A Hatchling for Springtide (Santaclaws Book 2)

by Marc Secchia

  Descriptive of a morn, wasn’t he?

  He could not grit his teeth any harder without breaking one.

  When they were safely up the other side and checking the tree to which the hawser tensioning mechanism was affixed, he asked her to explain what she meant about the Mother Tree.

  Looking downcast, she said, She intimated that there might be a rebirth process and that I was somehow to be involved in it – I just don’t know how. She was so … so ageless, and wise, and melancholy about dying, and that’s what upset me. Now I see the Mother Tree might have meant that Her death was somehow necessary to give birth to the Dragon Egg. I don’t understand why She even chose someone like me, I mean, I’m so … inadequate, for any task like this.

  He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  I am! she protested. I’m just a little Elf from a – a challenging family background, shall we say? Why would She ever, ever pick someone like me?

  She had picked Rhyl? What for? Scanning her with his eyes, he noticed nothing unusual.

  He said, Perhaps She saw a special something in you that we all see?

  Keir, don’t.

  She could not bring herself to believe, could she? Bending, he kissed her cheek in the Elven fashion. What will you do now, o cousin-of-my-joy?

  The quaint phrasing brought a slight smile to her lips. Since you ask the straightforward questions, I plan to go ask the other Sacred Trees what to do. Since you chat to them as if they’re old friends, I thought I might just drag you along – if you were willing?

  Willing? Is this proposed dragging a painful experience?

  You jungle howler! she laughed, punching his shoulder. Stop trying to cheer me up.

  I win.

  Alright, so you do, Mister Competitive.

  Despite a few touch-and-go moments, the crossing proceeded as smoothly as could have been hoped for. There were one or two hysterical children, a sling rigged for the oldest of their number, and no mishaps. Pleasing.

  After that, he walked up to the cliff face he remembered, pointed and said, That’s the crack that hides the entrance. Right there.

  Several dozen Elves stared, and then burst out laughing as one.

  Elven laughter was high-pitched, like a group of tittering birds bursting into melodious chatter all at once. Even his mother had a merry chuckle going on, while Storm trilled his name as if his ideas were the silliest notions in the world.

  Now he was Keir Kestrelfoot the Immensely Short-Sighted, or something to that effect. A few more futile and increasingly red-faced attempts convinced him that no other could see what was perfectly clear to him. Right. Now he knew how the Dragons of old had hidden their citadel. No-one could find it because no-one knew it was there. Clever, and no doubt magical. Not even the sharpest Elven eyes could penetrate their defences, he concluded.

  Except his? How peculiar.

  It was not as if he had special eyes, unless the imprinting he had shared with his hatchling had changed something – such as, his ability to see straight through ancient magic? Auroral Storm Diamond wound her slender body about his legs, and then gave that upward tilt of her chin he had learned meant she wanted to be picked up. When he did, she took a seat upon his shoulder, her tail curled about his neck to provide better balance.

  Keee-irr ce-rri-vrrr, she stated to everyone.

  Oh. Misjudged. He tried to communicate his warm gratitude for the moral support.

  The Elves continued to look at him as though he had gone stark, raving mad. Great feeling. Somewhat mutinously, he announced, Translation: Keir’s clever and you are all blind. Shall I show you a trick?

  Halfway up the short climb, it occurred to him that if he had forgotten the location, he was about to be left with an awful, stinking double handful of rotten egg on his face. Thank heavens, he was the one left laughing when he plainly vanished from sight, and thirty-odd faces gazed up at him with identically amazed expressions.

  “Keir!” his father bellowed.

  “Och aye, Dad? Dinnae ye worry, I’m right here.”

  “Right where, ye conniving blighter? Come out where we can see ye.”

  That may have changed his cheeky wave to an even cheekier gesture, but Keir had been raised to respect his parents. “I’m waving at ye, Dad.”

  Standing in the crack, he reached forward until suddenly, people shouted and laughed and pointed.

  Kalar shouted up, “That’s a disembodied hand. That’s all we see. Quite the vanishing trick ye pulled on us, lad. Most impressive.”

  Oh, now he was impressive, was he? Could he have that inked on a scroll, sealed by the royal hand?

