by E. E. Knight
Yes, the Copper had courage. Courage and heart and the ability to keep his head. It had taken him far and won him a mate AuRon admired. He also wondered about RuGaard’s first mate. Clearly she’d seen in the ungainly young dragon with the slack eye a quality others missed.
Your wrath shouldn’t win.
Maybe AuRon could have done better by his brother. Snuck him food from the egg shelf. He’d been a greedy little hatchling, even stealing what he could from his sisters.
In his way, he’d done more for dragons than AuRon had. AuRon admitted to himself that he’d gained them a safe refuge, hard for men and elves and dwarfs to find, and even harder to attempt to control. His brother had made it a world where dragons were no longer hunted.
Then there was his sister. Wistala, who didn’t set dragons above the hominids as the Copper did, or apart from them as AuRon would have it, but beside them, cooperating as best as she could. Had she been wrong? Too idealistic? Blinded by memories of a kindly old elf who’d taken her into his home?
AuRon couldn’t fault her.
Each of them were products of birth and circumstance. Each had found a way to make their outlook work. Only time would tell who was right.
The question was, which approach would last?
The griffaran who’d turned on his companions settled on the Copper’s back to rest and rearrange his feathers.
The griffaran, a grizzled veteran with feathers that were thin and dull, but with a painted beak showing bright markings of rank, executed a bob before his brother.
“Who are you?” the Copper asked
“Named Miki!” the oldster squawked in a griffaran’s usual punchy Drakine. “Years ago. Many! Others forgot! Not me!”
“What happened years ago?” his brother asked.
“You saved an egg. From demen. ’Twas me!”
Miki shot out his story like a dwarf rock thrower war machine, in quick bursts of words. He’d been raised to be loyal to the dragons, and especially loyal to the Tyr who had saved him.
“Great RuGaard Miki Tyr! Always! Protect Tyr!”
“Thank you,” the Copper said.
“What now?” Wistala asked. “If this island is part of the Grand Alliance, they won’t let us stay here.”
Shadowcatch inspected his torn wings. “I’m not going anywhere for the moment. I don’t suppose there are any thralls around who are good at stitching?”
“Even united, we can’t hold a hole against the Aerial Host,” the Copper said. “They’ll simply fly in demen and dwarfs and who knows what else.”
The surrendered barbarians dropped the last shields in a pile and the Copper waved them off with his tail.
“Wistala and Shadowcatch, you’d better let your gold gizzards make what you can of this,” the Copper said.
“So much for a peaceful exile,” AuRon said.
“Well, the civil war was at least brief,” Wistala said, crunching a shield down into an easy-to-swallow size.
“It’s only begun,” the Copper muttered.
“Where can we go?” Shadowcatch asked. “This isn’t a big enough island to hide us. Not many caves, as I remember.”
“They’ve made an enemy today,” AuRon said.
“Two enemies,” Wistala said.
“Three,” the Copper added, his good eye alert and intelligent for the first time during their trip.
“Five,” Miki squawked, either assuming Shadowcatch made four or employing the wrong word of Drakine.
“In any case, we need to go somewhere safe, where we can to lick our wounds and have a moment’s peace to think. Hypatia is barred to us. From the Isle of Ice they’ll be able to watch all the shores of the northern part of the Inland Ocean.”
“The Great East?” the Copper asked.
“I’ve been there,” Wistala said. “Dragon bones are a much-prized item for their medicines.”
“Old Uldam is big, with many valleys and caves,” AuRon said. “My daughter might be willing to hide us, at least for a little while.”
“That’s a long way off,” the Copper said.
Wistala lifted her head and dropped a piece of chain at a sudden thought. “I know a place. Food, it is remote, there are even a few dragons there. We may even have a friend.”
“What’s that?” the Copper asked.
“The Sadda-Vale,” Wistala said. “It’s ruled by an old white dragon-dame named Scabia. She said something once about being distantly related to us. Our grandsire may have come from the Sadda-Vale.”
