“Endless worlds,” he said, “worlds filled with evil.”
“There must be good worlds, too.”
“Yes. But it is the evil worlds that will watch her as she looks for a way to destroy the dark. How could one bard and one dragon survive among those worlds?”
“She is strong, Teb. Surely the good powers among those worlds will help her.” Their look was long and close. She knew his thoughts at that moment as clearly as her own.
Seastrider and Windcaller rocked quietly on the sea, glancing at each other, filled with tenderness for the bards they bore.
When Iceflower woke, they lifted fast, spraying sheets of water, climbing up into a hard, racing wind that battered them but carried them with strength. But still, they had to drop to the sea every few hours so Iceflower could rest. Soon the sun was falling behind them, and they had not made enough miles. They rested as the sky turned red, and when they lifted up through the darkening sky, their flight was even slower. Soon it was deep night, and they were sweeping through low, tattered rain clouds that soaked them with fine mist. Teb could not stop thinking of the danger to Nightpool. And little Hanni was moaning and thrashing, asleep in the leather sling.
Camery said, “He’s so restless, and he’s been muttering. Shall I wake him?”
Teb looked through the mist toward Camery and Nightraider. “No. What good to bring a vision now? We’re moving as fast as we can. Let him sleep.” Maybe he didn’t want to know. He was already strung tight, tethered by their slowness.
They rested again when the rain slaked. Iceflower was weaker. There was danger that the dark would sense them faltering over the middle of the sea. Teb sent Rockdrumlin and Bluepiper to scout south for a small island where Iceflower could rest more easily. It began to rain hard. Only Hanni, in his leather sling, remained dry. Their minds were filled with thoughts of dark soldiers galloping toward Nightpool. Iceflower tried as hard as she could, stumbling through the sky. When Windcaller moved near to Teb, he could just see the curve of Kiri’s cheek between white wings.
You mean to go on alone.
I must.
I want to come with you.
They looked at each other in the darkness. The two dragons swept close, and he reached across space for Kiri’s hand, their arms freezing in the cold wind.
Alone, you might not stop the dark’s attack. But two dragons, one from each side—dragon fire driving them back . . .
She was right. And he wanted her with him. But he didn’t want to endanger her. Yet that was not fair to a bard. A sense of battle filled him, of cold urgency, and when the two dragonlings returned with news of a rocky islet, he looked across at her and nodded.
Seven dragons headed for the island. Seastrider and Windcaller banked away, east, beating fast against the wind, driving themselves on with powerful wings until, ahead in the gray dawn, shone the first small islands, scattered black on the reflecting sea. Kiri pushed back her hood and leaned down, looking. As the sky lightened, the vast mosaic of islands and small continents lay mottled across the gleaming sea, stretching away to their left. Windthorst was straight ahead, Teb’s own land of Auric describing the south quarter. They stayed above cloud, looking.
There was no sign of battle, no movement. They swept over Auric’s green meadows but saw no figure near the palace, not even a horse. So empty, Kiri said. Teb studied the palace, and was filled with homesickness. And though the land might look deserted, they sensed that it was not. The dragons lifted and headed for Nightpool, a black speck off the eastern coast.
They circled the little black island. White breakers licked its seaward cliffs. Nothing stirred on the rocks or in the sea. They dropped low but saw no otter fishing or gathering clams or playing in the shallows. Teb and Seastrider settled onto the water as Windcaller swept away north, along the coast.
Kiri leaned between Windcaller’s wings to search, but no army moved below them—they saw no sign of battle, no ships on the sea. The land was as empty as if every living thing had vanished from Windthorst. Not until they banked inland did they see the torn field of battle, strewn with dead soldiers. They dropped low, Windcaller’s wings casting shadows across the bodies.
How strange, Kiri said.
More than strange, said Windcaller. There was not one dead horse among the hundred or more dead soldiers—and these were not foot soldiers; they wore the yellow tunics of the dark warriors, who always went mounted.
The palace of Ebis the Black lies to the north, said Windcaller. They circled above the palace, hidden by cloud, and saw horses in the stable yards, people on the streets idling, selling goods; and they could hear music. Surely this city had not been attacked. They headed for Nightpool.
