council, ‘Here is my son, beloved to me as no other. All that I have ... my lands, peoples,

fortresses, the whole of the Ulus empire ... shall be his ever more, and to his sons and blood kin.’”

"Ag'iamon knew when Borjigidal died,” Temu said. “He sensed it."

"Yes,” Aigiarn said. “Ag'iamon's instincts drove him from Kharhorin and to the solitude of the mountains

when the time had come for hisami suld to leave this earth for the great spirit tree. His heart led him

there, but his mind was bound to Borjigidal, almost as though they were one. He felt it when Borjigidal

left this mortal plane; he sensed Mongoljin's trick, her deceit. He lived long enough for Dobun to find him,

to tell Dobun what had come to pass."

"And then he took the dragons away,” Temu said.

"What Mongoljin did violated the balance of theTegsh ,” Aigiarn said. “She betrayed all of the dragons

when she poisoned Ag'iamon. She destroyed the trust and love between our races and to punish her,

Ag'iamon called the dragons to him. He summoned them from Ulus with a mighty cry from his crest that

shook the mountainsides and trembled like wind in the air. He drew them west ... they flew among the

peaks in exodus, leaving us behind."

She brushed Temu's hair back from his brow. “But Ag'iamon did not abandon us. Mongoljin and Duua

... and all of their heirs ... had to make amends for the breaking of the Tegsh. Ag'iamon promised Dobun

that they would lose everything they had gained through their deceit. They would lose their empire; it

would crumble around them, lost to them. The dragons would keep from them until atonement had been

made ... until one day, when Dobun's heir would come to call the dragons out again, and to rebuild the

fallen empire."

"TheNegh ,” Temu whispered.

"The one, oyotona ... lord of dragons and men, who shares the spirits of both of these races within him.

He will find the dragon lair in the mountains and he will command them. They will answer him; they will

come to him. Ag'iamon said he would bear the mark of the Seven Sacred Stars of the Dologhon."

She tapped her fingertip against Temu's breast. Beneath the overlapping, fur-lined front of his del, he

bore an unusual birthmark, a series of seven small marks arranged in a shape resembling the stellar

constellation, Dologhon. “Ag'iamon told Dobun, ‘By this mark, you shall know him. By this mark, he

shall pass. By this mark, he shall call to us, and by this mark, we will rise.’”

Temu looked up at her as her voice faded and her mouth unfolded in a gentle smile. “It is time for bed,

oyotona,” she said, drawing his blankets toward his chin. “Close your eyes now."

"Not yet, Mamma,” he said.

"Yes, yet,” she said, kissing his nose.

"Not yet ... you forgot thebaga'han," he told her and she laughed.

"Yes, I did."

"And the falcon."

"Yes, I did,” Aigiarn said, laughing again. “You do not need to hear this story. You know it better than

me. Bedtime now, Temu."

"No, Mamma,” Temu said. “Please, just the rest of it. Just the baga'han and the falcon."

Aigiarn raised her brow as she looked down at him. “Temu...” she began.

"Please, Mamma?"

Aigiarn sighed. Temu did not plead anymore; she had relented and he knew it. He smiled at her,

wriggling beneath his blankets.

"Ag'iamon sent the dragons to a secret lair hidden deep within the Khar mountains,” Aigiarn said. “The

only one who knew of the lair's location was a shaman of the baga'han, the little people of the west. He

used hishiimori , his magic powers to seal the lair, to mark its doors with Ag'iamon's promise so the

Negh would know it when he came to it. The shaman cut out his tongue and scarred his hands with fire

so that he could never tell or write of the lair's location. When the shaman died, the secret of the dragons’

lair died with him.

"When the Negh is born and the time comes for him to fulfill his destiny and travel deep into the

mountains to wake the dragons, Ag'iamon promised he would beseech Keiden, the sky spirit of wind to

send a falcon from the west to guide the Negh on his journey."

"A golden falcon,” Temu whispered.

"A golden falcon, an unfamiliar breed we will have never seen before,” Aigiarn said. “And when the

golden falcon arrives from the west, it will lead the Negh into the Khar and to the dragons’ lair.” She

smiled at him. “It will lead you there, Temu."

"Do you think I am the Negh, Mamma?” he asked softly.

