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“Yes. The earth, the plants, the creatures were left untainted, but even so, such darkness resonates. Magic is as much a part of this land as the people are.”
“What could cause it?” Erika asked. There was a bite of another unsaid question to her tone that Harper could not fathom.
Aedon gave Erika a long, slow look. “I do not believe it to be Saradon or dark magic, if that is your meaning. He’s long dead, as you said. Nothing more than a tale to scare children at night. This is but a pale imitation of the blight he left upon the land, and no doubt natural in cause.”
He shrugged and spread his arms wide. “We have no idea what brings this sickness, but we will do our best to contain it.” He glanced at the tiny vial. Harper knew what he was thinking. That it could not be done with such a limited quantity of the cure.
“What can be done?” Ragnar asked, stroking his beard. The beads holding together his plaited braids clinked together gently.
“Can we not get more of the cure? Or even make more?” Harper asked, desperately wishing she had a solution.
Aedon shook his head sadly. “I’m afraid not. Perhaps the elves of Tir-na-Alathea have a way, but if they do, they have not shared it, and are not likely to. Everything comes at a price with them. If this has spread so fast already…” He trailed off.
She waited for him to continue.
“We can still help plenty,” he said quietly.
“Perhaps not enough, though. What else can be done?” Ragnar turned back to his cooking, because he knew the answer. Nothing. Erika did not reply at all.
When Aedon stilled, the others turned to him.
“Are you all right?” Brand raised an eyebrow. It was unusual for Aedon to be quiet or motionless. Both meant he was entirely out of sorts.
“We need to make more—or rather, make this spread further,” Aedon said.
“I beg your pardon?” Ragnar leaned forward.
Aedon shook the tiny vial at them. Erika hissed and dove to catch it, lest he drop it into the fire, but he snatched it back and clutched it to his chest. “I believe there’s a way we can make more.”
“I don’t follow,” said Erika. “I thought the whole point of taking this from the wood elves was because we couldn’t make any?”
“How? How is it done?” Brand asked.
Supper was forgotten as their attention fixed upon Aedon. “No, you’re correct. We couldn’t make it—but we can make more. There’s a difference, I promise. There are certain substances which can be used to make potions more potent, so you can use smaller doses or even dilute them. They’re rare, of course, and pricey, but they exist. There’s no reason it wouldn’t work.”
“Are you certain?” Brand pressed him.
The light faded from Ragnar’s eyes. “If you’re wrong and the potion is spoiled, they’ll all die.”
Aedon faltered, but only for a moment. “Course I’m sure. That’s what we need to do.”
“What can be used, and where do we find it?” Erika’s dagger and whetstone sat forgotten in her lap.
“Wait,” Ragnar said before he could reply. “Dragonhearts,” he said slowly. “Yes?” He looked to Aedon.
“Precisely.” Aedon’s grin widened. Harper stilled. That lump nestled in her clothing dug into her. A Dragonheart?
“Hmm?” said Erika. Brand rustled his wings and cocked his head, but stayed silent, dark eyes evaluating Aedon.
Aedon gestured to Ragnar. “You know the lore then?”
Ragnar inclined his head. His voice took on a grave cadence as he recited an obscure passage. “The Heart of Dragons is a substance most potent. A crystalline structure, hued and jagged as the dragon it comes from, contains such magics as are yet misunderstood. The Heart of Dragons may affect potions or incantations in many different ways, most notably lending the strength of the dragon to the magics performed.”
“Thank you, oh wise one,” Aedon said, a hint of fond mockery in his tone. “Ragnar is quite right. Dragonhearts are incredibly potent. Part blood and flesh, but part magic and spell, too. The very essence of a dragon is captured. They’re beautiful. They shine with iridescence and their own inner fire. Almost as if the dragon isn’t truly gone.” Aedon stared into the flames.
“Do you mean their literal heart?” interjected Brand, narrowing his eyes.
Aedon winced. “I do mean the literal heart. You won’t be able to obtain one from a living dragon, of course.” He swallowed. “But they can be harvested from a dead one.”
