The Dragon Mistress 3

by R. A. Steffan

  It was certainly uncomfortable on mine.

  Every topic I might conceivably care to broach felt like an unstable slope. Dislodging the wrong pebble would bring an avalanche down on us. It was a relief when he caught my eye and asked, “Ready to leave?”

  I nodded too quickly, and hoped that it would come across as eagerness to see my home village again. Cheen gave the stripped-down carcass of her kill a final shake and tossed it aside when Rayth beckoned her. My body protested hauling myself into the saddle behind him. I’d spent the better part of two days resting, yet I still felt like I could sleep for a week straight.

  The thin air above the mountain peaks was bitterly cold, but at least the chill combated my lightheadedness at these heights. Before long, though, we were descending along the northern slope. I pointed out the trail leading down from the western pass, which would be our guide toward Draebard.

  After nearly twenty years, the devastation from the battle between the northern forces of Eburos and the first wave of imperial troops from Alyrios was growing harder to see. Andoc and his allies had trapped those imperial troops on the very slope we were currently flying over, and then set fire to it. For years, the scars on the land had stood in stark reminder of the ambush.

  It was sobering to contemplate how much of a rout it would have been with dragons on our side. Of course, it was also something of a moot point, at least in the long run. Once Cheen and her two nestmates passed into the next world, there would never be dragonriders again.

  My eyes started to pick out familiar landmarks as we descended into the foothills. There lay the abandoned hill fort where an Alyrion commander had once held Carivel and Senovo hostage for days. In the other direction, I could make out the tumbledown trading post at the crossroad between the mountain trail and the east-west wagon track skirting the foothills.

  The steep foothills gave way to gentler slopes as the sun crept toward the western horizon, and I recognized the forest dotted with cut trees where Draebard harvested its lumber. Beyond lay the sprawling collection of huts and buildings anchored by the meeting hall on one side and the temple on the other. The river wove its way through the village in a lazy, serpentine sprawl.

  I was home. Surely I should feel something at that realization?

  Apparently, Rayth wasn’t in a mood to be circumspect. Cheen flapped down with a flurry of leathery wings in the center of the village green, watched by a handful of open-mouthed onlookers.

  “Way to make an entrance,” I muttered, quickly sliding down before anyone started panicking. Lifting one hand in an awkward wave, I called, “Hey! It’s me, Frella. I… um… kind of brought a dragon home with me. And… a prince.”

  I could feel Rayth’s eyes burning holes in the back of my neck, but in my defense, it had been a really, really long week.

  One of the onlookers stepped forward, and I recognized Zolis—a longtime member of the warriors’ guild. “Frella? Good gods, is it really you?”

  I waggled my fingers again, a bit sheepishly. “Hi, Zolis. Yeah, it’s me. My, uh… my friend and I need to talk to Andoc and the others. And I’ll need to find out where Carivel wants us to put the dragon.”

  Zolis eyed the beast warily. “Is it dangerous?”

  “Very,” I told him. “But not to anyone here. She’s… well… tame, I guess you’d say. She does my friend’s bidding, and won’t hurt anyone or kill any livestock without permission.”

  “Right. I’ll take your word for it, kiddo,” Zolis said. “I expect your folks are in the temple, unless Carivel is still out at the horse pens. You want me to go get them for you?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind,” I said, not particularly wanting to abandon Rayth here alone with what was sure to turn into a crowd soon. More people were already arriving to gawp.

  It wasn’t the first time in my life that I’d been the center of a spectacle. I’d once had the whole village out searching for me in the middle of the night after I’d snuck out to explore some caves at the age of ten, and ended up tumbling down a cliff. But it was still an unpleasantly awkward homecoming.

  In recent years, I’d been gone more than I’d been here—spending time in Meren with friends, or in Venzor with Andoc’s mother, or in Rhyth with my brother. I knew these people, but in some ways it had become a distant sort of knowing as the years passed. Rayth was a silent specter behind me, hanging back with a hand resting on Cheen’s neck to reinforce her tractability to the nervous onlookers.