“I thought that was a legend,” the Copper said. “Some bit of Silverhigh everyone’s forgotten.”
“There are still dragons there. DharSii, for one. He lives there at least some of the time.”
“If we are to leave, we should go soon,” AuRon said. “Imfamnia might be back with more griffaran, or those gargoyle creatures.”
“I can’t make it,” Shadowcatch said. “My wing’s torn up.”
“Can you swim?” AuRon asked.
“I think so.”
“If you can make it to the shore in the east, there’s a tower—”
“Yes, I know it. The Dragonheight. That woman’s place. I know her, she’s gotten me jobs in the past. She’ll stitch me up in a trice. Didn’t occur to me to swim all that way, though. Hope I don’t sink.”
“Will you be all right?” Wistala asked.
“I can buy you some time. Make them think we’re hiding on one of the outer islands. I can make enough racket to make them think the whole Lavadome’s squatting in those sluice-caves. Do a bit of bellowing at anything that comes close. Besides, I could do with a little fresh crab. That’s the one problem with the Lavadome, no shell-carriers. Keeps the digestion clean.”
AuRon forgot his unhappiness for a moment. Shadowcatch’s thoughts rarely moved far from his stomach or fighting.
“More might come than you can handle,” AuRon said.
“You know me, NooSh—err, AuRon. I’m not a bad fighter when the blood’s up.”
“If you must, hide out at the north end of the island. The wolves have seen you with me. They’ll stand guard while you sleep.”
Wistala watched the sun drop toward the horiozn. “Let’s all be seen swimming or flying for that island, then. I’m sure we’re being watched from somewhere.”
They crept down one of the glacier-runoff streams and slipped into the water for the swim to the island. Salt water felt good on everyone’s wounds, and they took a few minutes to lick one another other clean, pull riven scale, and extract arrowheads—which could then be swallowed for a little needed metal. The Copper had shoved a few shields and helmets under his bad wing.
“Hope this contraption holds out for the rest of the trip,” he said.
“DharSii might be able to figure it out,” Wistala said. “He’s very clever. Between us and the blighters she keeps around we might be able to keep it functioning.”
“I’m not likely to make many more trips,” the Copper said. “I’d hardly dare. A whole Empire wants me dead.”
“Let’s leave the worries for another day,” AuRon said. “Join us if you can, Shadowcatch.”
Wistala gave him instructions on how to find the hidden valley, east of the Red Mountains.
“Please come,” the Copper said. “It doesn’t sound right without you grinding your teeth behind me somewhere. It’s difficult to think without the noise.”
“I’m tempted to stay and settle things once and for all with Ouistrela. But as far as I’m concerned, Tyr RuGaard is still my lord. I’ll come if I can get my wings catching air again.”
With that, the three dragons took to the skies, with Miki flying close beside the Copper.
Chapter 20
They flew in a tight grouping, flying over sandhills tufted with patchy grasses, with AuRon at the angle. Game trails followed the water found here and there, but they couldn’t catch much that offered even a partial mouthful. The bigger game herds were probably still on their way north.
Wi
stala wondered if they even would have made it, traveling in the north in that bleak and bitter spring, without AuRon flying at their head. He cut the air for them, and they rode with the advantage of the draft he’d created.
Miki suffered terribly from the cold. They took turns lighting dragon-fire so that he could warm his thin body. The only thing that kept the old griffaran going was a promise of bony fishes taken from the deep lake of the Sadda-Vale.
At one of their warmth-and-water breaks, RuGaard offered to take over the lead position to give AuRon a chance to rest.
“I’m not dragging scale,” AuRon said. “I don’t mind anything except that the rest of you are a little slow.”
They all chuckled at that. Perhaps the family had learned to laugh after all.
They flew high over the mountains surrounding the Sadda-Vale at the cost of exhaustion, but with the journey almost at an end.