Teb jumped from Seastrider’s back to the rocks and climbed the steep cliff. As Seastrider rose to circle, he started along the island’s rim toward Thakkur’s cave, tense with dread.
The island was so still, the only sound the pounding of the waves. By dawn the otters should be out of their caves, fishing and playing. He paused on the ridge above the entrance to Thakkur’s cave, afraid to go down, afraid of what he would find.
At last, sword drawn, he moved down the wet, black cliff, and stood beside the cave door, listening.
The soft, regular huffing of a snoring otter filled the dim space. He grinned and sheathed his sword, then moved inside.
He could see the white blur of Thakkur, sprawled on his sleeping shelf.
“Thakkur.”
Another snore.
“Thakkur!”
The snores became uneven huffing. How many times had Teb heard that sound. The white otter turned over and began snoring evenly again.
“Thakkur! Wake up! The shad are running!”
Thakkur sat up grabbing his sword in one motion, his teeth bared in a fierce otter challenge.
“The shad are running. Come and fish with me!”
Thakkur dropped his sword with a shout of ‘Tebriel!” and leaped to meet Teb’s outstretched arms, nearly smothering him in warm, silky, fishy-smelling fur. ‘Tebriel! When did you come? What—what has happened to bring you?”
“Must something happen? Can’t I just visit?”
“You’ve been busy winning wars. There’s no time for pleasure. What brought you?”
“A vision,” Teb said. “A battle—dark raiders. But . . .”
The white otter smiled. “It has already happened. Sivich marched for Nightpool last night. We survived it nicely, thanks to Charkky and Mikk.”
Teb sat down on the stone sleeping shelf. “Tell me. I thought you would be—”
“We are not dead, Tebriel. Charkky and Mikk returned around midnight with a band of our best young otters. They tricked Sivich nicely. They alerted Ebis the Black, then stole all of Sivich’s horses. They guessed Sivich would attack Nightpool anyway, furious at the loss of the horses. We have badgered him constantly, and he has seen our scouts.”
“Well? What happened?”
“Oh, he marched for Nightpool, all right—all those horse soldiers having to go on foot.” Thakkur smiled, his white whiskers twitching, his dark eyes deep with sweet revenge. “When Sivich’s armies were halfway to Nightpool, Ebis the Black’s best horse soldiers surrounded them and killed them.”
Teb smiled. “We thought . . .” A commotion in the sea stopped him. Thakkur stepped to the door, sword drawn.
The white otter stood watching uncertainly as, beneath the cliff, the water roiled and heaved. Suddenly a huge white head burst out. Thakkur stared, then said, “Hah!” He stood his ground, looking, and Seastrider stared back at him, her green eyes laughing. A tuna dangled from her fangs. A second later, Windcaller crashed onto the sea from the sky, nearly drenching the island, certainly drenching her rider.
Teb had never seen Thakkur speechless. The white otter’s eyes were eager. His whiskers worked with excitement. He seemed to absorb every shining line of the dragons, every reflected color, every curve of their spreading wings. These were the creatures he had seen
only in vision, had only dreamed about.
Seastrider thrust her head at the white otter, pushed her nose at his face, and nuzzled his whiskers. Thakkur stroked her nose, his dark eyes bright with wonder.
“You are Thakkur,” she said. “You are the Seer of Nightpool.”
“I am Thakkur.”
“Come on my back, great white otter. I will show you the sky.”
Teb had to laugh at Thakkur; the white otter’s eagerness made him shiver like a cub. Seastrider swam close to the cliff, holding steady in the waves. Thakkur leaped from the cliff to her back as if he did it every day, then tucked his paws into the white leather harness.
As Seastrider lifted into the silvered sky, bearing the white otter, a shout behind Teb made him turn.
“Hah! Dragons! There are dragons!”
“Thakkur—on a dragon! Oh, my!”
Chapter 10
On Ekthuma, five speaking wolves were discovered talking with some children. They were killed and their bodies bound by chain to the children’s necks, and the children were made to drag them about the city. That is the way of the un-men. They hunger to destroy warmth and love.
*
“Dragons in the sea! Hah, dragons!”