  The light was starting to fade when two figures approached—one in flowing white robes and the other leaning heavily on a walking stick. My heart clenched, and I swallowed the odd sensation that tried to rise up in my throat.

  “Frella!” Andoc’s booming voice held notes of both pleasure and shock as he and Senovo closed the distance between us.

  Chapter 22: Echoes of a Life

  Frella

  THE TWO MEN approached in the grayish light of dusk, their familiar features igniting a fresh ache in my chest.

  “We did not expect your return so soon, daughter,” Senovo said warmly, as he and his bondmate joined me. One dark eyebrow lifted as he ran his gaze over Cheen’s obsidian form. “And certainly not under circumstances such as these.”

  The shape-shifting priest hadn’t changed much since I’d seen him last. His striking green-gold eyes were still incisive, and his bearing, upright. If anything, he might have gained a few more streaks of silver in his formerly black hair, which was still pulled back in its customary tight queue at the nape of his neck.

  Andoc also dragged his attention from me in order to take in the dragon occupying his central square. The aging chieftain still cut a powerful figure despite his withered leg. His wild brown hair was barely starting to gray at the temples. Though his rugged face had its share of lines from both smiles and frowns, I doubted his eyes would ever lose their boyish twinkle.

  He blew out a breath. “I wasn’t sure whether I should cuff Zolis on the back of the head or not, for trying to prank us,” he mused. “Apparently I was right to give him the benefit of the doubt.”

  I saw the exact moment when the pair took in my appearance properly, noting the bruises and my generally downtrodden demeanor. Andoc’s expression went hard and cold, his brown eyes immediately tracking to Rayth. I splayed a hand against his broad chest to shut down any overprotective paternal posturing that might be imminent.

  “It’s been… a rough few weeks,” I said quietly, addressing both him and Senovo. “This is my friend Rayth, from Utrea. If you could speak in Alyrion so he can understand you, I’d appreciate it. We all have a lot to discuss.”

  Senovo grasped my shoulder gentle in a grip. “Very well. Do you wish me to call for Healer Medea? You appear very pale, Frella.”

  I swallowed. “No, my injuries are several days old—for the most part, anyway. Right now, I just need you both to listen to what we have to say. Is Carivel coming?”

  “Zolis went to fetch her after letting us know that you were here,” Andoc said. “She’ll be along shortly.”

  With a deep breath, I nodded and turned to catch Rayth’s eye. He left Cheen to join us.

  “Rayth,” I said in Alyrion, “this is Chief Andoc of the Draebardi tribe, and High Priest Senovo—more widely known as the Wolf-Shifter of Draebard.”

  “A pleasure,” Rayth replied in the same tongue. For the second time in as many days, I got a glimpse of the fruits of a childhood spent training in formal diplomacy—though it couldn’t quite cover the void of emptiness that had been lurking beneath his gaze since Aristede’s death and the loss of the white dragon.

  “Thank you for returning Frella to her home,” Senovo said graciously. “It’s clear there is quite a story attached to your long journey from Utrea. Once Carivel arrives to assist in providing care for your dragon, it would be my honor to extend the hospitality of the temple this evening.”

  “You’re welcome in Draebard for as long as you care to stay,” Andoc added, before eyeing Cheen again for a l
ong moment. “Though, that being said… I fear we don’t have any facilities for—or experience with—keeping dragons.”

  “We can’t stay long,” I said. “Not… this time, anyway. That’s part of what we’ll need to talk to you about, as it happens.”

  Whatever reply he or Senovo might have made was interrupted by the arrival of a slight figure jogging toward us. Dressed boyishly with close-cropped hair and a suggestion of crow’s feet belying an otherwise smooth face, Carivel stared at the dragon wide-eyed as she closed the distance to us.

  “Good gods,” she said, slightly out of breath. “I’d assumed Zolis was joking about that part.”

  Blinking, she dragged her wary gaze away from the beast in favor of giving me a critical onceover. Her expression fell.

  “Hi, Carivel,” I said tiredly. “You were right about adventure. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

  “Oh, Frella,” she said, lifting her arms toward me only to hesitate. “Damn. I’m not sure where it’s safe to hug without hurting you.”

