“I see,” Rokshan said. “But—”
“What?”
“Nothing. It’s nothing.”
They flew in silence the rest of the way through the foothills, where Lamprophyre banked low to follow the river that cut through the mountains. Green gave way to brown and then gray as they climbed to the lower slopes of the mountains, covered this early in the year with pale green scruff that felt so peculiar underfoot.
A splash of red and a speck of gold far below, tucked into the curve of the river, showed where Nephrite guarded his nest. He looked up as they passed, but gave no wave of recognition. The eggs of this year’s clutch were within a twelveday of hatching, and their fathers were even more diligent than usual in keeping contrary thoughts from damaging their young. In a few years, Lamprophyre would bear an egg, and her mate, whoever that would be, would take Nephrite’s place. The idea bothered her. She had no interest in any of the flight as a potential mate and no feeling that that would ever change.
She rose higher along the slopes. In the distance, she saw the cliffs and caves that were the flight’s home. Brightly colored draconic shapes clung to the outcroppings, sunning themselves. The air was cool and fresh and invigorated Lamprophyre. She drew in a great lungful and slowed her speed, swooping around the long way to give everyone a glimpse of Rokshan perched on her shoulders.
When she alit on the shelf outside the caves, she pretended not to notice all the attention, or hear the gasps as one by one the nearest dragons saw the human. She leisurely crouched to allow Rokshan to dismount, then gave her a hand when she staggered.
“By the Stones, Lamprophyre, what is that?” Scoria exclaimed. The elderly dragon clambered arthritically down from her perch and put her nose right up next to Rokshan. “You brought a human here?”
“I did,” Lamprophyre said. “And she’s going to stop the humans from invading.”
Grass-green scales slithered up and over the ledge. “You captured a human,” Coquina said. Her tone of voice, dismissive as always, made Lamprophyre want to push her back over the edge.
Higher up the slope, bronze Leucite rose into the air with a few lazy flaps, then descended to the ledge and disappeared into the biggest cave. The royal cave. He was going to fetch Hyaloclast. Lamprophyre’s heart beat faster. It was what she wanted, what she’d hoped for, but now that the moment was here, she couldn’t quite believe it was happening.
Coquina cleaned her teeth with her sharp sixth claw. “There must be something wrong with it,” she said lazily, but Lamprophyre knew her clutchmate well enough to recognize when Coquina was jealous.
Rokshan had backed away from Scoria’s nose, which was emitting gentle bursts of smoke—well, Scoria was old and not always in control of her second stomach’s fiery emissions. The human pressed against Lamprophyre’s haunch, but didn’t otherwise seem nervous. Lamprophyre thought about patting Rokshan’s shoulder in reassurance, but wasn’t sure that was a gesture that translated across species.
Heavy footsteps signaled Hyaloclast’s arrival. The great dragon queen emerged and unfurled her wings, and Rokshan pressed even harder against Lamprophyre’s leg. Lamprophyre couldn’t blame her for being nervous now. Hyaloclast was a third again the size of Lamprophyre, her scales pure black and gleaming like obsidian, her eyes and the fine membranes of her wings the red of a blood ruby. She stood at her full height and looked down on Lamprophyre and Rokshan both.
“So,” she said, her voice rumbling like a distant avalanche, “you have brought me a human, Lamprophyre.”
“Yes,” Lamprophyre said, sitting up tall even as she was conscious of Rokshan’s body against hers. “She is the leader of the humans.”
“And what will I do with a human leader?”
Lamprophyre met her bloody gaze fearlessly. “The humans have encroached on our lands with no explanation,” she said, “and I have brought this female here for you to treat with. You can send our demands and make the humans leave.”
Hyaloclast cast her gaze on Rokshan. “Interesting,” she said. “I don’t know where to begin. This was your plan?”
The way she said it, as dismissively as Coquina ever dreamed, made Lamprophyre’s stomachs churn. “Yes, but—”
“How did you know this human was their leader?”
“I…it was obvious. The way she moved, the way she spoke to the others—”
“And it didn’t occur to you that the humans might have more than one leader? That they don’t all have the same goals?”