  Unwinding the knotted rope he had carried up, he created a loop at one end using a bowline and then from that, formed a simple slipknot. He drew the loop over a granite outcropping beside his head and pulled it tight. Swung his weight off it – good. He tossed the rope down to his adoring audience. As they should be. Not just anyone could turn invisible on command.

  It took the dragonet nipping gently at his ear at that point to remind him that he really ought to be working on being more gracious. Thanks, girl. He stroked her neck. She purred so throatily, it made his teeth vibrate. Do you mind? Important work on the boil here, like remembering how this unlocking mechanism works …

  Keee-irr frr-nee.

  Funny, eh? I’ll funny your pretty scales in a minute! Now, how’s about turning yourself into a useful scrap of lighting – lightning lighting – to help me see into this crevice? Thank you. She understood! Her developing abilities constantly amazed him. Here we go, and –

  Fascinating! Rhyl exclaimed right behind him.

  Keir startled so badly, he clouted his head on the very rock he had just used to secure the rope. “Oh, woman!”

  “Oh, man,” she teased back, not missing a beat. “Is this how ye discovered this entrance last time?”

  “Nae, I sort of fell into it from a mile up. Screaming out my wee lungs.”

  “Oh ho ho, I’d forgotten that detail,” she laughed on cue. “Think yer Dad will fit into that gap? He’s now’t the smallest amongst men.”

  “Hmm. Minus his armour, maybe. I should’ve had him dieting since Christmas, I feel –”

  “Do I hear sharp tongues dissecting my good name?” Kalar inquired, peering over the edge of the ledge that fronted this cunningly hidden cleft in the rocks. “Still cannae see either of ye, mind, but I can smell the mischief brewing from a hundred paces.”

  “Dad, that’s yer –”

  Rhyl punched his arm.

  “Looks a bit of a tight squeeze for the Ouliphant in the party,” his father added, with an alarmingly tilted eyebrow for his cheek. “Good. So this is yer crafty plan to make nigh forty Elves simply evaporate into thin air? Nice work.”

  “Aye, that it is,” Keir agreed. “Dad – will ye order a watch set outside? Let’s make sure our tracks disappear, too, and maybe slacken that hawser some. We really want to –”

  “Och aye! Rattle those battle bones!” Kalar exclaimed.

  “Exactly.”

  He issued the order at once.

  Half an hour later, an entire company of Elves and one Human had vanished without a trace from Drakabis Valley. Keir’s last reconnaissance noted the storm beginning to move. It would be a late-season Darkfall, and a bad one at that.

  Contrarily, he decided the storm’s onset must be viewed as comforting. The wind and snow would combine to sweep away any traces of their passing, and hope to stymie any pursuit from the capital. He worked the hidden mechanism one final time, shutting out the cold airstream stirring trees the length of Drakabis Valley. Then he trotted quickly down the stairwell, joining the Elves at the bottom. Several had brought compact travel lanterns. Together with the light given off by Auroral Storm Diamond, everyone had ample light to see by, except for his father.

  Everyone gazed at the gangly youth.

  Keir clamped down on his nerves. No time for that. He said, So, I planned to camp out down here until the storm passes over. T
hen, we need to think about scaling Tranbyss Pass –

  Why don’t we just walk beneath the peaks? Rhyl asked.

  Oh – uh, I guess –

  Why go over when we could likely find passage right through? the Elfmaiden smiled. Sigh. She was right again, and here came the facial egg he deserved … without great delay. Fate was like that. It loved to slap one with handfuls of egg – right? Perfectly weird image; perfectly Keir.

  We could try, he agreed.

  What do you mean? Where are we? several of the Elves asked.

  He had not told anyone, had he? Keir sighed. Time to reveal one secret, at least. He said, My friends, we stand at the portals of the ancient realm of the Dragon Kings. These are Santazathiar’s very halls, his throne room and his treasury. And, Rhyllaryssill is right. We might be able to walk right through beneath the peaks, if we can find the route – that is, if you don’t all expire of sheer wonder on the way.

  I’ve seen it all, son, Mister Garamyssill snorted, and may I inform you, young Elf, I am not due for any form of expiration just yet!

