“I don’t know,” hissed Dagg. “It comes from lightning, or maybe the sun.”
Tek had paused a moment in her song.
“Hot,” murmured Jan, “so the ballads say. It dances and darts.” He had heard of fire every now and again, in story and song. Fire dwelled in dragons’ mouths. This or that hero was color-of-fire. But Jan had never seen any, and no unicorn he knew had ever seen any. “What is it, I wonder. Is it alive?”
“Be still now,” Dagg insisted. “I want to listen.”
Above them on the rise, under the moon, Tek had changed her stance again, turned just a little. Such was the singing of the unicorns. Jan knew that by the time the tale was done, she would have turned full Circle and taken in the whole Ring of listeners.
“Halla the princess stood at the wellside, when of a sudden she glimpsed movement across the water, some creature emerging from the green, cool woods bordering the Mere. It was a pale thing, like a great snake or a salamander, and came sliding out of the forest, lean and wrinkled as a dying toad. Watching, she saw it dip its long neck to the water to drink.
“‘Stop,’ Halla cried, before its narrow snout could touch the surface and disturb the stillness of that hallowed pool.
“The creature looked up across the water with its clear, uncolored eyes. It seemed unable to see her well.
“‘This is a sacred place,’ Halla informed it. ‘Only we, the children-of-the-moon, may drink here.’
“Then the thing flicked its thin, forked tongue very fast between its needle teeth, as in anger. But in a moment, eyeing the dawn-colored princess of the unicorns, it grew softer, seeming to reconsider. It spoke to her in a strange sliding voice that hissed and lilted, hollow and velvety sharp. ‘Oh, please, a drink. One drink. I perish.’
“‘Not of this lake,’ the king’s daughter replied. ‘But if you thirst, I will tell you where lies another pool whereof you may drink.’”
Again Tek turned away from him and Dagg, more toward the side as she gazed over the Circle.
“And at those words,” the healer’s daughter sang, “at Halla’s words, the creature at the wellside crumpled, seeming too weak to rise. So Halla walked along the curve of the shore until she came to it and bade it follow. It roused itself with difficulty and came slithering alongside her downslope through the woods.
“She studied it as they went, long and pale as a fish’s belly, cold-looking like ice. It seemed smaller in body than a unicorn, with a long, scaled tail that had a sting-barb at its end. It kept two stubby forelegs folded against its body as it slithered. High on its neck, behind the head, a ruff of gills fanned and gaped when it opened its mouth. Its teeth were long, back-curving fangs.
“‘What are you?’ Halla asked it.
“‘Oh, please,’ it panted. ‘Water first. A little water.’
“They reached the second pool. Near the top of a fall of stone shelves, a little spring welled and cascaded forming a pool at the base of the rocks. As soon as the pale creature saw this, it darted past Halla quick as a grass-flick and dropped its long neck to the water, lapping at it and laving it over its head.
“And as it drank, it seemed to grow, its withered sides swelling like a toad that is fat with poison. Then it slipped into the water and writhed about, bathing and whining a high, thin pleasure-song—until it caught sight of Halla on the bank and crept out of the pool, cringing again.
“‘You must forgive me,’ it moaned. ‘It has been months since I last tasted water.’ It was now nearly twice the size it had been before.
“‘What are you?’ Halla asked again.
“‘I?’ it said, in its strange, sliding voice, preening its wet, gleaming skin. ‘I am Lynex, and a wyvern.’”
Jan listened to the singer’s voice, clear and dusky under the smoke moonlight. The wyverns were a noxious breed, sprung from the stink of quagmires at the beginning of the world. That was why the unicorns had come to call them ‘wyrms’: slithery, slippery things. Tek sang:
“But just at that moment, as he was speaking, the wyrm caught sight of the caves and rock shelves beyond the pool, spreading away to the southeast. Streams threaded across those rocks, welling and falling, pale as cloud. And seeing these, the wyvern gave out little sharp barks of glee, sliding here and there over the shelves, muttering.
“‘Ah, but these are just the thing. They would suit perfectly! Not as vast as the dens we left, but we could dig more at need. Perhaps. . . .’ Then he turned on the princess of the unicorns, demanding, ‘Who dwells here?’