Teb stared up the cliff. Two sleek brown faces looked down at him with broad, whiskered grins and dark eyes shining.
“Charkky! Mikk!”
“Tebriel! You have dragons!”
The two otters slid down the cliff to embrace him. They smelled richly of the sea and of fish. Teb knelt and gathered them in, hugging them, laughing with pleasure into their whiskered faces. Charkky pounded his back. “It’s a dream!” Charkky shouted. “You really do have dragons! You found dragons!” Mikk winked at him with admiration and looked up at Windcaller banking away over their heads. Kiri sat on a rock, watching them with interest.
“Maybe a dream,” Mikk said, “but their wings make real wind. And Teb is real, I can smell him! And who is that sitting on the rock?”
“Kiri,” Teb said, putting out a hand to her. She came to stand beside him. Mikk shook her hand.
Charkky smiled shyly when she shook his paw; he turned away and pulled at Teb’s arm. “Now that you have dragons, Tebriel, you can drive Sivich from the land. Kill Sivich—”
“I thought Ebis killed him. I thought—”
“Oh, Ebis didn’t kill Sivich,” Charkky said with disgust. “Sivich escaped. He was mounted—he wouldn’t go into battle on foot. He keeps a few horses locked in the stable; we couldn’t get at them. We had to leave them behind.”
Kiri looked from one otter to the other, first puzzled, then with surprised admiration. “So that was what happened to the horses. You stole them? I saw the battlefield.”
The two otters smiled.
Teb said, “If Sivich escaped, we’ll find him.” He put a stranglehold on Charkky so the young otter thrashed helplessly. With his face close to Charkky’s, looking into the otter’s dark eyes, Teb said in a low, growling voice, “We will destroy him—together, we will.”
“Hah, Tebriel! We’ll do that!” Charkky cried.
Teb held Charkky away, laughing. “I want to hear all about last night. How were you sure they were going to attack? How did you get the horses away?”
“We have spies in the palace,” Mikk said. “Sivich decided to attack Nightpool when he found out we had been stealing his food and weapons.”
Charkky laughed. “He was pretty mad, raving about wiping out Nightpool and killing all of us. Vermin, he called us!”
“So the night of his planned attack,” Mikk said, “we loosed the horses and drove them off toward the mountains, to be picked up by rebel troops from the coast.”
Teb looked impressed.
“Horses do not like growling otters biting at their heels,” Charkky said.
“You’re pretty well organized,” Teb said.
Mikk’s whiskers stiffened with pride.
“What happened when Sivich discovered his horses were gone?” Kiri asked.
“Hah,” Charkky said. “He was madder than sin, too mad to scrap the attack. He set out for Nightpool with half his soldiers—a hundred soldiers on foot and only himself and three officers mounted.”
Mikk twirled his worry stones. “His foot troops came at double march, and we followed them all the way, running in the darkness. Sivich kept grumbling and muttering about how he would slaughter us all.”
“He thought he’d just march down the cliff,” Charkky said, “and swim his soldiers across to kill us like sheep in a pen.”
“Ebis was waiting for Sivich in the valley between Auric Palace and Nightpool,” Mikk said. “His mounted men picked off Sivich’s foot soldiers like minnows in a tide pool. But,” he said more quietly, “Sivich will get fresh horses from the countries friendly to him, and more soldiers. He’ll come at us again, you can bet your flippers.” In spite of his steadiness, Mikk’s dark eyes showed a chill of fear.
“Hah,” Charkky said. “Now Tebriel is here! And Kiri! And two white dragons to cut Sivich down from the sky, burn him.”
“How long will it take Sivich to get new mounts?” Teb asked.
“A week or more,” said Mikk. “By now, the rebel troops will have swum the horses we stole, across the channel to Lair Island for safekeeping. Sivich would never find them there, in that tangle of caves and cliffs. He’ll send north for reinforcements.”
“We could join with Ebis now,” Teb said. “Attack Sivich while he has few soldiers and no horses.”
“But even without horses,” Mikk said, “he’s at an advantage when he’s fighting from within the palace. He will not come out into the open until he has reinforcements.”
Teb nodded. “I don’t want to burn Auric Palace. If we wait until new troops arrive, we can wipe them all out.”
