Shatterwing: Dragon Wine 1

by Donna Maree Hanson

  On the third trip back to her camp to make some more spray, Brill followed her again, not bothering to pick up his chain. While she prepared another batch, he stood around and kicked at the ground. Salinda ignored him while she tested the pump. He hesitated before going to the barrow and playing with the ladle. She edged round and saw him dribble the dragon urine onto his leg irons. Minute splashes burned his skin, making him flinch, but the weld in the irons bubbled and hissed. With a wrench the manacles fell apart. He set to work on the iron around his wrist.

  Coming up behind him she said, “What are you doing?”

  He spun round, his iron chains dropping to the ground with a dull thud. “Getting out of here.” He shook his head, staring at the barrow. “I can’t believe the means to escape was right in front of me. Did it ever occur to you?”

  “Yes. I know the urine dissolves metal, hence the special implements. There isn’t much point if one can’t escape from this place. The chains symbolize imprisonment. It is the dragons and the treacherous geothermal areas that keep the vineyard a prison. Why escape? The world is the same as it always was. One tyrant replaces another.”

  “I will make it different, Salinda.” He had a wide smile on his bruised face and something akin to hope shone out of his eyes.

  His words made her heart flutter. She wanted to believe he could change the world, but he was a young, ignorant boy with good intentions. It was her duty to stay here and grow grapes. Mez had never mentioned leaving. The cadre warmed inside of her and she tried to interpret its foreign emotions and tangle of thoughts. She recognized Mez’s presence as it surged forward from the white noise of the others. Remember Danton. She sucked in a breath. “Danton?”

  Brill gave her an odd look, but then clapped her on the shoulder and her gaze swung to him. “Thank you for all you have done for me … I cannot stay.” He looked away and halted. Then once again he turned his eager expression toward her. “Come with me and we will fight for freedom together.”

  For the first time in an age she felt tempted by the hopeful, excited gleam in his eye. But she shook her head. “Are you sure you would rather die than stay here?”

  “I’d rather live out there and fight, and be master of my own destiny. If I die attempting to do that then so be it.”

  Her heart began to race. Should she help him? Did she dare? The cadre’s warmth infused her. Chewing her bottom lip, she wavered, and then she knew what she had to do. “Very well … I will help you.” She pointed in the direction of the Fire Ranges. “There is only one way out of here.”

  He glanced behind him to see the mountains ringed in red-tinged smoke. “The cistern where the dragons feed?”

  “No, but not far from there. Closer to the dragon hatcheries. I have friends in the foothills on the far side of the ranges. I may be able to get you there.”

  Salinda dropped her tools and went into the hut. She returned with a small cask which she wrapped in a cloth and a pouch of dried vine leaves which she tied together. Her movements were careful but brisk. Brill blinked and stepped back when she stood and turned toward him. She drew on a little of the cadre’s power and let it flow over her. “Follow me. This is the only way,” she said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” She knew she couldn’t say how she would help him escape as he would probably balk. Best if he didn’t know.

  Brill’s mouth hung open as he nodded. He was staring at her. “What is happening? Your eyes are glowing …” he whispered.

  “Are they? Oh dear,” she said mildly, closing her eyes before opening then again. She tried to control the power emanating from the cadre. It was imperative that it remained hidden. “Can you still see the glow?”

  “No, but …” Brill’s eyes were wild with alarm.

  “I’ll explain later,” she said, trying to sound reassuring.

  By the time they reached the edge of the vineyard, the sun was easing behind the ranges and the plain was a pale pink. Salinda edged around the border of the vineyard below the lower spoke, flitting from vine row to vine row, cradling the cask. Then, making sure they weren’t being followed, she scrambled across a stretch of plain into a tumble of rocks below the ridge that marked the border of the dragon hatcheries.

  Panting, Brill came up behind her to stare in awe. “So close to the dragons. I can smell them.”

  Silently, she placed the small cask of wine on a rock near where he stood. In among the shelter of the boulders, she stretched out her arms while facing the plains. “Yes, it’s a good place to summon one.”

  “What?” Brill was backing away from her now, his gaze darting all around him.