  Keir laughed along with the others at this cantankerous rejoinder.

  Oh, seen it all, have we? His wife gripped his arm fondly. I, for one, would like to see some venerable Elves eat their words for jungle fruit. Lead on, Keirthynal-our-strength. Lead us into wonder.

  Auroral Storm Diamond cleared her throat gently.

  Alright, you bright-pawed jungle sprite, Kalar laughed, reaching out to scratch her chin. We mean wonders apart from you.

  Krrrr, she agreed, as if that settled an indisputable fact.

  Well. Apparently certain dragonets were not without an opinion of themselves – not without reason, Keir considered, wondering how it was that she could simply accept admiration and adulation as her due. In the corner of her eye, he noticed her observing his reaction, and he wondered with a sudden pang to what degree his thoughts and feelings communicated to her awareness. Judgmental, envious, awed, grateful, baffled, overwhelmed … his emotions regarding what he shared with her were too many and too multifaceted to enumerate or understand.

  As he considered her nature, the fires of her extraordinary orbs expanded from that slight glance across and into the field of his vision, multihued and playful, fiery yet serene.

  The faces around him drew back in surprise, even fear.

  “What’s the matter with my brother?” Arami asked clearly.

  “Son?” Kalar said.

  Narini had shrunk back against their mother’s legs, her lower lip trembling and her face ashen. The depthless dark wells of her eyes reflected the eerie, feline-fiery light of his gaze. His heart flip-flopped painfully within his chest, the rapid drumbeat swelling behind his ears as if hammering on the portals in search of escape.

  He knew he had terrified his little sisters.

  Even Arami had that defiant, brave tilt to her chin – she did that when she was being determinedly brave. Hiding her fear.

  Then, the unimaginable happened.

  Little Narini stepped forward, declaiming in a high-pitched, singsong voice that was far from her usual timid whisper, and as clear as the clarion call of a crystal bell:

  Fear not, o people of Santazathiar’s paw.

  You see but the Mark of Promise,

  In the eyes of a Guardian,

  As souls into oneness are joined.

  All is well.

  Her eyes rolled to white.

  Keir found her in his arms, and in Shanryssill’s simultaneously, without conscious memory of how he had moved to catch her. He bent his ear to her chest. She’s alright. Heart beating, breathing … Narini? Narini, are you with us?

  Mrs Garamyssill said quietly, Great magic lives in the sap of your bloodline, o Shanryssill-be-honoured, o Kalar-be-blessed. You honour your ancestors most highly.

  I … Shanryssill shook her head, as rattled as Keir had ever seen her.

  Kalar said roughly, Was that – was that what I thought …

  The entire community surrounded them, drawn close by this unspeakably beautiful revelation. The very air quivered with wonder. Hands reached to touch the couple’s shoulders with two fingers outstretched, an ancient Elven sign of blessing, and then to touch Narini’s forehead ever so delicately with the same gesture.

  Granny Garamyssill said, Aye. Our little Narinyssill exhibits the signature power of a Mystic – a great and fearful fate.

  * * * *

  Gratitude warmed his heart as the attention shifted to another, at least for the time being. Granny Garamyssill recounted a little of the lore of Mystics for them. No Mystic had arisen amongst the Jungle Elves in over eleven generations. Amongst the Northern Tundra Elves, a people with a great tradition of Mystics, she believed one still lived, but the male Mystic had to be well in excess of his ninth decade of life.

  Elves believed that the rising of such a power presaged great and portentous events, so for her manifestation to come coupled with the birth of a Dragon was not unexpected. However, she had never heard of the power manifesting so young. As they walked deeper into the caverns that morn, the Elves quietly debated amongst themselves what this might mean, and Councillor Varanthyal added his voice – somewhat to Keir’s surprise – in full support of the idea of the need for the Elves to retreat deep into the jungles to consult with at least one of the Sacred Trees.

  Several miles deeper into the caverns, the Councillor came up to Keir, Kalar and Shanryssill, and without preamble, said, I must offer my humble apologies for my part in the audience with the King, which you will remember – I did not respond with honour, nor Elven gravitas-of-judgement, as would have been appropriate. Instead, I allowed my person and station to be abused. My deep apologies to you both, and to the noble Dragon.

