by Jess E. Owen
He wasn’t so sure about Ragna.
Caj couldn’t read wolf faces well, but thought Ahanu’s looked deeply troubled at the sight of the skins, but moved by the gesture nonetheless.
“Thank you,” murmured Ahanu. After a moment, as if he listened to some suggestion from the wind on the rocks, he said, “Let them rest here.” His gaze searched the face of the Widow Queen, then drifted to each wolf and gryfon gathered. “Let it all rest here. All that has passed. Black Rock is a place for the dead. Let our enmity be dead, here.”
The fledges exchanged glances, then respectfully bore the wolf skins to lay beside the dead gryfons. Caj shifted his feet, chilled without the warm down of a Vanir.
A waste, all of it. A dead wolf had no use for its skin and they’d done better lining gryfon nests.
But then, he reasoned, how would I feel to know that my father’s feathers lined a wolf den?
The wolves raised their voices, and the gryfons shifted uncomfortably as the long, low notes soared through the air. Caj wondered how many, wolf or gryfon, would actually lay their prejudice to rest on that black isle. He’d had to leave his in the snows of Star Island, that night he’d awoken among caring wolves to find that they’d saved his life.
“Let us return,” Ragna said. “Those who wish to learn fishing, or still remember the ways and would help me, come to the Star Cliff. Others, shelter and keep warm. I fear another storm brews.”
With that dismissal, Ragna opened her wings and bounded into the sky. The fledges followed, eager for the adventure of the seashore and the strange art of hunting fish, as did several of the old Vanir. Caj noted, with interest, that Einarr’s mother left with them, after a last comforting word to Astri.
A coldness grew in Caj’s chest, the tight, horned discomfort of unfinished business.
The pride was well in wing, sorted out enough that Caj needn’t worry about anyone starving, nor fights breaking out. The Aesir who were left followed his daughter, Thyra, who carried Kjorn’s heir in her belly. The Vanir followed Ragna, Shard’s true mother. Though tensions and uncertainty strained them, Caj felt confident there would be no violence.
It was time. He took a deep breath, hoping it wasn’t too late.
“Will you make the rounds with me?” Sigrun murmured, brushing fondly against his feathers. “Your presence calms the females.”
She was happy, no longer torn between loyalties, relieved that she could provide the pregnant females of the pride with hearty meals of fish, though the regular hunting remained poor. A healer’s dream, Caj thought. Peace time, good hunting. He wished he could feel at peace, too.
Perhaps soon.
When he didn’t answer, she drew back to look at him. He studied her dove-brown feathers, her face, an older, more refined version of Thyra’s, her brown eyes strained from long years of worry. “What is it?”
“I won’t be going back to the nesting cliffs with you.”
Sometimes, he thought she could see inside his thoughts. Her expression darkened. “What are you planning? Your wing isn’t fully healed. Where are you going?”
“Some of this is my doing, Sigrun. I have to make right what I can.”
“You have. We’re at peace!”
“Not all of us,” he said quietly, his gaze lifting to the sky.
Her gaze followed his, and she drew a sharp breath. “No. Leave it be. It’s folly, it’s too dangerous. He’s witless and mad with grief, my mate, please, it’s too dangerous. There’s a reason that Ragna has not sent warriors after him. Let him return to you instead, if he ever comes back to his right mind.”
Caj rounded on her, raising his wings sternly. “What would you do, if it were Ragna? I don’t forget Sverin’s sins and mistakes. But I also can’t forget that he’s my wingbrother, my friend, and that I also left him alone and I lied. What part I played in his madness, I’ll never know. We all have mistakes to accept.”
“You’re too good for him,” she whispered. A few gryfons paused to watch their argument openly, then, at Caj’s sharp look, they moved along, either to walk with the wolves or lift into the sky. Sigrun butted her head against his chin. “Please…”
“I’m going to find him,” Caj vowed, ears swiveling forward in determination. “On whatever isle he shelters, or out at sea, or if he flies all the way back to our homeland. I cannot leave my wingbrother again, just as you would never betray Ragna.” He drew back to meet her eyes, firm. “I stood by you while you remained loyal to her.”
It was the right thing to say, though he felt it was cheating. She looked struck, then the cool, controlled look of the healer stole over her face. “Then, I’ll come with you—”
“No.”