“Well…” This was all wrong. “Even if there are many—”
“You don’t even know,” Hyaloclast said, “that this is a male.”
Hot blood rushed through Lamprophyre, tinting her scales violet with embarrassment. She ignored Coquina’s laughter and said, “It doesn’t matter if he’s male or female. Isn’t it better that we try to find a permanent solution than to keep scaring them away? Maybe there are lots of human groups, but this is a start!”
Hyaloclast transferred her attention back to Rokshan. “What’s your name?”
“Rokshan. Son of Ekanath.” Rokshan stepped away from Lamprophyre. “He is the king of Gonjiri.”
A jet of smoke escaped Hyaloclast’s left nostril. “So Lamprophyre got lucky.”
“I guess he did,” Rokshan said.
“I’m female!” Lamprophyre exclaimed. Laughter rippled through the watching crowd, which had grown to include practically every member of the flight. Lamprophyre was sure she was nearly purple with humiliation.
“It seems you have a mutual inability to identify each other’s sex,” Hyaloclast said, her eye ridges rising to echo her sarcastic tone. “Now that we’ve gotten that all straight, where does that leave us? Oh, yes. With a royal hostage.”
Lamprophyre’s head whipped around and she stared at the dragon queen. “Hostage?” she said. “But that’s—he isn’t a hostage!”
“I could be, if the queen insists,” Rokshan said. “I hope your honor won’t allow you to take advantage of Lamprophyre’s mistake.”
“Dragons do not deal dishonorably, but they take advantage when it’s given to them,” Hyaloclast said. “What do you offer, your highness?”
“Information,” Rokshan said. “Didn’t you wonder why there were humans in the northern wilds?”
“What humans do is of little interest to us,” Hyaloclast said. “But I admit it’s a curiosity.”
“It was a prophecy,” Rokshan said. “Jiwanyil—the Immanence made human flesh—told our ecclesiasts that human destiny lies in the northern wilds. We did not know dragons lived here. All our legends say the dragons were killed in a great catastrophe, hundreds of years ago. So we followed the prophecy. Human settlers, and the bandits who prey on them. My company was pursuing bandits when Lamprophyre captured me.”
“I see.” Hyaloclast settled back on her haunches. “And if you’d known there were dragons here?”
Rokshan gazed at her without a trace of fear. “We still would have come,” he said. “We don’t ignore prophecy. We’ve learned to our sorrow what happens when we do.”
“I see,” Hyaloclast repeated. “Lamprophyre. In your cunning plan, what did you anticipate I would do?”
Lamprophyre ducked her head. “We can’t solve our problems if we don’t know what’s causing them. I hoped you could talk to the humans and convince them not to intrude on our lands.”
“Bold words from someone who has made a terrible mistake. Didn’t you think, if you did manage to capture someone of rank, that other humans might see that as an act of war? It’s irrelevant that humans can’t hurt us—think how many innocents might lose their lives if we’re forced to defend Mother Stone.”
Lamprophyre ducked her head lower. “I didn’t think of that.”
Hyaloclast let out a deep breath. “Take the prince back where you found him. Then return here, and we will discuss the consequences of your mistake. And you, young prince—” Hyaloclast leaned over so her face was level with Rokshan’s. “Tell your r
oyal father if humans persist in entering our territory, we will defend it. And we will not be so gentle as we have in the past.” She turned and stumped back into the cavern.
The laughter had stopped. Even Coquina was silent. Lamprophyre crouched low and wordlessly leaned over so Rokshan could mount. Then, with a tremendous push from her hind legs, she launched herself into the sky.
Chapter Three
She flew straight up for a time, aiming for a point past the morning overcast, welcoming the chilly air caressing her hot flanks and cheeks. She’d forgotten she had a passenger until Rokshan said, “I’m cold.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She backwinged, hovered for a moment, then spiraled down gently until the air wasn’t knife-edged with cold. Spreading her wings, she coasted southward, staying well above where the flight might reasonably be. She couldn’t bear to look any of them in the eye.
