by Alex Sapegin
“I gave them so much mana, their artifacts couldn’t take it,” he said.
“There isn’t so much mana, not in dragons or in humans, not even half as much as needed to break the artifacts on the pentagram beams,” she summarized. “Unless a dragon was taking energy from external sources. Were you giving them outside energy?”
“Yes.” Lanirra was thinking like the smart, logical mage she was.
“Now I understand why you look like a grown dragon. In order to work with astral energy you need a fully developed system of internal energy channels and storage accumulators.” Lani fell silent again. She raised her head and looked at Andy cleverly. “And would you share mana with me? I can heal faster with your help.”
“I would, but I don’t know how.”
“I’ll create the channel. Look at my aura. Do you see a white spot on it?”
“I see it. It looks like a rose.”
“Send your energy to the flower.”
Andy dove into settage, touched the astral in the same familiar way, and sent energy from the ocean to the flower the other dragon had indicated. Sharing mana turned out to be such a nice feeling….
“Kerr, wake up. That’s enough,” he heard, as if through an insulated barrier. Andy opened his eyes and jumped away from Lanirra. It turned out he had covered her completely with his body and wings. Geeze, man! After that, you simply must marry her! “Thank you,” the lady dragon whispered. “Now I’m quite sure you became a dragon not long ago at all,” Lanirra chuckled. “I believe you, and you will be a brother to me until you grow up a bit, and then we’ll see,” she added, licking herself, and touched the membrane of his wing with her paw. Heck, the sentence has not been reprieved! It’s just postponed. But maybe by then, the heavenly judges will declare clemency? “You’re so funny and naive. Any female dragon could wrap you up in a tight membrane. I’m so hungry.”
The old scales began to fall from the lady dragon’s sides; new ones pushed through looking like little red scabs. Lanirra playfully bit Andy’s neck and ran to the icebox. He knew very well that at that time, eating wasn’t what a dragon wanted—scarfing was. Now they’d talked. He was a little hasty in thinking of Karegar. First, he had to avoid tying the knot himself. Today’s conversation was a reprieve. It would be ten years before he would have to worry about it again for real.
“Kerr, what was that?” Timur asked him. “You glowed.”
“I was healing Lanirra.” What else could he say?
“Really? Is that what they call it nowadays?”
“Timur, do you want to get your face bashed it? I’ll make it so bad dragon’s blood won’t help any more.”
Timur lifted his hands defensively in a peacemaking gesture, with a slight smile still on his face.
Andy carefully laid down between the sleeping dragonlings and Tyigu, thought a little, as if he were wary of committing another snafu, and covered the kids with his wings. In fifteen minutes Lanirra flew up to the platform, after having consumed an entire bull. He looked at his “sister,” who was no longer limping, who laid down cozily next to her son. Women. Just try to figure them out…. The heavenly sculptor must have cut them all from the same cloth, whether humans or dragons!
“Tell me about yourself,” he asked.
Lanirra’s story was simple and uncomplicated. She was born three thousand years ago, shortly before the Great War. The elves’ spell and the death of the chiefs stirred up all the dragons. Anticipating a massacre, her father relocated his fifteen-year-old daughter to the Southern Rocky Ridge, so hated by dragons because of its proximity to the ocean and strong winter snowfalls. A lot of snow means only a little prey. The little dragon was left alone for a long time. She didn’t keep track of time, but several months went by before her father returned to the cave.
Lani learned from him that the Great Forest, like the dragons, was no more.
“Soon there will be no one left at all,” the old dragon said to her gloomily. “There are practically no females left. We will die out, but the elves will not outlive us for long if they can at all.”
They lived together, just the two of them, for about five hundred years. Her father taught her magic, explained their customs, sometimes even brought humans, elves, and orcs in and explained the differences between them and whether it was possible to live with them peacefully. The old dragon did not let her go anywhere. She was not allowed to fly farther than ten leagues from the cave, but he himself sometimes was away for a week or two on end. The news he brought was always terrible. The dragons had taken cover in the mountains. Rangers from the Forest elves were hunting them. Their former allies were not helping the winged tribe in any way.