"I know you are, oyotona,” she said, kissing his forehead.

"Do you think I will get to ride a dragon some day?” he asked, his voice quiet but hopeful.

"You will get to rule the dragons some day,” Aigiarn promised. “And men besides. But not tonight.

Tonight, you get to sleep."

"Mamma...” he began, and she pressed her fingertips against his mouth, staying his voice.

"Sleep, Temu,” she said. He nodded his head in reluctant concession. Aigiarn smiled and kissed him

again."Oroin mend.” Good night.

* * * *

Five years later, nine-year-old Temu awoke with a startled gasp in the middle of the night. He sat up

from his pallet of woolen blankets and furs, his eyes flown wide in the darkness.

"Mamma?” he called out breathlessly, disoriented, his mind still befuddled with sleep.

The shadow-draped circumference inside the ger was quiet and empty. He realized Aigiarn was not

there. He had fallen asleep curled on his side in front of her, but her bedding lay abandoned behind him,

her blankets turned back and pushed aside. This was habit for Aigiarn anymore; she seldom slept for

more than a few hours at a time, as though her mind remained so restless, her heart so troubled, she

could not allow herself anymore respite than this.

She was likely out among theburlagh herd, he realized, keeping company with the night sentries of the

Kabtaut . The burlagh, giant wooly rodents each about the girth and heft of an adult ram, made

vulnerable targets in the night for wolves ornarsana that sometimes ventured down from the Khar

foothills and into theiraysil settlement.

Temuchin and Aigiarn lived among the Kerait tribe, a subsect of people known as the Oirat. The Oirat

were part of a larger race, the Ulusians; the Oirat were the last descendants of a once-fierce alliance of

tribes that had rallied behind Dobun, the legendary, ancient prince of the last empire of Ulus, a man who

according to legends had lost his rightful throne to his half-brother, Duua.

Temuchin's own distant cousin named Targutai now held that throne, the imperial title ofKagan , and he

was said to be a descendant of Duua himself. His followers, called the Khahl waged war with the Oirat,

chasing them throughout the steppelands and mountain foothills of the Nuqut region of Ulus, fighting with

them, killing and enslaving them. Although the Ulus kingdom had dwindled from the mighty empire that

had existed in Duua's time, and now was little more than a small, impoverished realm tucked between the

Urlug mountains to the east and the Khar mountains to the west, ten years ago, the Khahl had found new

allies in their oppressive efforts against the Oirat. When the enormous southern empire of Torach had

established a united kingdom upon the Morthir continent, an alliance of the twelve largest, civilized

territories, the Khahl had agreed to join their ranks. The Torachans helped bolster the faltering economy

in the northern half of Ulus, the Taiga region, while also bringing massive squadrons of armored soldiers

into the realm to help suppress and defeat the Oirat.

The Oirat lived as nomads in Nuqut, the last of their numbers ... four tribes, the Kerait, Basur, Uru'ut

and Ganigas ... traveling throughout the steppes to avoid the Khahl and Torachans. They moved

frequently, bringing with them their herds, wagons, gers and belongings, scraping an existence off of a

land that sometimes seemed as bent upon seeing them beleaguered and defeated as their enemies.

Winters were harsh, turning pastures and meadows into frost-encrusted tundra and snow-covered

wastelands; summers were dry, drought-filled and fierce, driving them from the plains into the mountains

for shelter.

Temu drew his legs out from beneath his blankets, and crawled toward the fire. It had dwindled into a

smoldering pile of cinders and dim coals as he had slept, and he added kindling to it, prodding at the

embers and blowing softly against them until small flames stoked, licking at the wood. It wasNoquai , the

eleventh month, and winter was upon them in full, bitter measure. Temu slept bundled in fur-lined pants

with a heavily lineddel fastened overtop, its long, fur-trimmed hem falling nearly to his ankles to keep him

warm. Sleeping in thick hide gloves, layers of socks and hisgutal , thick-soled leather boots lined with

wool felt and burlagh fur was common enough practice during the frigid months of winter, but even still,

without the fire, chill seeped through Temu, and he shivered.