  I managed a watery smile and wrapped my arms around her wiry form. She hugged back gingerly before straightening.

  “Right, then—what did I miss?” she asked, her bright eyes moving to Rayth.

  I performed quick introductions in Alyrion, and she nodded.

  “Well, I’m afraid my Alyrion is fairly shite,” she said, “but hopefully it will be good enough to figure out what your dragon needs.” Her eyes pinned me, going wide again. “And Deresta’s flaming tits, Frella—that’s a sentence I never thought I’d be saying in any language.”

  “Yeah, tell me about it,” I agreed.

  Rayth cleared his throat. “The dragon won’t harm anyone, and for a stay such as this, she requires no special housing or care. However, she’s flown a great distance over recent days, and will need meat to sustain her. If there’s a hunting ground sufficiently remote that she won’t unwittingly terrify random hunters, she’s capable of procuring her own game.”

  Andoc shook his head. “It sounds like it would be easier to provide her with a sheep or a hog to eat, honestly. I’ve no idea which hunters might be where at any given time. Carivel?”

  “Yeah, I can arrange for that,” Carivel agreed. “It’s probably better if she stays in one place so no one’s taken by surprise. There’s a field east of the village that’s only used for growing hay. We can put her there. I’d prefer to keep her well away from the horse pens—the horses wouldn’t know what to make of her.”

  Fascinated, Carivel approached Cheen slowly and extended her hand. The dragon snuffled at her fingers curiously, little puffs of vapor visible in the cool air.

  Andoc gave a low snort of amusement. “And before our eyes, a new obsession is born,” he quipped, watching Carivel fondly.

  “Hush,” Carivel shot back. “Though I must say, Frella… if you rode in on this lovely creature, I’m jealous of that one aspect of your adventure, despite whatever else may have happened.”

  My throat grew tight, so I immediately fell back on deflection. “That’s only because you’re not afraid of heights.”

  Carivel gave the dragon a final pat on the forehead and raised her eyebrows at me. “Hey, there. The fact that you threw yourself off a cliff when you were ten isn’t my fault, now is it?” She glanced toward the west. “All right, then. We’d better get your flying friend here settled while we can still see what we’re doing. Afterward, we should go see what Priest Feldes has cooked up for supper tonight, and have ourselves a proper talk.”

  * * *

  Carivel was all business when it came to caring for animals, whether they breathed fire or not. In what seemed like no time at all, she had Cheen settled in the deserted hayfield, tearing hungrily into the carcass of a yearling pig.

  Rayth assured her that the dragon would be fine overnight, and we returned to the center of the village. There, the Draebardi horse mistress informed a few people gathered around the local cookhouse about the dragon’s location, and warned them that anyone who bothered the beast would face her wrath, assuming they didn’t get flash-fried for their troubles before she had a chance to tear into them personally. Relying on the village gossip mill to spread the word before the evening was up, she then led us to the temple where Andoc and Senovo were waiting for us in the refectory.

  Priest Feldes had indeed lived up to his usual standards when it came to the provision of nourishment to all in the temple who needed it. The aging priest had always had an expansive girth—being a bit too fond of his own cooking at times. His stomach had grown to even greater proportions in the months since I’d last been here, but his eyes shone with affection as he rose to greet me.

  “Frella! How good to see you again, my child. Come, come! Sit and eat. I can see you’ve had a hard time of it recently, you poor dear.”

  I let him embrace me, closing my eyes as the familiar environs of the temple soaked into me. Speaking in Alyrion for Rayth’s sake, I said, “Hello, Elder Brother. It’s good to be back. How are you and Priest Eiridan doing these days?”

  He patted my back gently and let me go, switching to the same tongue. “Ah… he’s off on another of his travels. This time to Llanmeer, I believe it was. Someone in the temple there purchased an entire box of old scrolls from the eastern lands, and you know how he gets about such things.”

  He bustled around as he spoke, filling bowls as he outlined the scholar’s latest research project. Rayth had been waiting somewhat stiffly near the door, but he joined us at the table when Feldes gestured expansively at him.