“The cowardly snakes are afraid,” he said then, spitting fire. “No wonder the orcs from the north knocked them out. Neither the Arians nor the Rauu are helpers anymore. The yellow bellies…. The time will come when they will remember the dragons, but I don’t know who would fly to their aid.”
Soon Lani was left all alone. One rainy morning, her father simply did not wake up. Dragons live for a very long time, but they are mortal. She left her home cave in search of a new dwelling.
For a few days, the dragon wandered about the mountains. But she did not meet a single fellow tribe member. No one answered her inviting calls. The young lady chose a secret valley and settled in a small cave on the incline of a volcano extinct since time immemorial.
How great her surprise was when humans came to her cave and brought several rams as a gift. The dragon magnanimously accepted the offering. It didn’t occur to her that hunters could have found her cave, and the offering might be poisoned, but luckily that’s not what happened. By the following summer, a whole village had grown up in the valley. The humans had peacefully sown the fruitful ground, raised herds and periodically appeared at the cave with another gift. Lani did not touch the settlers. She unleashed a few free modules into the village through which she could study the bipeds’ language and culture.
A few years later, cave mrowns came to the valley from the neighboring lands and began to prey on the cattle. The humans appeared at her cave and asked the “winged death” to protect them from the predators’ rule by force, promising to bring a cow or a bull to her every three months, and two rams every month. Lani thought about it and agreed. She ate like a bird—a very large bird. The mrowns were chased out in three days’ time, and those that refused to be chased—eaten. Meat is meat, right? Why don’t humans like cat meat?
But one day the peaceful life came to an end. Thousands of armed humans came to the valley and burned the village. A large faction of mages set out towards the dragon’s cave. After launching a few dozen enormous fireballs at the newcomers and leveling the remains of the village to the ground along with the conquerors, Lani flew off. She had hidden in the deep backwoods for over a thousand years until she encountered Norigar. He was a big red dragon, as big as she was, who had flown here from the Northern Rocky Ridge, where the hunters had destroyed his nest. He killed them, but it was too dangerous to stay where he was, so he headed southward.
Lanirra lived with Norigar for over two hundred years. They constantly changed caves and flew from one place to another; teams of hunters scoured the mountains in search of them. The moving continued until the female dragon realized she was in the family way. The pair decided to take up residence in a cave that seemed safe, far from human settlements.
When the time came, the twins Rary and Rury were born—Rarirra and Ruritarr. Their family happiness lasted twelve years.
What happened next in Lani’s story Andy already knew from the priest he had executed.
Helrats spotted the dragon as he was out hunting. Not wasting a single day, back at the monastery they formed a squadron of dragon catchers, but their scouts brought the news that in the mountains there was a whole nest. They called in rangers from the Light Forest to take the reins. The Woodies didn’t shy away from consorting with forbidden cults if it got them the chance to hunt their ancient enem
y. A multitude of birds, controlled by the Woody mages, flew off into the mountains. A few days later, they knew the exact location of the cave. So as not to frighten the dragons, the Woodies resorted to cunning. For three months the birds brought hundreds of dried black lily bulbs to the cave. One fine evening (for the hunters), smoldering tinder fell on the pile of bulbs. The husband and wife were caught unawares. The black poisonous smoke put them all into a deep sleep, parents and children alike. The priest didn’t know what became of the male. They had agreed to hand him over to the Woodies. But “his little woman” and the dragonlings had remained in the monastery for six months. They were witnesses to how that captivity ended.
It was 5 a.m. The sun would soon rise. After the dragon recounted her life story, the travelers retired to their tents. Silence fell on the former monastery. The long day and no shorter night had come to an end. Lani was quietly whistling through her nose in her sleep, her face tucked under her wing. Rary and Rury gave a little peep now and then. Tyigu sometimes kicked in her sleep. Andy laid his head down on the cool stones and thought. He had to sort out his thoughts and make a plan. Everything that had happened yesterday and today left nothing but greasy black ash in place of his former plans.