“‘No one,’ replied Halla, mildly.
“‘Ah.’ The wyvern sat, considering.
“‘But these lands fall within our territory,’ the princess said, ‘the unicorns’.’
“The creature glanced at her. ‘Quite so,’ it answered, more softly now. ‘Quite so. I . . . we . . . that is, my people. . . .’
“‘Your people?’ Halla inquired.
“‘There are more—a very few. A very few more of us. We have been lost, wandering across the Plain. We wish to settle.’
“‘You seek the unicorns’ leave to settle here?’
“The wyvern bowed stiffly down to the dust. ‘You would know our gratitude.’
“‘I have not the right either to grant you or to turn you away,’ Halla replied. ‘My father Jared is king. Tell your leaders to assemble here tomorrow. Bathe and drink. I will bid the elders of the unicorns come to you. Then we will decide.’
“So Halla left the wyrm beside the shelves and pools, and sprang off through the milkwood trees, traversing meadow and dale and grove to gather the unicorns to come parley with the wyrms.”
Tek fell silent in her singing, bowing her head. She changed her stance again, turning more and more away from Jan, taking in others of the Circle. He was aware of Dagg beside him in the dark.
“I wonder . . .” he began, but his friend’s sigh cut him short.
“That’s your trouble,” Dagg whispered. “You’re always wondering. Now quiet. She’s starting the second cant.”
Tek lifted her head. “And next day beside the shelves and pools, parley was held between the sinuous leader of the wyverns and Jared the old king, with Halla his daughter and Zod the singer and a great many others, both wyverns and unicorns, present as well.
“‘How many have you in your band?’ inquired Jared of the wyrms.
“‘Not many,’ Lynex replied, hollow-voiced and sliding. ‘Only a very few. Not nearly enough to fill these burrows.’
“‘He is lying,’ murmured Halla between her teeth, close to her father’s ear. ‘I sent scouts to spy them out. They reported more than just a few. Yet most, they said, were torpid, near death. They look a livelier lot this day. Well-watered.’
“‘We do not wish to intrude,’ the wyvern leader continued, ‘only leave to stay here a little and rest from our arduous journey. ’
“‘When first you spoke with me,’ said Halla, stepping forward, ‘you said you desired to settle.’
“‘Only for a season or two,’ Lynex replied, ‘to breed. We must have hatching grounds to brood our eggs.’
“‘Well enough,’ said Jared, seemingly very little intent upon the parley. He had slept but fitfully the night before, strange troubles sliding through his dreams, and he was old, grown old before his time—sometimes his mind wandered; no one could say why.
“‘I see a wyvern breeding in a unicorn’s belly,’ said Zod then softly, an evening-blue unicorn all spattered with milk, ‘eating up the children that were there.’
“But the princess ignored his words, for he spoke but softly, near her ear. Zod was a seer of visions and a dreamer of dreams, and often spoke riddles that meant nothing.
“‘How long will it take your eggs to hatch, and how long thereafter before your young may travel?’ said Halla to the wyrm.
“‘Not long,’ said Lynex, preening his supple skin with a thin, forked tongue.
“‘Well enough,’ the king replied.
“‘Not well
enough,’ the princess cried. ‘How long?’
“‘Oh, a season,’ said Lynex, smiling. ‘No more than that. Our young thrive fast.’
“‘How many eggs do your kind lay in a clutch?’
“‘Oh, two—three?’ the wyrm replied, as if he did not know. As if he were asking her.
“‘No snake I know lays so few little death-beads at one squat,’ muttered Zod the singer, more loudly.
“‘We are not snakes,’ the wyvern snapped, fanning his hood. A double tongue flicked angrily between his needle teeth. ‘We are wyverns.’
“‘Wyrms.’
“‘Peace, Zod,’ said Jared the king; then, to the creatures: ‘Pay him no heed. We do not. He is a speaker of foolish nothing. ’
“‘Wise foolish nothing,’ the seer replied beneath his breath.”
“Why don’t they believe him?” muttered Jan under his own breath now. He could never lie still during the second cant. “Why doesn’t the princess heed him—can’t she see the wyverns are lying?”