  “And you must be Rayth, from the far-off land of Utrea. Please, sit and be welcome. Eiridan will be crushed that he missed your visit—he is fascinated by anyone hailing from a different culture.”

  Rayth dipped his chin in solemn acknowledgement. “Thank you. Perhaps we’ll have a chance to meet in the future.”

  Once Rayth and I were settled, my three guardians joined us. Feldes rubbed his hands together, looking us over. “Now, I’ll leave you to your family reunion. There’s more bread and an extra flagon of ale on the sideboard. I really am pleased to see you again, Frella. Eat and rest, my dear—that’s the best cure for life’s hard times.”

  “Thank you, Elder Brother,” I told him, grateful for his bluff, uncomplicated affection.

  “Yes, thank you, Feldes,” Senovo echoed fondly. “We are blessed to have such a meal to share tonight.”

  Feldes smiled and gave an abbreviated bow before leaving us to it. In many ways, he and Eiridan had been as much a part of my upbringing as Andoc, Senovo, and Carivel, when Favian and I had been orphaned. Being in these familiar surroundings after everything that had happened in Utrea felt positively surreal, leaving me with a sense of disconnection from reality that probably should have worried me more.

  Rayth cleared his throat. “Indeed, we are grateful for your generous hospitality. Though I fear we may end up testing its limits, in the end.”

  Andoc broke off a chunk of flatbread and passed the plate. “I suspect there is little Frella could request that we wouldn’t make every effort to accommodate. Perhaps you’d like to share your story while we eat?”

  “Please do,” Carivel said dryly, helping herself to the bread as well. “We’re on pins and needles over here, let me tell you.”

  Her eyes met mine, but I gestured back to Rayth, deferring to him. If I tried to tell this story, I was pretty confident things would go downhill fast. Rayth, on the other hand, seemed to have donned his long-rejected prince persona like armor. I barely recognized the drunken, prickly man beside me in his new guise—another reason to feel disconcerted, as if I needed one.

  Drawing a deep breath, Rayth launched into a concise account of the situation in Utrea and his discovery of the surviving dragon eggs. He glossed over the details of his identity, I noticed—saying only that he was a member of the royal family fallen out of favor. Though I supposed that if we were moving here to Draebard permanently and lying low for the rest of our lives, it hardly matt
ered that he was the rightful ruler of the country we’d just fled.

  He also glossed over my personal failure in bonding with the male dragon, which I should have appreciated. In reality, it only made me feel ill. Some deeply buried part of me was growing increasingly desperate for some kind of… punishment, I supposed. Some way to make amends for everything that had happened, even though in truth there was no way to make amends.

  It just would have helped for someone to be fucking angry with me, instead of constantly solicitous. I was surrounded by people who wanted to coddle me, when what I needed was someone to curse me, to rail at me until I could feel something properly again.

  The numbness truly was beginning to frighten me, but it was a strange, detached kind of fear.

  That numbness didn’t even lift when Rayth recounted Aristede and Shantha’s deaths in a carefully dispassionate tone. I didn’t look at him as he spoke. Couldn’t look at him. I was aware of my guardians watching me closely, but I couldn’t meet their eyes either. Rayth wrapped up his story, and silence fell over the large room—empty but for the five of us.

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Carivel said. “Both of you. He sounds like a brave man, and a good friend.”

  My mind slipped sideways a little further, because I couldn’t bear to hear someone talking about Aristede that way right now.

  “It was a dangerous mission,” I murmured, my voice sounding flat and distant to my own ears. “I suppose we’re lucky that no one else died.”

  Lucky. Somehow that word seemed almost blasphemous in this context.

  I chanced a glance around the table. Andoc was looking at me with compassion as he spoke.

  “Perhaps, but that never makes loss any easier,” he said, drawing on wisdom gained over decades of experience as a leader and a warrior.

  “I’m fine, really,” I said, hearing the words as though they’d been spoken by someone else. “We need to talk about the real reason we’ve come. I know Favian and the others would try to help if we asked, but Rhyth isn’t a good place to keep three dragons. The city has its own set of problems, as you know.”