“I’m sorry,” Rokshan said.
She tried to look at him and could only see the curve of her shoulder. “You’re sorry? You’re not the fool who nearly started a war!”
“I mean they shouldn’t have laughed at you. It wasn’t a bad plan.” Rokshan laughed. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…that really was remarkable, snatching me off my horse and all that.”
“Don’t patronize me.”
“Sorry.”
They flew on for several dragonlengths before Rokshan said, “What will Hyaloclast do to you?”
“Lecture me,” Lamprophyre said. “Give me penance duty. I’ll probably fly a lot of long patrols to teach me humility.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
“It’s not.” The worst part would be the mockery, the sidelong glances and the whispered comments. It would be years before the flight let her forget about her stupid mistake.
She saw Nephrite again in the distance, that same blotch of red, very still against the banks of the river. She thought about veering to the side to avoid him, but that was pointless, since it wasn’t as if he could know what she’d done. And he wouldn’t come after her, abandoning his egg, for any reason. So much for Lamprophyre laying an egg any time in the next twelveyear. As if anyone would want to mate with her now. Small comfort that she’d already mentally rejected all of the males in the flight.
She swept past Nephrite, glancing down at him and the nest that held his and Fluorspar’s egg. He was so still she could almost imagine—
With a gasp, she furled her wings and dropped like a stone. Rokshan let out a shout of surprise, and his hands gripped her ruff more tightly, but all her attention was on Nephrite. She landed a dragonlength away and ran toward him, not caring that she was far too close to the unborn dragonet. Rokshan clung to her against her uneven lope.
She skidded to a halt and grabbed Nephrite’s chin, tilting his head toward her. The dragon’s nictitating membranes were closed over his silver eyes, making them cloudy, and although he was now staring directly at the golden spot that was the sun behind the haze, his eyelids didn’t blink shut. “Stones,” Lamprophyre breathed, and twisted to propel Rokshan off her shoulders. He stumbled, caught his balance, and put a hand on Lamprophyre’s arm.
“Is she dead?” he asked.
“He,” Lamprophyre said, but she wasn’t really paying attention to the human. No coherent thoughts came from Nephrite, even as close as she was to the dragon. She pressed her ear against Nephrite’s chest and covered her other ear with her hand, blocking out distractions. After what felt like forever, she heard the distant thrum of his heartbeat, far too slow and far too quiet, but at least it was there. “He’s alive.”
She sat up and looked around, wishing madly for inspiration to strike. Nephrite moaned, drawing her attention back to him. “What happened?” she demanded.
Nephrite blinked, and his nictitating membranes drew back. His silver eyes were unfocused, the pupils bare slits in an argent field. “The birds break water under the moon,” he said.
Lamprophyre sat back. “What?”
“Open the chasm into the last of the geode.” Nephrite blinked again and swayed upright. “The fall eats its young.”
“You’re not making any sense,” Lamprophyre said.
“Lamprophyre,” Rokshan said, “is this a nest?”
Lamprophyre turned, releasing Nephrite to fall back against the stony cliffside. She scrambled over the stony riverbank to where Rokshan knelt, examining the pile of soft dead grasses and shards of eggshell. “Yes,” she said. “The egg is gone.”
“It didn’t hatch?” Rokshan picked up a thin piece of eggshell, gold on the outside and tawny cream on the inside, then dropped it hastily.
“No. Dragon eggs have very thick shells when they’re laid, and layers of shell fall off gradually until the shell is thin enough for the dragonet to break through. It’s too early for it to hatch, and there’d be a lot more shell if it had. Someone stole the egg.”
Lamprophyre stood and turned in a slow circle. It was impossible. No dragon would steal an egg—you couldn’t even call it theft, because the eggs belonged to the whole flight. Dragons had no natural predators. That left humans. Lamprophyre knew practically nothing about humans—she’d just proved that spectacularly in public—but she’d never heard of a human being able to hurt a dragon the way Nephrite had been attacked.
“I have to tell the flight,” she said. “They’ll be able to find the ones who did this.”
