Was it?
“You’ve been tended by a beacon for how many days? And Timur and Tenma before that. And Waaseyaa’s influence is probably in the mix.” Ginkgo gave him a little shake. “This is the change every dragon awaits … works toward … right? This is good.”
It didn’t feel good.
But Sinder couldn’t deny that yes, that’s what must be happening. And he had no idea if he was supposed to do this in truest form or speaking form. Stories spoke of both. Did either have an advantage.
“I … I want Michaelson.”
Ginkgo nodded, turned to Kyrie, and lifted his chin toward the village. “Fetch Timur quick.”
“I will hurry.”
Sinder barely registered his absence. Drawing himself up, he tried to remember his lore. Information was his thing. He should know this stuff, probably did. But being in the middle of his attainment left him incoherent.
Slowly releasing his hold, Ginkgo took Sinder’s hand and tugged. Moving forward was better than staying still. Sinder locked his fingers with the half-fox’s and was glad he wasn’t alone.
The lake. He hadn’t realized they were close to it. Stars glittered on a surface that was glassy-smooth. Only then did Sinder realize how still the night had grown. Not a single breath of wind. Had they all followed Kyrie when he left?
“I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”
Ginkgo nodded. “When I came into my inheritance, I needed Dad’s help. But it’s probably different for crossers. I ended up needing both him and Tsumiko. They struck the right balance between my human part and my fox part. But Dad’s the one I wanted most. Say, should we have sent for Lapis?”
Sinder shook his head. He wanted Timur. Trusted him.
Rolling his shoulders, Sinder asked, “What was this inheritance?”
“My tail. I wasn’t born with one.” He gave it a lighthearted swish.
“What happened?”
“My bones were on fire, and I could hardly sit still. I was pretty damned scared, and I couldn’t figure out how to display for Dad. But he guided me.”
Sinder asked, “How?”
“You probably don’t want to know.” Ginkgo’s ears angled toward the tree line. “They’re coming.”
Timur charged out of the shadows, Kyrie riding on his back. Winded and worried, he rushed forward, stopped short, then bowed low. “Thank you for inviting me to attend your Ascension.”
Sinder was speechless.
“Where’s Fend?” Ginkgo asked.
“Unable to attend,” Timur said shortly. “Probably for the best. I apologize for any discomfort you’ve had to endure because of my delay. I’m here, Sinder. Right here.”
Admitting it to a Spomenka was hard. “I don’t know what to do.”
“Ah, Zolottse. Nothing to it, really.” Timur’s confidence had a calming effect. “This dawn will see you soaring.”
While Timur arranged things, Sinder balled and relaxed his fists over and over. The man’s shoulder bag clinked with an abundance of flasks. Had he brought medicine? Bandages? Would breaching wings leave him bloodied? Why wasn’t this in the lore? Then again, would anyone seek the sky if they knew the cost?
A smaller hand slipped into his. Kyrie. “Does it hurt?”
“Not exactly. It’s not comfortable.” Sinder was beginning to feel betrayed by his own body. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”
Kyrie pressed closer. “We are here.”
“We are four,” said Timur, who was working on starting a fire. “That’s auspicious.”
“Are there other favorable conditions?” asked Kyrie.
“Plenty.” Flashing a smile at the boy, Timur asked, “Don’t suppose you could summon an east wind for him?”
“I will ask.”
Sinder eyed him skeptically. But a breeze rose from the direction of the lightening horizon, cooling his flushed face. Carrying with it a whisper of Novi’s song.
“Does he need to shift forms?” asked Ginkgo.
“Wings will manifest in either form, but in recent centuries, it’s become popular to remain in speaking form.” Timur’s voice was pitched to soothe. “It makes it easier to maintain a partial transformation later.”
“Wings in speaking form?” checked Kyrie.
“Like a wolf and his tail,” said Ginkgo. “Or a stag and his antlers.”
“That’s the idea. Sinder, may I have access to your blaze?” Timur seemed to tower over him.
No sense holding back now. He shrugged out of his tunic, presenting his bared shoulder.
Pushing aside Sinder’s hair with one finger, Timur asked, “Can we tie this out of the way?”
“Let me,” said Ginkgo. “I’m a pro at braids. In high demand by all the kids.”
Sinder frowned. His injuries had healed enough, he could have managed on his own. But Ginkgo was already smoothing and sectioning. Was everything spinning out of his control?
“Calm down, Damsel,” ordered Ginkgo.
“How can I?” He peered over his shoulder into pale eyes. “I still don’t know what to do.”
Timur was fiddling fireside, and the scent of warming oil filled the air. But he returned to Sinder, hands framing his face. “Truly, there is nothing to fear. All you had to do has been done. Your strength is gathered, and your wings await.”
Sinder’s agitation doubled. “How am I supposed to …?”
He didn’t even have words for the hurdle before him.
“Take from me.” Timur flashed that ridiculously winsome smile of his. “My turn to tend you, Zolottse.”
“That’s all?”
“Simple as that.” And without hesitation, the dragon slayer offered his soul as a refuge, so that one dragon could gain the sky.
A starry soul, more potent than pollen. Heady and homey and his for the taking.
Sinder lost track of everything but Timur, who stole the ache from his bones and flooded him with certainty. All would be well. Nothing to it, really.
Kyrie’s trill called him back. He fluted in harmony with Novi’s swelling song.
Ginkgo’s voice was there, too. Right beside him. “Rise from here, Damsel,” he urged, stroking firmly at his back.
“Whenever you’re ready,” said Timur, who held him snug and steady, one large hand covering his blaze.
Then the sun crested, and Kyrie gasped. Sinder writhed.
“That’s the stuff,” praised Ginkgo. “Spread your wings for us, Sinder.”
“Please?” Kyrie added in an awed whisper.
He trembled with the effort, but he managed.
Timur spoke the traditional rites in Old Amaranthine first, then boomed a joyous, “Well done!”
FIFTY-SEVEN
Woo the Wind
Mikoto sought out Merl.
When had they last spent any time together? Too long. True, Merl was essentially running the camp this summer. And everyone was extra busy with the upcoming induction ceremony. But Mikoto was suddenly certain that he needed his brother. His best friend.
“Hear me out?” he begged.