“This is a tale,” Dagg hissed at him. “Of course we can tell.”
“Halla spoke,” said Tek. “‘Where will you go when your younglings are ready?’ the princess of the unicorns inquired.
“The wyrm hung its head. ‘We do not know. We will move on, across the Great Grass Plain, hoping to stumble upon someplace hospitable to our kind, where we might live peaceably, disturbing no one.’”
“Liar,” muttered Jan.
“Be still,” hissed Dagg.
“‘Whence do you come?’ said Halla to the wyverns. ‘Why have you journeyed across the Plain?’
“‘Ah,’ cried Lynex, ‘we come from the north, the north and east where once we dwelled in harmony with our cousins, the red dragons. But our cousins cast us off—for envy, we think. We are too beautiful for their liking, though that is not the reason they would give.’
“The wyvern’s eyes reddened with rancor.
“‘They said we were too many; they said. . . .’ He stopped himself suddenly. ‘Ah, but . . . as you see, we are only a very few.’
“Halla stood gazing out over the backs of the wyverns. She swatted a deerfly on her haunch and picked testily at the ground with one forehoof. Now that she scanned, she saw the white wyrms matched the diminished herd of the unicorns nearly beast for beast. ‘Not so few,’ she muttered to herself.
“‘More than that,’ her scout beside her murmured. ‘Our lookouts spotted many more than that.’
“‘Are all your people here assembled?’ Halla asked aloud.
“‘All that yet are left to us alive,’ Lynex replied.
“‘Well enough,’ Jared replied. Then turning to Halla and her advisors, he said—seemingly to them, but loud enough for the wyrms to hear—‘Harmless enough, they seem. I say we should succor them.’
“‘A moment, Father,’ the princess cried. ‘They appear to me less harmless than you think.’ She turned again to the drove of wyverns. ‘What do you eat?’
“And at this, for the first time, the wyverns did not answer at once, but turned to consult among themselves in their soft, sliding whispers.
“‘Fish,’ said Lynex, turning, ‘when we can get them, small lizards, birds’ eggs. But when those cannot be found, we may subsist on grass for a little, as we have done these past months—that same sweet grass which you yourselves eat.’
“Halla eyed their needle teeth.
“‘Aye, fine sharp cusps they have,’ murmured Zod the singer, ‘for the grinding of grass.’
“‘You have poison stings on your tails,” said Halla.
“Then the wyverns flicked their tails and hissed till Lynex stilled them. ‘Mere decoration only,’ he replied, brandishing the barbed tip of his tail. ‘And no defense against dragons, I fear.’
“‘Then why . . .’ the princess began.
“‘Well enough, well enough!’ her father cried. ‘Let us put an end to this bickering. It grows late, and I am weary.’ Before his daughter could protest he continued: ‘Hear my judgment. Let the wyverns make dens in the rocks for one season. At the end of that time let us assemble again to parley their further stay.’
“Then Lynex the wyvern king bellied down to the dust. ‘You will not regret this largess, O king. We are used to living inconspicuously; we will not disturb you—and we sleep all winter.’
“Coming forward then, he and Jared sealed their bargain with the pledge-kiss rulers give one another. But as her father turned away, Halla saw that the ear above the cheek where the wyvern king had kissed him lay crumpled, stood upright no more.
“Then the wyverns gave a great hissing shout and disappeared quick as a twitch into every burrow and cranny and cave in the rocks, so that at the end of ten heartbeats there was not tip nor tail to be seen of them, nor hardly any sign that they had been there at all.
“‘And now that they are slithered in,’ said Zod to no one, softly, ‘how ever shall we get them out again?’
“And Halla said quietly to her scout beside her, ‘Let us send runners over Alma’s back to north and east to find the red dragons. I would know what reason they give for the casting out of these slithery cousins of theirs.’”
Shadow Under the Moon
7
Tek paused again and bowed her head. The second cant was done. She stood facing wholly away from Jan and Dagg now, gazing out over the far half of the Circle. The moon had floated well up into the sky, its cool light spilling as pale as water.