He leaned over the small blaze, closing his eyes and relishing its heat against his face. He closed his

fingers about a small hide pouch dangling from a slender cord of sinew about his neck. The little bag was

anongon , a talisman that was meant to keep his father's spirit near to him. He had no memory of

Yesugei Bokeagha, but the ongon brought him comfort nonetheless. It contained some of Yesugei's

ashes, a clipped lock of his hair, one of his teeth; more than totems to Temu, these served as tangible

connections within his young mind to someone beloved and emulated.

Yesugei had been murdered by Khahl assassins serving Targutai's father, the former Kagan, Bujiragh.

Aigiarn had managed to escape with Temuchin as the Khahl army had converged upon his father's tribe,

the Naiman, massacring them and abducting them for slave trading. Aigiarn had fled to the sanctuary of

the Keirat, and their leader, Toghrul Bagatur, Yesugei'sanda , or spiritual brother, as close as kin to

Temu's clan. They had lived among Toghrul and his people ever since.

The Khahl leader, Bujiragh had died soon after Yesugei's murder, under circumstances that remained

peculiar and unexplained.

"He drowned in his bath,” Yeb had told Temu once, when Temu had grown old enough to be curious

about such things. Yeb Oyugundei had been Yesugei's friend, ayeke, orgreat shaman to the Naiman

tribe. Yeb had helped Aigiarn escape the Khahl massacre fourteen years ago, and remained one of

Aigiarn's closest counsels and dearest friends. “Some say he fell asleep, drunk on wine. Others think it

was Dobun's own spirit that visited him in the water, and held him beneath ... vengeance for his

descendant's murder.

"Yesugei was blood kin to Dobun, and by that the rightful Kagan,” Yeb said. “Just as you are, Temu,

now that your father has passed. Bujiragh hated Yesugei for that alone ... as his son, Targutai will hate

you."

"But he does not even know me,” Temu had said, puzzled. “We have never even met. He is my kin, is

he not?"

"Yes,” Yeb had said. “Dobun and Duua, your ancestors, were brothers. The blood that flows through

Targutai's veins runs in yours as well, Temu."

"That is rather foolish, do you not think, Yeb?” Temu asked. “To hate someone you do not even know

just because of their clan."

Yeb had smiled at him. “Yes, Temu,” he said. “It does seem rather foolish."

Yeb will know what my dream meant,Temu thought, drawing his legs beneath him and standing. He

had always had peculiar dreams, for as long as he could remember, images had come to him in his sleep,

signs and symbols that had seldom made sense to him. Yeb said Yesugei spoke to Temu through the

dreams; the visions were messages from his father meant to help him in his life's journey, to lead him to

his destiny. Yesugei was Temu'sutha suld , his spirit companion, a sort of mystical guide enjoyed by few

outside of the shamans.

"It means you are special,” Yeb had told him. “You have very strong hiimori about you. It will serve you

well."

Temu had been dreaming of falcons, a strange and surrealistic vision he had suffered nearly every night

for weeks now. He dreamed that he stood upon the seashore, the banks of the Qoyina Bay to the north

of their encampment, before a large wooden boat that had been anchored in the shallow edge of the

dark, icy water. Temu had been on boats before, small fishing vessels out upon Maral Lake, but this one

was unlike any he had ever seen before, one suitable for sea voyages. It was long and graceful, stem and

stern tapering upward into points, with a solitary mast rising from its center.

Temu dreamed that he was to travel somewhere aboard that boat. The name of his destination had come

to him that night, like a soft voice whispering in his ear

Capua ... it will bring you to Capua

and he had gazed at the boat, mesmerized by its soft motions as it bobbed in the restless current.

He dreamed he had four birds with him, two pairs of pristine, ivorygyrfalcons perched in portable

wooden mews. The Kerait raised falcons for hunting and trading; the gyrfalcons were especially prized in

their neighboring realms of Lydia and Ebesun, and were often bartered for winter stores, food or coins.

Temu did not know why he had the raptors with him in the dream, only that it seemed important,

something he was supposed to do.

As he stood there pondering the matters of falcons and boat, a soft cry from overhead drew his gaze.

He dreamed of another falcon ... a golden one, its wings outstretched as it soared above him, flying out to

sea.