“Yes,” Mikk said. “That would be Ebis’s choice, too.”
“There will be more dragons in a few days,” Teb said. “Seven more, and three more bards as well.”
“Hah!” Charkky and Mikk shouted together.
“Nine dragons!” Charkky yelled. “The sky will be filled with dragons!”
“And there will be a surprise for Thakkur, too,” Teb said. He wouldn’t tell them what, though they teased him to find out. He soon left the two otters and Kiri talking about the night’s battle. He went along the rim of the island to the caves that looked down on the inner valley, to Mitta’s cave.
The little pudgy otter was waiting for him. Teb knelt and put his arms around her.
“You are safe, Tebriel.” Her whiskers tickled his neck. “Oh, you are safe.” She squeezed him with eager paws, then held him away to look deep into his face, her whiskers twitching with happiness. Teb tried not to see the gray hairs that rimed her muzzle. “Dragonbard,” she said softly, her dark eyes and her eager otter face filled with bright wonder.
It was Mitta and Thakkur who had nursed him through his long illness when he hadn’t known who he was, had fed him, watched over him, set his broken leg, and changed the dressings on it.
“Dragonbard,” she repeated. “And you killed the black hydrus. Oh, I am proud of you, Tebriel.” She smiled a whiskery smile. “You will take back your land, now, when you destroy Sivich.”
Her assurance, on top of Charkky’s and Mikk’s, made Teb uneasy. Yet why should it?
He sat with Mitta for a long time, reminiscing, before he took her to meet Kiri and the dragons.
It was the next afternoon that the sky was filled with dragons, as Charkky had said. Mikk and Charkky ran to the highest rock, shouting and pointing. Wings hid the sky. Dragon faces looked down. Dragon teeth and claws shone.
When the dragons dropped onto the sea, they sent waves heaving against Nightpool. As they swam, rocking on the waves, two dragonlings brought Iceflower to the landward side of the island, where the sea was calm. She looked very weak. Mitta saw, and went to her.
Only Thakkur was not watching Iceflower or the circling dragons. He stared past them to where Nightra
ider rocked on the far swells. Camery was standing up on Nightraider’s back, between his spreading black wings. Her arms were raised. She was holding Hanni up, as high as she could. He perched there, looking across the waves at Thakkur. Thakkur looked back, rigid with amazement.
Thakkur dove.
He swam between dragons like a white streak. Before he reached Nightraider, Hanni dove, too. The two otters met in mid sea. They bobbed on the waves, looking. They circled each other, staring. They dove, surfaced, spun in the water, then disappeared beneath the sea. Teb could imagine their flying race deep down in the clear green water.
“No one had to introduce them,” Kiri said. “They were kin as soon as they met.”
He laughed and took her hand. The two white otters were together. He felt good, very complete. He put his arm around Kiri, and they watched Mitta, balancing on the rocks, with the waves crashing around her as she touched Iceflower and talked to her.
“What’s Mitta doing?” Kiri said. “Iceflower looks so sick.”
“She’s asking questions,” Teb said. Mitta had that stern, doctoring look about her.
When Iceflower rose from the sea, she winged in a dropping glide over the island, and came down in the center valley. Mitta stood on the rock cliff with paws raised, giving orders to a dozen young otters.
Soon Mitta had a fire burning in the valley and a kettle boiling, and she was gathering roots beside the lake. As she steeped her herbs and roots, Iceflower curled up on the meadow with her wings tucked around her. Kiri smiled, watching the efficient little otter. When the brew was ready, Iceflower sucked up the warm potion obediently, and soon her eyes drooped with sleepy comfort.
Soon afterward, a second pot of water was put to boil, and the otters began bringing shellfish. The bards crowded close to the fire, warming themselves, their stomachs rumbling as the good smell of steaming clams and lobster filled the wind. It was not long until they were feasting, at first hungrily, in silence, then with more grace. Marshy ate so much lobster, Kiri thought he would be sick. Hanni sat close to Thakkur, wrapped in Teb’s gull-feather blanket. The little white otter, like Thakkur, preferred his shellfish raw. All the otters began asking questions about what had happened in Dacia, though they already knew quite a lot.
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