“So the runners were sent,” chanted Tek from her ledge. Jan heard the faintest echo of her words bounding back from the far hillside. “. . . at Halla’s behest and without the king’s knowing. Summer paled slowly into autumn, and hardly a scale was seen of the wyverns. They kept to their rock shelves, to themselves, until the unicorns nearly forgot their presence with the feasting and the dancing and the gathering of fall.
“But Halla was troubled. Her messengers did not return, and it seemed that her father made merrier than the rest, strange merriment. His thoughts strayed and rambled. And the ear where the wyvern had kissed him still drooped, so that now he was a little deaf. It uneased her.
“Zod, too, seemed uneasy. Haunting were the lays, all danger and betrayal, that fell from his tongue, mostly for her ears, though the princess did not know him well. And when on cold autumn nights from beneath some spreading fir Halla awoke to a distant, mournful cry, she knew it was the singer at his dreams.
“Winter came, and with it, snow. The wellsprings froze, and then no sight or sound of the wyverns came. They lay curled tight in sleeping knots below ground, so the unicorns supposed—though sometimes wisps of acrid mist rose from the airholes to their dens. It was a puzzle passing strange. No one could make it out.
“Then the unicorns ate of their stores, pawing through the snow to find forage, and chewed the leaves of spruce and fir, warm in their winter shag, thinking nothing of the wyrms—while Zod sang songs of doom all winter and Halla waited for her runners to return.”
Tek had turned just past halfway around in her circling. Jan began to be able to see her face again, though she faced still toward the far side of the Circle. The lightest of echoes sang back from the distant slope as she chanted, shadowing her words. The moon hung two-thirds of the way to its zenith. Jan listened to Tek’s singing under the moon.
“Spring came. The snows dissolved. Ice that had locked the pools melted, and new grass sprang upon the Plain. Then two young colts disappeared within a day of one another and were not seen again. Searchers combed diligently, but no trace could be found.
“Companions said they had last seen them in the south and east, near the wyvern cliffs, but no sign of wyverns either could be found, and no answer came when the searchers shouted down into their caves. Jared the king said the year was early yet for wyrms to be abroad. No more was said. No more could be done.
“Then a young mare heavy in foal went up to the Mirror of the Moon to bear, but returned not, nor her companion the midwife. They were not
seen again. This time the searchers found wyvern tracks and belly marks about the poolside and crystalized droppings under the trees. But still no answer came from beneath the shelves when the searchers called, and no wyverns emerged.
“Jared the king said still the white wyrms were asleep, fast slumbering, and the searchers must have mistook the signs, that the tracks must be those of banded pards, or other grass-cats wandered in from the Plain. But when urged by his advisors, he would post no lookouts. So scouts were posted at Halla’s word, against the orders of the king.
“Soon some of them said they had seen wyverns moving about the shelves at night. Others spoke of wyverns bathing in the sacred Mirror of the Moon before dawn. Hearing this, the princess grew alarmed, and ordered mineral salt thrown down about the Mere to keep them off.
“But when clear traces were found at last that the wyverns had visited the salt-clay cliffs where the dead are laid beneath the stars and had carried off the bodies of warriors put to rest there, Halla went with this knowledge to her father and confronted him before his counselors.”
Tek had turned more around now. The faint, silvery echo still repeated her words.
“At first Jared laughed at his daughter’s charges against the wyrms. Then he grew angry when she told him of the watchers she had posted against his word. And suddenly, without warning, he cried out in a voice that seemed unlike his own:
“‘Traitor, traitor, thrice a traitor! My own daughter, my heir, has betrayed me!’
“He got no further, for by this time a great assembly had gathered, and hearing that Halla had set sentries upon the white wyrms, most of the people cried out in her favor, for there was much murmuring now against the wyverns, and much fear.
“But even as they were speaking, a messenger came galloping, tangle-hooved and exhausted. He pitched to a halt before Halla, bowing low.
“‘Hail, princess. I have returned from the red dragons. All summer it took us to find their country across the Plain, and all autumn to persuade them we were not spies. Over the winter, one of our number died, and two are still held hostage. But the dragons have allowed me to return to you, and here is the answer to the question we carried:
Birth of the Firebringer Page 5