He flew with the falcon, feeling the wind against his face. The bird carried him far from shore; it seemed

to Temu as though they soared together over the ocean for many long days. The sun moved about them,

arcing through the sky, passing the moon as the horizon shifted from day into night. At last, Temu spied a

boat below, another ship, this one even more magnificent and enormous than the one at Qoyina Bay. It

had three masts, three sets of mighty, unfurled sails and a spear of wood, an imposing shaft thrusting forth

from the stem as though pointing the ship along its course.

The golden falcon had swooped toward the ship, and Temu plunged with it toward the broad wooden

deck. He had cried out in terror, frightened by the sheer size and proximity of the boat ... not to mention

the prospect of smashing headlong into it ... and then his voice had faded, his eyes widening with wonder.

"What kind of name is that?” he heard a man ask in a friendly voice.

Temu dreamed that he stood upon the deck of the ship, trembling in bewildered awe. Sunlight spilled

across the polished planks of the floor; shadows cast by the sails as they canted lightly on a current of air

danced softly about his feet. The falcon had come to land in front of him near a tangled series of thick

ropes and wooden pulleys descending from the rigging overhead. Here, two men stood by a railing

overlooking the sea, talking and laughing with one another.

"What do you mean?” asked one, the corner of his mouth lifted in an affable smile. He was very tall, with

hair the golden color of blanched witchgrass in late summer that fell down to below his waist in length.

His friend was also tall, lean and lanky in his build. He had dark skin, darker than Temu's own golden

hue, a richer shade of brown. He had dark hair like an Ulusian, but thicker, coarser. “I mean, I thought

your names had to mean something,” he said. He turned around to face Temu, leaning his hips back

against the railing and grinning broadly. “You know, ‘squirrel-hindquarters,’ ‘babbling brook’ or

something."

They were dressed in funny clothes, like the noblemen from Torach who would sometimes cross Nuqut

en route for Kharhorin in the north, with starched white stockings, pants that buttoned at their knees,

heavy coats that fit them snugly through the chests and flared about their legs and hips in broad panels of

embroidered fabric. Their shoes were polished and heeled, adorned with large gold buckles, and they

both wore rumpled folds of fabric swathed about their throats, tucked into long vests beneath their coats.

They spoke together in the popular tongue, the language of Torach that over the last millennia had

infiltrated and dominated nearly every culture known. They spoke oddly to Temu, however; their voices

inflected with an unusual, clipped dialect that lent a lilting, nearly melodic sound to the flow of their words.

"They were never meant to be names,” said the other, with the long hair. “They are clan symbols, not

designations. We used to refer to ourselves by patrolineal order. We did not have any trouble

differentiating among ourselves in such fashion. It was not until you arrived that we seemed to feel some

great need for surnames."

The wind fluttered the man's hair behind him, and Temu blinked, startled. His ear was pointed, like that

of a wolf, not rounded as Temu's, or even those of his friend. His ear was where a man's should be ... on

the side of his head ... but the tip tapered upward into a distinctive point, as though someone had pinched

it roughly and maimed it.

"Oh, yes, blame it on the menfolk and our incessant need for simple introduction rather than lengthy

pontification,” the dark-haired man laughed. “Come now, tell me. I am curious. What does it mean, the

nameFabhcun ?"

The man with the long blond hair, the pointed ears turned toward Temu in the dream, and Temu froze in

fright, drawing back as the man's gaze seemed to find his own. The man blinked at him, startled.

"Rhyden?” his friend said, looking somewhat puzzled.

The man continued to stare at Temu for a long moment, but his face was not unkind. He looked young

to Taemir, and somewhat weary. His eyes were round, his nose long and tapered, his pallor fair, all like

the visitors from Torach Temu had gleaned a peek at in passing over the years. He seemed to gaze

straight through Temu to the floor, his expression perplexed, and then he smiled, glancing over his

shoulder.

"Falcon,” he said, startling the breath from Temu. “My name,Fabhcun meansfalcon in Gaeilgen."

"What are you looking at?” the other man asked, stepping forward. “I just had these decks holystoned

and swabbed ... there had best not be a scuff on my planks."

The man with the unusual ears and the name offalcon turned one last time, glancing toward Temu,

apparently without seeing him this time. “Nothing,” he said. “It is nothing, Aedhir. A peculiar shadow

drew my gaze, that is all."