  Reverently, she raised her head skyward and called out in dragon tongue. Mez had taught her the language not long after she arrived at the vineyard. The words thrilled her, rippling across her skin as they had a strength of their own. With a little help from the cadre, she propelled them out into the land around her. Then she heard it—the answering beat of wings.

  “Dragon!” Brill yelped, wedging himself in between some boulders to hide. From above, with the sunset glistening off his scales, came her young dragon. She smiled at the memory that arose. When her chains had come off she had tried to escape the prison, and Mez had chased her. When she’d climbed up the rock face of the hatchery, she’d found the dragon’s newly hatching egg. That had signaled a change in her relationship with Mez, and in how she viewed the world.

  The creature settled on the ground, disturbing rock fragments as he ambled in Salinda’s direction, with his dark purple head arrowing back and forth. Salinda sensed the power of the young dragon, like the sea’s tide flowing into her. He’d grown a little since the last time she’d seen him, a few dark purple scales added to his neck column.

  Plu lowered his head to Salinda’s height and she caressed his snout. The dragon hissed and closed an eye. Brill climbed out from between the boulders, his legs unsteady. “I don’t believe this,” he said, his voice quavering. The dragon’s eye opened and regarded him.

  With her hand still on the dragon’s snout, she called to Brill. “This is Te Nuan Pluresh. I call him Plu. I found him as a hatchling. You can trust him.” She reached inside the dragon’s mouth and rubbed his tongue, which lolled over his fangs. The beast’s body undulated, its tail scratching sand and crushing rocks as it did so. “He likes it if you stroke his tongue. When he flies you over the ranges you must thank him this way.”

  Brill’s eyes looked as if they would pop from his head. The dragon, Plu, lifted a wing, sending dust raining down on Brill. He stepped back, brushing the dirt from his clothes.

  “Dragons kill,” he said, shaking his head, his eyes wide as she petted the young dragon. “How did you tame a dragon?”

  A smile curled her lips. “Yes, they usually kill. I raised Plu with Mez’s help. It wasn’t easy, but out on the rim we’re left mostly alone, and we could hide Plu when he was young. Mez was able to sneak food to him. Then when he was large enough we reintroduced him to the hatchery.” Salinda swallowed, remembering how terrified they had been. “He’s remembered me ever since and understands the voice shapes I make.”

  “Voice shapes?”

  “Yes.” She frowned as she tried to think of an explanation. It had made sense when Mez explained it to her. “The dragon tongue is more about the word shaping the thought so that dragons, well actually just Plu, can understand. It’s not like our language at all. For me he will resist the urge to eat human flesh. He alone answers my call, and it is my call alone he will answer.”

  Brill gaped at her. “So you think the dragon is telepathic?”

  Salinda cocked her head to the side. “Thought-to-thought? I have never thought of it that way. And the opportunity to test that is rather limited. I haven’t seen Plu in the flesh since well before Mez died.”

  Then, in a heartbeat, she saw Brill’s expression change, saw the calculation, the rethinking of all that had passed between them and the knowledge of her pow
er. “You must come with me,” he said in a voice that was rough with emotion.

  Salinda detected a surge in the heat of the cadre, which she interpreted as urging. It wanted to leave. That thought rocked her. In spite of everything she thought she believed, it was time to leave, to go back out there into the world. Her hands trembled. “I will …” The urgency the cadre pressed upon her filled her with anxiety. “But I can’t come with you now. You must go first, as I’m not sure Plu can carry us both so far. It could be dangerous for him and for us.”

  “But you don’t know that?”

  Panic sent her heart racing. “I only know of one person being taken so far. I’ve never ridden myself at all. My duty was to remain here with Mez. Please, you must go alone, but Plu will come back for me.”

  Brill gaze at her with eyes brimming with tears. “I hate to leave you behind.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.” She did a mental calculation of the time that would pass before Brill’s return. There were a few things that were risky for her but she didn’t want Brill to worry. “When he delivers you to the foothills he will come back for me. I will come here tomorrow evening and wait for him.” Reaching down, she scooped up the small cask and passed it to him. “This is dragon wine of the purest blend. Give it to Danton.”