Wistala thought Vesshall in the Sadda-Vale hadn’t changed in the intervening years any more than as if she’d just left the previous night. The stone latticework over the entrance, the great dome carved out of living rock, the steaming pools of the lake beneath giving wisps of heat up into the sky.
Perhaps the Sadda-Vale was a sister location to the Lavadome. Unchanging year in and year out.
Not such a bad place to live in exile. Hot and cold natural pools for swimming, the vast, deep lake, architecture unlike anything she’d seen in the wide world, and plenty of game. A troll hunt with three or more full-grown dragons would be an interesting challenge rather than a risky hunt. She’d have to remind her brothers about the trolls.
Though today it was mist-shrouded. Nevertheless a few blighters were employed sweeping leaves from the vast courtyard before the entrance.
They dropped their brooms and fled at the sight of the new arrivals.
DharSii was the first to amble out of the entrance with its ancient writing. He startled when he recognized them.
“We seek refuge,” AuRon said.
“And fish. And warms,” Miki said in his bad Drakine.
DharSii cleared his throat. “Ha-hem. Welcome, Wistala. It’s good to see you again. Greetings, AuRon. Tyr RuGaard, you fly with a small escort. Has there been trouble?”
Scabia the White shuffled out, dragging her tail, but the aged dragon still had bright and alert eyes. “We’ve met before, Wistala of the line of AuNor.”
“Yes, briefly.”
“A young dragon seeking help in her battles in the wide world,” Scabia sniffed.
DharSii looked uncomfortable.
“So, how did your contest in the world of hominids turn out? A smashing success, no doubt?”
“I am no judge of my own success.”
“Now you’ve returned.”
“As you see.”
“I can’t imagine what your party seeks that is in my power to grant.”
“We seek refuge with you from a hostile world. We are all exiles from the Grand Alliance.”
“DharSii, is this the confounded arrangement you were speaking of?”
“Yes, Scabia. The Lavadome dragons and the Hypatians are now allies.”
“It’ll end badly. Such arrangements always do. Well, I expect you’re hungry. I can see the ribs on that poor scaleless dragon with the regrown tail.”
“We’d be grateful for your hospitality,” Wistala said.
“You never struck me as the grateful type. But perhaps your experiences have taught you better manners than to go running off from your hosts in the dead of night. Well, it’s a cold day, and I don’t care for the Upper World.”
She led them all down into the great hall Wistala remembered, with its many lofts projecting from the side and pools of rainwater on the floor. It still smelled musty, like secrets hardly worth keeping.
As the others ate, Scabia settled down beside Wistala.
“It’s good to have another dragonelle around,” the aged white said.
“We may stay some time, if you’ll let us. We all could use a rest.”
“The Sadda-Vale can support many more dragons than it does. It has in the past, in any case. You can win a place for yourself and your companions permanently, as uzhin.”
“You still need eggs for your daughter?” Wistala asked. Scabia’s charity always came with a price, and she’d asked, years ago, that Wistala mate with NaStirath so that her barren daughter Aethleethia would have hatchlings to care for.
“Yes. I’d still like you to produce them. The superiority of your characteristics, your size and strength, suggest that you would lay fit, healthy hatchlings. Why, you might have eight or more eggs in a single clutch. You could be the foundation of a new age in the Sadda-Vale.”
Scabia’s eyes gleamed. Was she looking forward to a new age, or back at past glories?
“The price is mating with NaStirath.”
“He’s not so bad, Wistala.”
“But—mate with him?”
“Take it from one who has mated many times. It is over before you know it.”
She wondered how far she could dare tax Scabia’s charity and desire for another generation in the Sadda-Vale. “I’d much rather mate with DharSii,” Wistala finally said.
“DharSii? Surely you joke.”
“He’s a closer relative of yours, isn’t he?”
“Yes. But he’s a striped dragon. They’re always difficult, often sterile. I don’t believe mating with him would be productive. Striped dragons never fit in, no offense intended against either my uzhin or your scaleless brother.”