* * * *

"What do you think it means, Yeb?” Temu asked. He had found the shaman exactly where he had

expected to ... alone in a small cave, amanduaga weathered into the cragged rocks of the granite

foothills rippling the plains. Narsana had likely once used the cave for a den, but Yeb had adopted it

upon their arrival, using it as a place of solitude and sanctuary. He had anointed the stones with a wide

variety of rituals, incenses and ongons, saying it was a sacred place, that the spirits could speak to him

easily within its confines. Yeb spent a great deal of time here, often in counsel with other shamans,

tending small fires in the center of the room and performing ceremonies.

Temu had sat across from Yeb by the fire, sipping from a cup of warmedqumis, or fermented milk the

shaman had offered him. He had related the dream while Yeb listened quietly. Like many Oirat men, Yeb

kept his pate shaved nearly to the cap of his skull, his black hair draping down toward his shoulders from

here, twisted into a plait that ran down to the small of his back. The exposed measure of his forehead and

crown gave his face a pleasing, round appearance, accentuating the contrast of his sternly set brows and

gentle eyes.

"What doyou think it means, Temu?” Yeb replied. He cradled a small ongon against his palm, a leather

pouch that harbored Ogotai, his utha spirit guide. Yeb had explained to Temu that Ogotai was an

ancestral spirit from his clan, one of Yeb's forefathers from ages past that spoke to him sometimes, and

offered him prophecies of the future, visions of the spirit worlds.

"I ... I do not know,” Temu replied, his brows drawing slightly as he stared down at his qumis. “I keep

dreaming of falcons. Is it a message from my father, do you think? He is trying to tell me it is time, that the

falcon is coming to lead me to the dragons’ lair?"

"Ogotai has shown me the falcons as well,” Yeb said. “Four white gyrs, as you saw, and a golden in

flight. I did not see the ships you described, but some visions are not intended for more than one to see."

"I saw a man, too, Yeb,” Temu said, troubled. He pinched his own ongon, his father's talisman about his

neck and tugged at it absently. “Not just a falcon and boats ... a man, as well. He had long hair and

strange ears ... pinched at the tops, pointed. I saw his face clearly ... just for a moment. He looked at me,

Yeb, as though he saw me and then he turned away, but I remember his face. His hair and skin were

pale, his eyes were round, his nose long ... like the Torachans. He said his name meantfalcon, in another

language ...Gailjin , I think. I do not understand what it means, or why I would dream of such things."

"What do you think these visions mean?” Yeb asked again, his voice quiet enough to draw Temu's gaze

from his cup. Yeb would often play this gentle game with Temu; Temu would ask him of things, and Yeb

would reply with questions of his own, inquiries meant to make Temu mull matters over and decide for

himself.

Temu looked at him, frowning slightly. “I think they mean we should find my mother and Toghrul among

the herd,” he said. “If Ogotai has shown them to you, too, it must be something important. It must mean it

is time. They will need to know."

"Alright, then,” Yeb said, nodding his head once.

"We should tell Toghrul to gather two mating pairs of white gyrfalcons,” Temu said. “And some of the

soldiers from his Kelet. We should ready ourselves for a trip."

"Where would you see us go, Temu?” Yeb asked.

Temu lowered his face, looking down at the ongon against his hand. He curled his fingers about it, feeling

the small, but distinctive lump of his father's tooth within the pouch press through the felt-lined hide of his

glove. “To the Qoyina Bay,” he said. “The Uru'ut aysil is still there. They fish in the harbor ... they might

have small sailing boats like the first one I saw in my dream."

"Alright, then,” Yeb said, nodding again.

"We will sail west for Capua,” Temu said, glancing up at the shaman. “Something will happen there ...

something will be waiting for us. A golden falcon, this man ... I do not know, but it will be there."

"Alright,” Yeb said, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly in a smile.

"We should leave right away, as soon as we can. I do not know how much time we have, but it cannot

be much."

"As you wish,” Yeb said, lowering his head in respectful deference.

"Is ... is that what you would do, Yeb?” Temu asked him, and the shaman raised his eyes, meeting his

gaze.

Sara Reinke - The Chronicles of Tiralainn 3 - Book of Dragons

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