“There’s no time,” Rokshan said. “By the time you rouse them to action, the bandits will be long gone, and you’ll never see that egg again.”
A vision of the egg hatching in some distant human stronghold, surrounded by horrible humans thinking terrible thoughts, struck Lamprophyre to the heart. “All the more reason to hurry.”
“I can track them,” Rokshan said. “You go. Follow me when you can.”
“What? I’m not going to let you go after those thieves alone! Why would you?”
“Look,” Rokshan said, turning on her, “you were right about one thing. Humans and dragons need to be able to understand each other. If I can help restore this egg to your people, maybe that will convince your queen that that’s possible. But we have to move now. I can’t tell how long they’ve been gone—”
“Not long. The egg was here when we flew past on the way—I mean, I remember seeing it before.”
“I can see the path they took. They can’t be far away, but they’re headed for the river, and if they have a boat, that could take them anywhere. We can at least see where they end up, and then, if you and I can’t get the egg back, you can bring the dragons in force.”
Lamprophyre glanced at Nephrite, who was drooling saliva mixed with thin black acid from his second stomach. “We can’t leave him like this.”
“He doesn’t seem to be in any danger. And wouldn’t he tell you to rescue the egg over tending to him?”
“I want to know what they did to him. If it’s permanent—”
“Let’s worry about that later.” Rokshan hauled himself up to his seat and gripped her ruff tightly. “How close to the ground can you fly?”
“Not too close. We might be better off walking, except that’s so slow.”
“If you can stay about six feet off the ground—I mean, about as far as I am tall—that should be enough.”
It was hard going, staying low enough that Rokshan could follow their tracks, fast enough not to drop but slow enough not to lose the trail. Lamprophyre’s wings and shoulders ached, and her rear end was tense from keeping her tail from dragging. They followed the rocky foothills along what Lamprophyre could barely call a trail. “Are you sure you’re following them?” she asked. “I can’t see anything.”
“I’m an experienced tracker, and I don’t think they expected anyone to follow them,” Rokshan said. He leaned well to one side, with a single hand on her ruff for balance. “Why was that dragon so far away from your home? Isn’t that dangerous?”
“No animal would attack a dragon. And dragon fathers have to stay well away from other sapient
creatures, so they don’t hurt the egg with their thoughts.”
“Their—I don’t understand.”
Lamprophyre’s nerves were keyed to the breaking point as she strained to see any trace of humans or egg. “Dragons can hear the thoughts of intelligent creatures,” she said, hoping to calm herself. She’d do the egg no good if she were too tense to react properly. “A dragonet in the egg can’t shield herself from those thoughts. So they have to be kept away from everyone except their fathers, who are experienced at thinking the right things. Language. History. Traditions.”
“So that dragonet is in danger from those bandits’ thoughts.”
He was quick, Lamprophyre had to admit. “Yes. We have to get her free soon, and hope she isn’t damaged.”
“What happens if she is?”
“I don’t know. It’s never happened before, not so I’m aware. There are stories of eggs gone wrong, but they’re just stories.”
Rokshan leaned out far enough to make Lamprophyre flap harder so she wouldn’t overbalance. “Turn here.”
The new path took them more southward, out of the foothills and into the plains. Ahead, Lamprophyre saw the glint of flowing water. A river, wider and slower than the one near her home. Now even she could see the trail left by the bandits, the grass crushed by the passage of many feet. She alit near the trail and leaned to let Rokshan off.
“At least ten humans, and a pack animal,” Rokshan said. He crouched near the trail as if he could smell the bandits and track them as a fox would. “We have to be careful now.”
“Humans can’t hurt dragons,” Lamprophyre said.
“What about what they did to your friend? They have some weapon,” Rokshan countered. “Once we’ve spotted them, you distract them, and I’ll grab the egg.”
“That’s a terrible idea,” Lamprophyre said. “What if the egg is hidden? You’d be in danger the whole time you searched for it.”
“All right, what do you suggest?”
“Let’s find them first.”
Spark the Fire Page 2