First. His sharp claw drew a long line on the pavement. He would leave the human prisoners here. He had zero responsibility to care for them, and they could do just fine without his help. They’d been given a good meal, gotten a good night’s sleep, had the benefit of a huge amount of grub, and they could go where their spirits took them. Or stay here. He couldn’t care less.
Second. He drew a second line next to the first. Timur and the conceited elf Lubayel. Andy remembered how she’d slapped him in the face when he came back from the lower levels of the dungeons in the form of a Rauu—how dare a foul mix look upon a naked high-born elf with his shameless eyes?! He lost the gift of speech and just stood there blinking stupidly, trying to figure out what just happened. He had never been slapped before in his life. He’d been tortured, burned with fire, poisoned with flies, and had his teeth knocked out, but a slap in the face…. The completely unexpected slap made him see stars and offended him. He felt unjustly humiliated. He had to save his reputation and his honor. Never mind that she had been stripped, subject to mind control, and nearly used as a sex slave. She had no right to be embarrassed or upset. Even with everything he’d been through, Andy was still a teenager and a male with a fragile ego.
“Name, title, unit number?” he yelled at the top of his lungs. “Quickly! You may address me as ‘ler,’ got it?”
The elf jumped bolt upright. Slaisa’s clothes, taken from the luggage they’d found and given to a friend in need, didn’t quite fit her in the chest. Her army instincts, now deeply ingrained in her head, had their effect. The Rauu introduced herself and barked the title of her commander and her unit number, adding that she was a griffon rider with the rank of sergeant. Timur snickered.
“Roi-dert,” Andy turned to his friend (Timur had told Andy his title back in the basement). “What is the punishment in the griffon wings for offending a senior ranking officer?”
Timur listed several types of punishment—from extra on-duty hours to lashes and the brig. It all depended on the type of offense. When he was through with the punishments, he smiled and said that he was responsible for the ally he’d saved at Ronmir; therefore, he too bore a portion of the blame. Timur and the elf got two extra shifts and came under Ilnyrgu’s command. After one hour, one of the orc women let it slip that the commander had no military title. The elf said nothing, finished peeling the potato she was working on, cut some meat, but decided not to have dinner and went to her cell. Well, let her go! Andy’s own self-assessment put him at the rank of a lieutenant. Considering his firing power as a dragon, he was equal to one whole griffon wing. The elf didn’t come out for dinner—she sat in her cell all evening. Pride goeth before a fall.
However, he now had to decide what to do with her and her rescuer. Neither of them had two coins to rub together—both had good hearts. Weighing all the pros and cons, Andy decided he had to send Timur to Troid. The priests had killed Pumpkin; the griffon riders were transport-less for the moment. It made sense to assign his friend a couple of hasses; Timur would get the food supplies in the morning himself. He would provide them with weapons—they would need them. He would charge the arrows with mana. They would make it to Troid. They weren’t children.
Third. Andy grabbed a pebble and drew a fat third line. Himself and the “company.” This was an interesting question. His thoughts rattled around in his empty skull with the rumble of an iron barrel. Not a single possibility stuck in his mind. My people. The orcs, Tyigu, Olaf and the dragons were firmly set as “his” people in his mind and he thought of them as nothing less than family. He would be willing to slit anyone’s throat for them. Tyigu and the winged babies even more so. He knew why Lani had chuckled. He became attached to the dragonlings in an instant. Now Andy understood Karegar and Jaga very well, why they hadn’t wanted to send him into the outside world. Everything Daddy had had to go through… it was awful to imagine. Dragons’ parental instincts were unbelievably strong, and he was hooked like a fat fish chomping at the bait on the end of a line. On top of all that, he felt traces of Alo Troi’s mental perception and his sense of fatherly love for his daughter.