  Thank you, honoured-Councillor, Keir replied awkwardly.

  Kalar nodded, My thanks also, honoured-Councillor. How do you judge the matter of bringing to the Jungles both Dragon and Mystic?

  Clasping his hands behind his back, the Councillor said, Times of great change, and great portent moreover, are upon us. This shall move the Elven clans in ways that are difficult to fathom without being deeply steeped in the current tangled lianas of politics. There will be a scramble for power and position, let there be no doubt of that. Thankfully, the young age of your daughter Narinyssill may be used to your advantage – as in, Elves believe in the inviolability of childhood innocence to an extraordinary degree. The families will want to protect her. Who assumes that role, is a different and more challenging question, not so?

  Indeed it is, his mother agreed. We Aryssillati are not powerful. Our children’s half-blood status will count against them.

  Kalar grunted, They had better not –

  You just became powerful, Varanthyal interjected sagely, with a courtly bow. Consider how you might use this new prestige well. One angle might be to force the Elves to unite and march to the aid of the Kingdom of Amarinthe.

  I had not considered that, his father said, stroking his beard.

  Another angle is to play the leaf of impartiality. Of course your Aryssillati link will be weighed in the measures, but I suggest from the outset that both Dragon Guardian and Mystic insist upon absolute, sacrosanct impartiality. That will sever much of the political shenanigans before it begins to bud. I can help you work out some sacred wording related to the Sacred Trees – Keirthynal?

  Honoured Councillor, Keir said, we have neither direct quest nor … mandate, I guess I’d call it, from the Lailan-Sarémia-tay-Vænar. Save that we saw her killed, apparently.

  In addition to Dragon Guardian and Mystic, Rhyl believed she might be destined to play a role in the rebirth of the very First Seed of the Elvenkind. What an honour! She would be the last person to believe she was worthy, but he intuited otherwise. Somehow, their little family had become a nexus for the fate and future of the Elvenkind. He wished he knew what it all meant.

  True, said Varanthyal, but your powers are mandate enough, I believe. Oh, I expect the very jungle boughs to tremb
le at the commotion we shall cause by advancing these claims! So, as a recently retired Councillor of Amarinthe, I have a favour to ask of you, Commander, and your family?

  Do ask, Kalar returned gruffly.

  Would you consider taking me into your service? Keir sensed his father stiffen. My heart is for service, and while there is yet strength in my limbs, I wish to do that in the best way I know how. I would swear to whatever conditions you see fit to impose, for I believe that the future of our Northern Pentate, and indeed, the races of both Elvenkind and Humankind, depend upon the successful defence of the Amaranthine Bulwark. Unlike some Elves, I will not swing idly in my hammock awaiting a Certanshi genocide against the Humankind. To me, that is anathema. I can be your Elder voice when the Council meets. Think upon my proposal.

  Whirling upon his heel, he strode away to speak to another family.

  Kalar exchanged a staggered glance with his tiny wife. Keir knew what they were thinking. Had they completely misjudged the man?

  Chapter 13: Lurker

  TRILLING IN WONDER, THE dragonet leaped down from Keir’s shoulder, the better to goggle at the treasure chamber’s wonders. Legend told how good gifts were given to the children of the Humankind, Elvenkind, Dwarvenkind and Giantkind as Dragon eggs by Santaclaws himself. No wonder he could afford it, Keir told himself. The treasure grew no less staggering upon a second viewing, and as the lights washed away into the distance to reveal the almighty crimson Dragon standing upon his plinth, the Elves behind him gasped as one. Then, they fell to their knees in reverence.

  Santazathiar be blessed! someone exclaimed fervently.

  Several of the younger children gurgled with the kind of laughter that only arises from sheer, spine-tingling wonder.

  “It’s Santaclaws himself!” Arami squealed. “Look, Daddy! Look!”

  “He’s too awesome,” Narini whispered, hiding behind Kalar’s leg. But even her shyness did not prevent her from peeking around from behind, her mauve eyes shining with an inner light as she took in the glittering scene.