Her hackle feathers ruffed slowly, showing her displeasure.
“My mate,” Caj murmured. “You see the sense of it. The females of the pride need you. And it’s better if I’m alone. If Sverin is witless, he would see two gryfons coming to attack. If he’s not, he sees you, who he…who…”
“He hates,” Sigrun supplied, matter-of-fact.
“Yes. And you’re not to send anyone else, either.” At her incredulous look he added, “I know it would be faster. But say someone spies him from the air, he could see and be gone, or attack. He sees only enemies, only threat. I’m his wingbrother. I have a chance, and I won’t risk anyone else in this.”
She was quiet for a moment, and Caj could nearly hear her trying to think of another way in. She almost found it. “What about Halvden?”
Caj flexed his talons against the snow and rock, a growl bubbling in his throat. “I would be very glad to meet Halvden again.”
She wasn’t impressed. “How will you search, then? You can’t fly yet.”
“I’ll use the tunnels to reach the different islands. The wolves are happy enough to lead us through.”
After another moment looking grim, he watched her expression relax. She realized, he knew, that he’d been planning to go ever since he learned that Sverin had flown, mad and Nameless, away from the pride.
She reached up to run talons gently over his mending wing. “Be cautious.” Her voice rose in pitch, trying too hard to sound light. “I won’t have my good work go to waste. I would hate to have to break your wing again.”
Caj laughed weakly and began to lift his wing, then thought better of it. “As would I.”
Before, when they’d all thought him killed by a boar, Caj’s wing had started to fuse wrong. To force it to heal correctly, Sigrun had to break it again. He would still fly again, but only if he let her splints do their work.
“I’ll stay,” she murmured. “But please, if it comes to a choice between danger and safety, between risk and caution—”
“Between him, and you?” Caj offered, glancing at her sidelong. Twilight dimmed the day. It would take Caj most of the night to walk, through the tunnels underneath the islands, to the next isle where he could search. It was time to get moving. “Only think what you would do in my place, and try to understand.”
Sigrun looked away. She had chosen her wingsister over him, once. Surely she couldn’t begrudge him this quest to find and save his wingbrother. She slipped her head under his chin and Caj nuzzled down, aware of wolf eyes on them, and the laughing calls of ravens in the distance.
“Just return to me,” she whispered. “I lost you once—”
“I’ll return,” he promised, and savored another moment close to her before drawing away, letting the cold come between them, and walking away.
~ 5 ~
Earthfire
SHARD PRESSED HIS EAR against the crystal and closed his eyes, listening for the faintest scratch or rumble. Hikaru, sitting behind him, peered through the ceiling of their chamber. Already his senses grew sharper than Shard’s own, and Shard relied on his hearing.
“I think they’re asleep,” Hikaru murmured, his tail sweeping slowly across the ground. He lowered himself to a crouch on all fours, pressing his paws against the earth. “Does the ground feel warm to you, Sha
rd?”
“It’s from you, I think,” Shard said quietly, pulling back from the wall. Hikaru shed warmth like a fire, and the ground had warmed steadily under their feet for the last few days. The other possibility, that the volcano was waking, wouldn’t matter once they fled the mountain.
“I don’t think so,” Hikaru said. “I think it’s something else. You said that volcanoes sometimes make earthquakes.”
The short feathers between Shard’s wings stood on end like wolf hackles, as if skyfire crackled near.
Nerves, he thought.
“It won’t matter in a few moments.” Shard crept to their tunnel and began drawing out the dirt as quietly as he could. “We’ll be out of here soon.”
“You’re sure we shouldn’t leave at night, while they’re gone hunting?”
“No. The moment they realize we’re gone, they’ll hunt us all night. In the day, they won’t follow. We’ll have a head start.”
Shard slipped his talons down through the loose dirt, and dug it back out. They’d tunneled through to the other side of the crystal wall and refilled the dirt each day so the dragons wouldn’t suspect their plan. The last of their fish was gone. With Hikaru shedding heat, the air dried up and they needed water. Even if Shard had wanted to wait another day, they couldn’t risk losing more strength to hunger and thirst.
“Only in the stillness the wind,” Hikaru was murmuring, eyes closed, “only from ice the flame.”
“Are you ready?” Shard asked as he pulled dirt from the tunnel. “We’ll have to be swift.”
Quietly Hikaru answered, “I’m ready.” Hikaru’s claws clicked together. A new habit, a nervous habit of threading his digits together and wringing his paws. “Shard?”
Shard paused at the note of fear in his voice, and wriggled back out of the tunnel to meet his gaze.
“What is it?” He shook dirt from his head. “Don’t worry, we have a plan.”
Hikaru’s gaze drifted up. “What if…what if I can’t fly? What if I’m not strong enough?”
Shard flicked his ears, moved by the earnest, nervous expression on the young dragon’s face. He trotted forward and butted his head against the scaled chest. When Hikaru sat up on his haunches, as he was then, he already stood a good half-length taller than a gryfon.
“Never fear, Amaratsu’s son.” He drew back, opening his wings to draw Hikaru’s gaze back to him. “We are born to fly.”
“Born to fly,” Hikaru echoed. He nodded, his gaze locked on Shard’s face. “Born to it.” His breath seemed short as he opened his wings.
The ground trembled under them and Shard looked down, perking his ears.
“That’s not wyrms,” Hikaru murmured, a serpentine hiss creeping into his voice. At once, Shard realized his hind paws and forefeet did feel hot, as if the subterranean floor had baked for a day under summer sun.
The ground shuddered. Then a larger tremor made Shard stumble, and Hikaru’s eggshell rolled across the ground. The scent of hot rock and sulfur suffused Shard’s next breath.
“Bright Tyr,” he breathed. “It’s—”
“Earthfire!” Hikaru’s tail whipped and he perked his ears at the ground. “Shard—”
“Out, now!”
Shard dove into the tunnel, talons flailing to throw dirt out of his way. He broke through to the other side and shoved his head out, shaking it free of dirt. He forced his breaths to stay shallow and silent. The wyrms slumbered on, at least a dozen of them, great hulking shapes ringing Amaratsu’s body. Shard had hoped for fresh air, but their thick, reptilian scent drenched him and the cavern felt hot and thick. Something nudged his rump and Shard wriggled forward to give Hikaru room.
“Ready?” Shard whispered, and lifted his beak to point out their escape. Hikaru slithered out beside him, shook off dirt, and peered around. High at the top, far away, gleamed a narrow beacon of sunlight. A dull-gray, male wyrm shifted, loosing a giant huff of air. The ground shivered and, within the crystal chamber, Shard thought he heard cracking stone.
“Shard, I think it’s going to erupt. The air smells bad.” Hikaru looked around at the hulking beasts. “If they don’t wake, they’ll die.”
A low thrumming and a great wash of heat made Shard lift his talons. “We have to fly, Hikaru. We have to fly, now. They’ll wake at the commotion and they can leave through the tunnel.”
“The heat,” Hikaru mumbled, his gaze darting around the sleeping wyrms. “I think the heat lulls them.”
“Hikaru!” Shard snapped. All around, the great wyrms shifted, but, like the sick, drugged by herb or weariness, they did not wake. True reptiles, Shard thought, lulled by heat or cold. “Follow me.”
Shard lifted to his hind legs and leaped nimbly into the air, wings nearly as silent as an owl’s. A sense of freedom and joy shimmered from his heart to his wingtips to leave the ground, to push down the air and feel the stretch of feather and sinew. For a little time, he’d almost forgotten what it was to fly.
Hikaru bared his teeth in excitement and watched Shard rise, then crouched, opening his wings to fly for the first time.
Then the earth exploded.
A blast of air and noxious gas knocked Hikaru against the crystal wall.
“Don’t breathe!” Shard ordered, diving to land hard next to the dragon. Hikaru clamped his jaws shut, eyes huge. “Are you—”
“Not hurt,” Hikaru grunted, and flexed his wings.
Panicked, Shard looked past Hikaru into the crystal chamber. An second explosion of gas rocked Amaratsu’s form. Earthfire bubbled up from a widening crack in the ground inside the chamber. A rush of sulfur, air, and fire shot straight up and smashed against the crystal dragon.
The heat shattered Amaratsu’s body.
Twinkling scales and ice-sharp fragments shot in every direction and sent Shard and Hikaru rolling away. Shard grabbed at Hikaru’s legs, curving his wings to shield the dragon.
“Jump jump jump!” Shard lunged into the air, wings beating hard. Hikaru followed, liquid fire lashing at his heels. Lulled by heat, the wyrms slumbering on the ground shifted and growled but didn’t stir. Poisoned air rolled toward them. Where the crystal form had rested, now glowed a long crack of roiling lava. Shard gulped for the cleaner air above the wyrms. His wings, at first stretching and working with joy and relief, threatened to cramp. Hikaru bobbed beside him, staring at the mess below.
The crack in the earth engorged with fire and sulfur.
“Follow me!” Shard commanded. “Don’t panic.” He circled Hikaru once as the young dragon struggled first against the dead air of the cave, then the strange currents of heat created by the fire below. “Work your wings smoothly, pretend it’s a spring day—” Shard gagged against the noxious fumes of the earthfire. The hole of sunlight in the mountain seemed leagues and leagues away. With a glance over he saw that Hikaru was managing to figure out his wings and a good rhythm to undulate his long body, and looked as if he could swim through the air. “Don’t look down. Only the sky…”
“The sky,” Hikaru gasped, but he did look down, his gaze raking over the Winderost wyrms. Shard banked, turning a long arc to look down also, and a knot twisted his chest. Hikaru beat his wings hard, looking up to meet Shard’s gaze, and Shard knew they had the same thought. The wyrms couldn’t die like this. No creature deserved that.
“We’ll warn them,” he called to Hikaru, his voice pitched in attempt only to carry to the young dragon. “But let’s get a little higher—”
“Yes,” Hikaru agreed, and flapped up to follow Shard.
They were halfway to the top and escape and Shard glanced back again to see smoke pluming and fire splitting from the earth.
“Hikaru, now!” Shard loosed an eagle cry that echoed around the cavern and Hikaru dipped below Shard, and his deepening voice boomed.
“Cousins! Wake up! Wake up or die!”
A wyrm stirred, blinking up at them in confusion. Then a splattering of earthfire splashed his wings. His roar shook the cavern. He looked up
again, saw Shard and Hikaru, and screamed his rage. The others woke in a daze, panicked by the liquid fire around them, and lumbered to their feet. Enormous, leathery wings flared and flapped and the wyrms rose in a furious swarm.
“There,” Shard panted to Hikaru. “They’re awake. They’ve got a chance. Fly. Now.”
“Yes,” Hikaru gasped, and they turned together. The hole gleamed closer, a circle of sunlight.
Below, the writhing mass of wyrms split toward the tunnel halfway up the cave wall, and others, toward Shard, Hikaru, and the sunlight at the top of the cavern.
“Faster!” Shard shouted, as the wyrms with their powerful wings lunged higher, closing the deep gap.
Hikaru shrieked with the terror and thrill of it and shot up and ahead, wings pumping fast and deep like a swan.
Shard gave his wings a mighty stroke—but claws snapped shut around his tail and yanked him down. Long days and nights of fighting practice made him relax his body rather than struggle. He let himself fall with a battle scream onto the face of the dragon who’d grabbed him.
Hikaru wheeled in a circle. “Shard!”
“Fly!” Shard commanded, raking talons against the leathery paw that gripped him. A heavy, sour scent washed him. Then, odd familiarity. Shard’s gaze locked on the wyrm’s, then flicked down the length of her. Dark brown hide. A dead, baleful stare.
Stigr, cut down by a lashing spade tail.
“You,” Shard hissed. His feathers stood on end in fury and he sank every talon and hind claw and the razor edge of his beak into the stone-hard hide.
Her angry roar sang in Shard’s bones.
A wild, higher, musical shriek followed it. In a daze, overcome by the stench of death in the dragon’s jaws and the fumes from the earthfire below, Shard saw Hikaru diving.
“Release him!” Hikaru slammed into the wyrm’s shoulder, slashing his talons through the leather hide. Dark blood welled and dripped down toward the earthfire explosions below. Her grip loosened and Shard broke free, soaring up to gain height for a dive. The wyrm swung her freed claws around to lash at Hikaru. He yelped and flapped straight up, shooting quick as a salmon through water. Claws caught his hind leg, sending a few black scales sprinkling down like rain, but he jerked free.