“My brother has stripes, and has managed to produce offspring. One clutch of four eggs.”
“Probably striped as well. If that’s all he’s managed to have, he’ll be the last of his line. DharSii is out of the question. You must lay the next eggs in my hall, with NaStirath.”
She stared at the empty floor.
“Besides,” Scabia continued, “there are attributes of DharSii that I wouldn’t wish to see passed on. He has forever humbled himself by working in harness for hominids. I would not have any line of mine sullied by a slave.”
“He worked for hominids to bring you coin.”
“A real dragon finds coin, takes it, demands it of his inferiors. He doesn’t run errands like a dwarfen shopkeeper.”
“You think NaStirath his superior?”
“I wouldn’t trust NaStirath to burn down a barn full of oil-soaked cotton. But he is of an impressive length, his bone structure is exceedingly fine, he displays a better than average wingspan. I’ve never known him to be sick a day in his life.”
“The way he idles, I wonder how you could tell if he was sick.”
“What will it be, Wistala? You wish to live in my vale, you will accept my rule. Produce eggs for my daughter to raise as her own, or find another cave for your poor exiles. If you can.”
Wistala knew what her choice would be. It was there, half-formed and painful, like a toothache just setting in. She was but one dragonelle, thrown out by her society, but she held in her tender jaws the lives of two brothers, their families, and a handful of loyalists to an exiled regime.
“I will do as you demand.”
“You and your friends will find us generous hosts. There is nothing to fear from the Lavadome, relations between our two societies are of long-standing.”
“I hope that proves true,” Wistala said.
“The rule of Scabia is not to be trifled with.”
There was nothing to do but get it over with. If it had to be done, it might as well be done quickly. Her Copper brother was making himself miserable, and AuRon lay in his loft and slept like a jungle snake with a deer in it.
But they roused themselves to attend her “mating.”
Scabia even managed to climb a little spit of land that looked out on the unusually misty lake. Blue clouds high above looked like a stormy sea.
“Wistala,” NaStirath said. “Don’t look so down-at-hearts. Think of it as a silly game, to please your relatives. You may not admit it, bu
t you’re a sprig of the great tree Scabia tends, in her way.”
She took one long, last look at DharSii. If ever a dragon looked miserable enough to drop scale, it was he.
“I don’t suppose I get a song,” Wistala said.
Scabia snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not his mate, my offspring is.”
“Well, off with it, you two,” Scabia said. “I’ve waited long enough for some eggs in this cavern.”
DharSii, evidently unable to watch the rest of the ceremony, moved off in the direction of the lake.
“Don’t stand there twitching like a thunderstruck rabbit,” Scabia said. “Into the air. I’ll be watching, remember.”
“Oh please, must you?”
The Copper spoke at last. “Scabia, if my sister has agreed to . . . to create some eggs with NaStirath, she’ll do it. Save her the embarrassment of knowing she’s being watched from the ground.”
“Oh-h-h, once upon a time all the hominids of the world read their augurs whenever dragons mated.”
“Let them have their privacy,” the Copper said. “I’ve been on the receiving end of such curious stares. I didn’t care for it.”
“I’ll see that you get your eggs,” Wistala said. “I don’t want us watched.”
“Oh, very well,” Scabia said, darting suspicious glances at the siblings. “I suppose I can trust you to see this through, NaStirath?”
“The sooner it’s over, the better,” NaStirath said. “Not that anyone asked my opinion, but I don’t care to be watched either.”
“When you start having sensible opinions, I’ll start asking for them,” Scabia said. “Well, get on with the matter. I must go to my offspring.”
DharSii was lost in the mists coming off the lake. AuRon and RuGaard both dropped their heads in bows that were meant to be both grateful and encouraging, she imagined. Odd that their gestures were so alike, with decades of different experiences behind them.
“Flying is not my favorite pastime,” NaStirath said. “I hope you don’t expect me to perform up where the air’s too thin.”
“Be assured, I’ll fly gently,” Wistala said.