  “Danton? A friend of yours? Did you help him escape, too?”

  She nodded and then realized Brill had a stunned expression on his face. She had shocked him. She patted his shoulder.

  “Mez did mostly, but I helped. He was like you. Too full of fight to see what was around him, and the Inspector took an unhealthy interest in him. When you see Danton tell him I send my love and will see him soon.”

  Brill gaped at Plu and swallowed. “How do I do it? I didn’t know you could.”

  Salinda shrugged. “I don’t know. When Danton left, he sat there and held some of the loose skin between the shoulder blades.” Brill looked where she pointed. “I’ll be here at sunset waiting for him. I will see you soon.” She didn’t want to instruct Plu to come back to her at that time as she thought it might only confuse him. She would call him, hoping that he had returned from the Fire Ranges.

  Brill’s hands shook. He would have no choice but to overcome his fear of the beast. Plu was tame, after all.

  He clasped her forearm and squeezed. “I look forward to seeing you again. Stay safe. You won’t regret this.” He took a step toward Plu then paused, looking back at her. “I don’t understand. What is this power you possess?”

  Salinda took a deep breath. She had never told anyone about the cadre, but something told her it was important to tell Brill now. “Within me, young prince, are those who have gone before. For many, many years the essence and memories of great people have been passed on to the next generation by way of something we call a cadre, which also serves as a store of knowledge and power. Mez carried this cadre before me. When he died he gifted it to me. The cadre can only be passed from one living being to another. I trained long and hard to prepare for his gift. However, I am still new to it. For me it is fickle. My own doubt undermines my skill.”

  “I don’t understand, but yet I saw—”

  “Yes, I drew too much power.” Salinda glanced back toward the vines. “We cannot risk waiting any longer. You must go.”

  With a final nod at her, she heard him suck in a breath and clutch the cask tighter before striding unflinchingly toward Plu. The young dragon’s eye tracked him as he approached, yet it stayed perfectly still, just as she had asked him to. Using one hand to aid him, Brill gave the dragon a final once-over before he climbed onto its back at the juncture of the neck and shoulder and secured his seat by grabbing a fold of skin.

  Salinda stroked Plu’s nose and whispered instructions to him to take care of the boy, to take him to the foothills, to Danton, and then she stepped back.

  “Go now, Plu.” The young dragon drew down its wings, flapping faster and faster, scrambling across the rocks to gain further lift. As he rose, the last rays of the sun dipped below the horizon, darkening his scales to blood red and then to black. Brill, too, became enveloped in the dark velvet of night and disappeared from view.

  Salinda sighed and hoped she could hide Brill’s escape until she could leave herself. Climbing out of the circle of rocks, she angled toward the darkened line of a vine row. With her head down, she increased her pace, anxious to return to her home site and distance herself from Brill’s point of departure.

  A noise, the sound of a muffled footstep or a hastily in-drawn breath, caused a hitch in her stride. A prickle of alarm sped up her spine. With her heartbeat thumping in her ears, she stood absolutely still, holding her breath so she could listen. Was there someone nearby?

  Slowly and quietly she turned full circle, her senses keen as she listened and searched. Her instincts warned her that she was being watched, though she saw no one. Praise the source that she had hidden her power and tempered the glow in her eyes. Even here she could be burned as a witch if some zealot was vocal enough.

  In the distance a dragon cry echoed mournfully across the plain. The wind shook the vines like a child’s rattle. The corrugated shapes of vine rows paraded around her and on the ground darker shadows spread as the strengthening moonlight filtered through the leaves. She waited until her heart slowed, until all the usual sounds of the night were in their proper place. Her breathing was light as she held herself still. The sound she’d heard was not repeated. Yet she was sure someone had seen.

  CHAPTER SIX

  A Rebel’s Lair

  The dragon’s muscular body tensed beneath Brill as it launched into the air. With one hand he gripped a fold of loose skin and the other clutched the cask of dragon wine, which would serve as well as coin if the rebel Danton wasn’t at his destination.