No matter what the others thought, he was responsible for them. Andy tried out the word family and he liked the way it sounded. He wasn’t planning on losing his family. He would make it to the valley, he had a notion of how he would…. And then he would fly to all the nests discovered by the helrats and gather all the dragons into one place. Enough hiding in bears’ caves. Even ten winged monsters would constitute a real threat, especially when one of them could wield the energy of the astral. They would entrench themselves in the mountains so deeply and firmly that the hunters and whole armies would break their teeth on them. He just had to decide whether it was worth it to build bridges with the Rauu? In light of recent events, it appeared something was rotten in the state of Denmark. The ones who appeared white and fluffy were not always so. According to Timur, the Rauu were true heroes who sacrificed themselves at the walls of Ronmir, but a few bad apples spoil the whole batch. Take Lubayel for instance—she was an awesome girl. Knock all the arrogance out of her, and she’d be priceless. So… should he go on with it then?
There are no two ways about it—I have to go to Troid and capture the portal arc. Now there’s a real thought! War has only just been declared, so, everything’s in a state of upheaval with the higher-ups. The soldiers are harassing the citizens, and the citizens are doing the soldiers bad turns. It’s the best time to catch fish. No one can hide in a monastery for long. You can bet your butt corrupt officials or other helrat communities will soon be here to check on them—which means we should be expecting company. But if we take the arc, we can kill two birds with one stone—get the documents, the proof, to the authorities and also travel—not to Kion, but straight to Gornbuld. I’ll charge the portal with energy. No one expects us to be so bold. We can take the control amulets from the monastery to make sure the mages who control it don’t squirm.
Andy rubbed his paws together. In the morning he would tell “his” people his plan. What would the orcs and Olaf think of it? Lani’s opinion didn’t matter—she would be a heavy artillery strike aircraft.
Disturbing the pre-dawn calm, one of the free tracking modules sounded an alarm; literally a couple of seconds later, one of his voluminous “spider webs” went off—twenty low-flying griffons were fast approaching the monastery. Targ! Talk about timing! It’s those “guests” I was expecting! Speak of the devil!
Putting on their armor and the tack on their horses as they went, the orcs darted out of their tents. Olaf pulled back the string of his bow; “firelights” glowed from the quiver with a clear light.
The second “spider web” went off. Thirty more riders on half-birds appeared from the direction of the mountains. There could b
e no more doubt—the army was descending upon the monastery. Powerful magical lights suddenly burned in the sky. Andy dove into settage, connected with the astral, and prepared to destroy the enemy completely and without warning. No one could stop him. Let a whole regiment of griffons come at them.
“We’re not the enemy!” A magically enhanced voice rang out over the camp. “Please don’t shoot. Three griffons will land near you!”
“We’re not the enemy! Please don’t shoot. Three griffons will land near you!” it said again over the dragons and people.
Three half-birds carrying two riders each separated from the first group.
“Golden griffons,” Timur whispered.
The griffons hovered majestically over the platform and, beating their wings quickly, carefully landed. The first griffon bore Miduel. Knocking with his carved cane on the pavement and groaning, he descended from the beast. The second one bore Melima, and, holding her hand to her forehead, Frida….
Part three, Shadows of the Past.
Tantre. Ortag. Frida…
“Can you sense anything?” Melima walked up to Frida and kicked a pebble with the tip of her boot.
“Yes, it was him. I can sense his mental cast very keenly. He was standing right here.” Frida took a few steps along the former street and stopped, looking around helplessly. She was very sure that several buildings had been wiped from the face of the planet by a strange magical tornado. What kind of magic had been used here? “Cold and emptiness. Kerr wasn’t thinking of anything. He was weaving the spell.”
“And he killed dozens of people and mages with one movement of his hand,” creaked Miduel, who appeared from around the corner, surrounded by ten bodyguards. A tall, gangly Norseman with the embroidery of a unit commander strode alongside the elf.
Miduel stopped a few steps away from Frida and commanded the bodyguards: