by Audrey Faye
The chaos instantly dimmed as dragons formed themselves into a huge circle in the sky. Afran joined the ring, leaving just the two of them in the center.
Fendellen snorted, pivoting slowly. ::If you were looking to impress my kin with your flying prowess, that was rather poorly done.::
Even while flying, tails somehow drooped.
Fendellen looked pointedly at Jae. ::She will now demonstrate that trick again.::
Jae stared. She wasn’t quite sure which one had caused all the chaos.
::The one where you flipped head over tail, youngling.:: Afran sounded amused. ::It is perhaps trickier when you have a tail.::
::Says the dragon who managed it better than any of the others.:: Fendellen snorted gently at Jae. ::Go ahead. They can likely manage to watch without flying into each other.::
Jae shook her head. As lessons went, this one was clearly a disaster.
::It’s nothing of the sort.:: The ice-blue dragon flicked a wing. ::Go on. We’re going to master this, and then Kis might be truly impressed by what he sees in the sky.::
There were shadows under Fendellen’s words. She worried about the old dragon.
Jae squared her shoulders. She would do what she could to ease Kis’s pain. She angled her wings and flapped enough to lift herself a short way. Then, as slowly as she could, she tucked and rotated into the beginning of a dive she never let get underway.
Fendellen studied every feather intently. ::Again. A little faster this time.::
Jae climbed a little higher and repeated it, this time shooting out right under an ice-blue tail. ::It’s easier if you go faster.::
::It’s easier if you go faster and do the right things,:: Fendellen said dryly. She flicked a wing again. ::Go over by Afran. I don’t want to knock you out of the sky with a wild tail.::
Jae scooted out of the way as the ice-blue dragon’s intentions became clear. And stared as Fendellen’s first roll was a tumble of wings and tail and an exit that shot straight toward a group of dragons who hastily scooted out of the way.
Then Fendellen gathered herself, turned around, and faced Jae expectantly.
::She awaits your suggestions.:: Afran hovered behind her as easily as a hummingbird. ::For how she can improve.::
Jae wasn’t sure she had any that would work for a dragon. ::It’s easier if you’re falling. Then you can feel the pull of the ground.::
::Ah.:: Fendellen flapped hard straight up into the sky. Then she tucked in her wings just as Jae had done at the top of the tunnel.
Jae held her breath as ice-blue limbs and scales tucked and rolled, but this time, Fendellen flipped neatly and came out in a dive pointed straight at the ground. One she zoomed out of with a blast of fire that echoed the glee Jae could feel in her head.
::That is the bond between you.::
Jae heard the huge dragon’s words, and somehow, here up in the sky, knew them to be true in a way that didn’t make sense on the ground.
::Much easier at speed.:: Fendellen pulled up sharply in front of them, eyes gleaming. Then she spun around to face the rest of the dragons.
Jae winced as she imagined dozens of dragons all hurtling toward the ground at the same time. She skimmed forward to Fendellen’s shoulder. ::Perhaps we can do a circle. Or hills and valleys.:: She moved her hand to show what she meant.
::The youngling is wise.:: Afran turned his head toward the sun. ::And it will move us toward the village.::
Fendellen flew forward, and like a well-organized herd of goats, the dragons fell in line behind her. The ice-blue dragon nodded to the empty skies in front of her. ::Lead us, sweet one. You tumble, and we will follow.::
Jae was sure her rightful place was anywhere but at the front of the line, but perhaps she would be safest there. She sailed into the lead, wings wide and gleaming in the sun and pride ballooning in her heart.
And then she pointed her nose at the horizon and flew. Up imaginary hills and down, tumble-rolling on the downhills and zooming back up them, whooping as loudly as she wanted because one human couldn’t possibly be heard over the cacophony of dragons behind her.
On the third hill, she remembered she was not a child ice-sliding in the sky, but a teacher, and she changed the roll to a twist. Lotus barrel rolled through the village easily enough. Perhaps that one would be easier for dragons.
The next hill, she stretched out her wings and did a graceful swan dive toward the snow, one that ended in a snap of wings and a very sharp change of direction.
::Those will do nicely.:: Afran’s calm approval sounded in her head. ::By the time we reach the village, each dragon will have mastered at least one of those. The one right behind you needs another hill or two to have all three.::
Jae beamed into the weak winter sun. Her dragon was a magnificent flier.
A long, quiet pause. And then, through the bond between them, sheer happiness. ::That’s the first time you have called me your dragon.::
Jae nodded slowly, even though Fendellen couldn’t see. And tried to feel worthy.
::This isn’t something you earn.:: Afran again, gentle and steady and wise. ::But I think maybe you have nonetheless. She follows very few.::
Jae’s wings spluttered. ::She put me up front to keep me safe.::
::No, youngling. She put you up front so you can shine as you’re meant to.::
Cold fingers of denial tightened around Jae’s heart—and then the bond inside her pulsed, warm and fierce, and pushed the cold back.
Jae tumbled down another imaginary hill in the sky.
And shone.
Chapter 14
Jae hugged the precious piece of paper to her chest, and the even more precious sachets of herbs that had come with it. Gran had also sent a jar of the oil she used when Jae’s feather shafts got dry and brittle in the winter.
Gifts that said as much as the words that came with them.
The letter was written in Mellie’s hand. Gran had grown up long before schooling and teachers had come to the high mountains, and she always said that she wrote what she needed to remember right inside her own head. So the careful script was Mellie’s—Gran’s only apprentice now—but the sentiments were all those of the old woman who had taken Jae in and raised her.
To my Jae. The man with the boots too thin for a mountain winter tells me you have arrived safely in a village of dragons and those who care for them. I cannot say whether such a thing is real or not, but he assures me he is not a demon, and he gave me the letter and the dried wintergreen you sent. I don’t know where you found such treasure in mid-winter, but my hands thank you. I will make a fever oil for the babies with it.
The man also tried to give me coins, but what use do I have for such things here? I have sent them back with him, in case they might aid in your care and keeping, even though I know that will not be necessary. You are a hard worker, and he assured me they are in need of healing skills.
I have sent your warm winter cloak, and a few of the medicines every healer needs. The man assures me you will come visit in spring to pick up more.
Stay safe, daughter of my hands. I would see you again.
Jae knew what the last words said, but she could no longer see them. Tears pricked her eyes, as they had every time she read them. The young dragon kin who had delivered the message had been shivering with cold, and she had not begged him for more news from her village. That could wait until he ate some stew and slept. His journey must have been long and cold, even by dragon flight.
She stroked a finger over the sachets. Chamomile and swampcress and the dark purple berries that made the best syrup for winter coughs. Love, in the way Gran knew best how to say it.
Jae sniffled. She would collect more wintergreen. It grew here, even in the cold. Alonia had shown her where to find a patch, and Inga had let her use a corner of the kitchen to dry it. She had sent a feather, too, one with pretty beads threaded in. Gran would know what it meant.
Here, she did not need to hide.
She cuddled
deeper into the straw in the corner of the nursery and wrapped herself a little tighter in the cloak that smelled of home. The babies hadn’t stirred when she’d come in to watch over them, and neither had the great yellow dragon, but she had no doubts that Kis was aware of her presence.
She’d needed somewhere safe and warm to think, and her rondo was too big and empty. It hadn’t felt quite so big when she’d napped against Fendellen’s chest before dinner, but her dragon had gone off to the caves to speak to the queen and left an echoing chamber behind her. To someone used to a small hut in the mountains full of medicines and baskets and often cranky patients, it had been the wrong place to think. And Jae needed, so very much, to do some thinking.
These last days had been a storm. A wonderful one, full of acceptance and lifting winds and new friends. But still a storm, and her body ached with the efforts of tumbling down sky hills and walking through a village with her wings out for all to see.
Gran always said that once a storm was done, the calm was a good time to gather the medicines you would need for the next one. Jae didn’t need medicines, but she needed to take the experiences and feelings in her belly and let them steep to see what came out in the brew.
Part of what she needed was the settling of a good dose of chamomile. There had been kindness and joy and exhilaration and easy acceptance in these days, and they had tossed her about like the winds in a high mountain pass. Or like the sights and sounds at a festival market, so big and brash and overwhelming.
She had flown in the sky with bugling dragons. Even Gran would deem that worthy of a stiff cup of chamomile tea.
She smiled as one of the baby dragons snuffled in sleep and cuddled in closer to her companions. Three born knowing they were accepted and loved. They would never feel the bone-deep doubt that came from being left on a mountainside to die. None of Gran’s teas had ever been able to make that go away, or treat the creeping poison that had snuck in a little further every time Jae bound her wings and hid them under her cloak.
She let the tears fall. Let herself truly feel the weight of those bindings now that she could finally let them go.
She hadn’t known how heavy they were.
Her feathers wrapped around her, light and soft and bearing witness to the joy of flying in the light even while she huddled in the warm dark. When she had led the line of dragons over the village, Fendellen on her heels, she had felt like a queen. There had been so many people standing between the rondos, all waving and smiling and pointing at the fliers in the sky.
Her new friends had waved the most wildly of all.
Then Fendellen had whispered into her head, and she had led a tumbling, twisting, swan-diving line of dragons right over the big rondo where Kis lived. The huge yellow dragon had stood solemnly and watched them, and if he felt pain and longing, it hadn’t shown.
All she had felt was his pride.
For her, and for the ice-blue dragon on her heels.
Which was part of what she needed to add to her stew of thoughts and feelings, because more was going on here than she understood. The careful looks that had nothing to do with her wings. The way the dragons deferred to Fendellen when it was very clear they were a pack of unruly children the rest of the time. The part of her that suspected the last two days were not accidental, but instead a lesson, carefully planned and even more carefully delivered.
A welcome for her, most surely. But it felt like something else, too. A readying.
Jae exhaled quietly into the dim as the ingredients of her brew steeped themselves into a well-mixed tea. To be kin to a dragon could not possibly be a small thing. It must come with responsibilities, just like those of a healer’s apprentice, but she didn’t know her job in this new world. Or what medicines she might need to have on hand to tend to her new life’s bumps and bruises.
She nodded, her path decided. This was a fine first tea, but she needed more ingredients to make the next. More understanding. More information.
This village didn’t have a healer, and the resident storyteller was a dragon, so her usual ways to gather what she needed wouldn’t work here. Alonia knew something, and maybe Kellan too, but tricking a friend into speaking out of turn wasn’t nice, and those two had been nothing but kind.
She would have to do as Gran taught her on their first gathering trips in the high mountains. Watch. Take small bites. Listen to the secrets in the wind.
She folded the precious letter in her lap carefully. It had taken great effort to deliver it to her hands, and she would treasure it and not let too many tears fall to blur the words. Instead, she would begin collecting medicines for spring. Fendellen had nuzzled her cheek right before she headed for the caves, and promised they would fly north as soon as the snows melted.
Jae swallowed. She would not be able to take her dragon to her village, and that was a sadness that added bitterness to her tea. But her mountains would welcome the ice-blue dragon, and her winds would play with the two of them in the skies, and she would find a way to let Fendellen and Gran look into each other’s eyes.
She would honor her old life when the spring melts came. Until then, she would learn what she could of the new one. Including the parts that were tucked out of easy view. Healers knew that was often where the most precious medicines grew.
And sometimes where the harshest dangers lurked.
But she was a child of the mountains, and a hard worker to boot, and she would not shirk away from what had chosen her. Not when it came with so much light. She smiled and snuggled down a little deeper into her cloak—and caught sight of a large golden eye watching her in the dark.
Awake and serene and maybe even approving.
Interlude
Lovissa shook her head as yet another dragon zoomed through the valley, tumbling and turning and narrowly avoiding rocks and trees, to say nothing of the assembled audience. The previous two fliers had not been so lucky. They were currently nursing bumps and bruises by the healing fire Baret had hastily set up out of the way of the chaos.
As well she might have. Many of the tumbling dragons were her charges.
Led by one tiny, mighty purple-gray dragon who would one day be queen.
Baraken landed on the cliff’s edge beside her. ::Quira says she learned this in dream.::
And he was a wise enough warrior to understand the implications of that. ::There is a fourth who has been marked by the Dragon Star. Not an elf this time. A human. With wings.::
Her steadiest warrior startled beside her.
::Her dragon has not yet told her of the star’s choosing.::
A long pause. ::Is that wise?::
Lovissa sighed. It was a good question, and one with no easy answer. ::The flying human is kin to Fendellen.:: Baraken had great respect for the ice-blue dragon who would come.
His great head nodded slowly. ::She is young, but she does not make decisions rashly.::
He might change his mind about that shortly. ::It is her flying kin who is teaching this tumbling to the dragons Quira sees in her dreams.::
His snort of surprise billowed out into the chill air. ::She is a flier of some skill, then.::
If dream told true. ::She flies as the eagles do, and the hawks. And with the joy of a hatchling who has just discovered her wings.:: It was both difficult to watch and utterly captivating.
Baraken winced as yet another dragon tried the head-to-tail roll and landed himself in a much-mangled tree. ::So Quira flies as the kin of Fendellen flies.::
It was an apt comparison. And one with weight she had not yet fully thought through. ::Of the dragons who will come, there are only two who can match our Quira.:: A point of pride for Lovissa—and one that suddenly tickled her sense of humor. ::One is Fendellen. The other is Afran.:: The enormous gray dragon of Baraken’s line.
The warrior beside her stiffened. He knew a challenge when he heard one.
Lovissa watched, regal and amused, as Quira zoomed through the valley again, flipping and twisting and putting all the much l
arger dragons to shame. The littles were learning these tricks far faster than those fully grown—perhaps because they did not yet understand just how difficult such maneuvers should be.
Or because the grown dragons weren’t wise enough to study the lithely tumbling littles.
The dragon beside her did not make that mistake. His eyes tracked Quira as she rolled and zoomed in the sky.
Good queens rewarded diligence. ::The human winged one says the roll is easiest while falling. It helps to feel the pull of the earth in the turning.::
Amusement flashed in Baraken’s eyes. ::Does the human winged one have any idea how much damage an overly fast dragon landing can cause?::
::No. She is a creature of much innocence.::
Baraken shot her a sharp look. ::Bonded to one who will be queen?::
They had come so very far that he could tolerate the idea of a kin-bonded dragon at all. For her, that acceptance came slowly, one dream fragment at a time. For him, perhaps it came one broken dragonkiller arrow at a time. ::The star has chosen. It is not for me to question.:: That would not be enough for her finest warrior, but it was the only answer the dreams had given.
She did, however, have something to give him that he would cherish. ::The dragons to come have three new hatchlings. They have been gifted with a special one.::
His eyes softened. The last special one of this Veld, so ancient she could no longer make fire, had stood over him as he hatched. ::This new one—she has guardians?::
That was the part she offered to him as treasure. ::Yes. Two. A dark purple hatchling who has already found her wings. And a warrior.:: She turned and looked straight into Baraken’s eyes. ::His scales match your own.::
His breath caught.
She nodded, formal and regal, acknowledging the service of his line across time. ::One who comes from you. He does you honor.::
Her warrior straightened, strengthened by her words, as she had intended. A queen’s gifts were not given lightly, and they were never simple.
She had just given the dragon she faced yet another reason to sustain the peace—and to fight fiercely and well if it failed.