  Brill peered ahead, bracing himself alongside Plu’s neck. In the distance, he could see the dark outline of the Fire Ranges cloaked in a blood-red sunset. As their speed increased, the wind made his eyes water and he had to turn his head to the side to catch his breath.

  After traveling for a half hour or so a loud roar ripped through the air behind them, so deep and booming his heart lurched painfully. Startled, he nearly lost his hold and his cask of dragon wine. Clinging with his legs, he carefully peered over his shoulder and tried to ignore how he trembled. Silhouetted against rising Belle moon’s light, a huge dragon flew in tandem with Plu. It was three times the size of the young Plu. Its wings were long with ragged tears and holes in the softer membrane. It called again, and this time Brill felt Plu’s body undulate beneath him as he bleated an answering call.

  Then Plu plummeted, and the rushing wind captured Brill’s shocked yell. Plu eased out of the dive to glide over ragged foothills bathed in light and shadow, then he entered a pass lit by the rays of a near full Belle moon. The pass was narrower than Brill had first thought, and was littered with jagged outcrops of rock. Plu dodged them all in one long sinuous movement. The other dragon did not follow.

  Below, Brill caught the orange glow of cooling lava and the stench of rotting eggs. The landscape changed abruptly as they exited the pass on the other side of the ranges. Where the moon’s glow pierced the darkness, he could make out some vegetation on a ground riddled with cracks and crevasses and deep, dark clefts, perhaps disguising valleys. As cloud briefly obscured Belle moon, Plu gave a plaintive cry. Brill looked anxiously around them. Then, in the blackness ahead, he thought he could make out small lights on the ground. He hoped they were nearing their destination.

  Plu drew down his wings in long, deep movements, to slow their pace and gently lose altitude. The young dragon’s neck rose up, and Brill clung tighter as Plu descended with his claws extended. Ever so slowly, the beast touched the earth, the downbeat of the wings perfectly timed. Brill climbed down, stretching his stiff muscles, but feeling exhilarated. He had just ridden a dragon. By the source! He’d never thought he would do such a thing. His heart slowed its heavy beating and he calmly and tentatively approac
hed Plu’s face. Quietly, he called out the dragon’s name and stroked his tongue as Salinda had instructed. It was slimy, and the breath wafting from the mouth nearly made him gag. “Go back for Salinda, Plu. Hurry!”

  In the moonlight he saw that Plu arrowed his head in a parody of a bow and beat his wings. Brill stepped further back, shielding his eyes from the wind-blown dust as Plu loped along and then rose up slowly, beating his wings powerfully to give him lift. The darkness swallowed all trace of the young dragon while Brill stood motionless and watched. Then he took in his surroundings. He couldn’t see much of anything except a few looming shapes that he took to be shrubs. Kicking with his feet, he could tell that the ground was rocky and not very inviting. He waited, listening for voices or the sound of footsteps in case anyone was on watch or had noticed his arrival.

  The silence was eerie. There were not even the sounds of wildlife. He felt truly alone. Clouds rolled in to dim the light from Belle moon. In the sky, the violet jewels comprising Shatterwing sparkled momentarily while the moon was overshadowed. Northward, he saw a meteor plummet and burn in the atmosphere.

  “One less rock to fall,” he said like a prayer.

  He found a boulder to lean against and placed the wine next to him in the dirt. Sleep was what he needed. Later, he would seek out the rebel lair and find this Danton, if he was still alive. It was quiet. No animal cries, no wind in the trees … nothing. The sound of rock hitting rock reached him, startling him out of a doze. When it didn’t recur, he relaxed again, letting his heartbeat slow and his eyes close as fatigue won out.

  *

  Near dawn, Brill launched himself out of sleep as if propelled. It wasn’t the dream—a reliving of his capture combined with vivid flashbacks of the Inspector’s abuse. He heard voices: one close to his ear, one far away. He was on his feet in a second, crouched down, head angling from side to side to take in his situation. He noticed too late that the wine was gone. He patted the top of his shirt—gone too were the vine leaves, which had been tucked away safely. Whispering surrounded him, the pisha pisha sound of light voices on the breeze.