Even as he had the thought, his perception expanded yet more, and he realized that, being unimpeded by flesh, he could extend his protection almost infinitely. Those who lived on the world below, each in his small niche, occupied with family or work or fears, were his responsibility. He could, at need, direct a thought, an impulse, or an intuition into the minds of those charged, as he had been, with the safety of their fellows. Remembering his own life, he knew that some watcher had so directed him.
While greater spirits controlled storms and eclipses and the shaking of mountains, he, who had been Shamyl, was assigned the task of safeguarding, as well as he could manage, people who shared the moment of life he had been given by Louwina and her Dream. Now he understood her reasons, and he wondered, drifting like mist on the breeze of the heights, if he, too, might be allowed to die from the world at last.
And then – perhaps – he might find Ekatera and his spirit-children again, to share whatever sort of future lay beyond the death of mortal beings.
EARLY ENCOUNTER
The October night was clear and moonlit, with just enough nip in the air to stir the blood. When I left the cavern in my peak, I could see a light powdering of snow on the distant mountaintops. Even my own modest eminence was nicely frosted. I rolled a bit in the drifts, enjoying the chill on my coils.
Then I stretched my wings and launched myself from the ledge into an intoxicating rush of cold air. I wheeled to strike out after altitude; leveling off, I flew in a lazy arc over my territory. On the horizon, I could see glints of scales in the moonlight – others of my kind were also at their evening's exercise. It was pleasant having them there, though I would not have enjoyed their being closer.
I was over the grasslands, able to see the twinkles from the few campfires where the nomad people were temporarily settled beside springs or wells. It seemed such a short time since they were skulking in holes in the foothills, digging for grubs and robbing birds' nests!
I made a foray into their hunting grounds once, some thousands of years ago, and I still recall their terror. It was amusing, in a way, but my conscience, which those of my species do not ignore, objected to such pastimes. We do not indulge in pointless cruelty.
I returned to breathe a fallen shrub into flame for their use. They did not know fire before that, and they have used it ever since. This single thing has led them far from their original root-grubbing ways, and perhaps for that reason I feel a rather parental interest in their lives and their activities.
A spark of light distracted me ... I twisted my neck and looked upward, dimming the flame from my nostrils to increase visibility. I saw an enigma, and dragons do not like for enigmas to appear in their skies while they take their constitutionals.
A green light moved toward the mountains from the south, its speed incredible. Even as I watched, it banked to circle the nomad encampments below. Then it stopped in mid-air, instantaneously, which any dragon worth his salt understands is aerodynamically impossible. While it hung there, I saw that it was rounded, domed in the center, with green lights rimming its flat bottom.
A long unused instinct told me to hide, and I folded my wings at once and dived toward a peak at the edge of the foothills. At the last moment, I glided to break my fall, hoping the moonlight did not flash on my outspread wings.
I wound myself among the rocks and watched the uncanny thing. It seemed to be sinking silently into the valley just below my peak, though it was still high, and I could see its lights were dimming. As I watched, there came movement to the north.
A familiar shape – my uncle, the only one of my kind who visits me uninvited – was on his way to investigate this phenomenon and lend his support, if I should need it. Before I could utter a warning, a beam of purple light shot from the intruder, catching my uncle fully in its glare. He glowed for a frightful moment with purple fires. Then he crumpled and flashed into nothingness.
My heart almost bursting with grief and anger, I watched the murderous object move down into the valley. I glided off the outcrop behind which I had taken shelter and circled behind the ridge to find a path down into the valley.
Before the round thing was settled comfortably, I was hidden in a crevice among boulders, well within view of it. A small camp of hunters was situated around the spring at one side of the cup. Their fire was all but out, yet even as I hid myself there came a shout from their lookout, warning them.
They scattered in all directions, and one took cover among the boulders hiding me. I knew the rest would find boltholes, but even as I watched that purple light began to sweep in circles about the valley.
Without thinking, I reached to pull the hiding man deeper into the cleft. The rocks behind which we sheltered sizzled and popped, as the beam passed, and I shuddered to think what it was doing to any of the men who had sheltered among the sparse greenery of the valley floor.
The man was trembling between my claws. I set him against the wall and breathed just enough flame to make light by which to see him. He was a young one, his beard still straggly and his unruly mop of hair untouched with gray. His eyes glittered in the dim light, their expression wild and terrified. I sighed, almost scorching him inadvertently, and shaped my mouth to man-talk.
"That thing out there," I breathed, "is an enemy to both our kinds. It has slain my kinsman, even as it is slaying yours. I am no enemy of your kind, although you fear me when I fly over your lands. It was I who gave your fathers fire, in ages long past. Now I recall that debt. Help my people destroy this murderous thing!"
His mouth opened, and spittle drooled from a corner of his lips. His staring eyes rolled with fear.
I am not without imagination. I knew I seemed fearfully dangerous to him, being some six or seven of his lengths and at least four times his girth at my thickest. Breathing fire, though I had damped my breath as much as possible, could not have reassured him, I knew.
Using my most persuasive voice, I began to calm him. You must understand that a male of my sort must learn to be subtly and completely persuasive. Females of the dragon breed are short of temper, at least as large as the males, and their breath is, instead of flame, purest poison, when emitted in anger.
I had not gone courting in a handful of centuries, but I always kept my techniques well honed. I never know when a romantic fit will overtake me. With such skills, I wooed that scrawny specimen of Man as if he were the love of my life. Needless to say, I succeeded.
When next I had opportunity to peer from my hiding place, the moon was down. Green light filled the valley, and by its glow I could see stumpy creatures moving about the space around the circular craft. They were ... it fills me with nausea to say it ... butchering the hunters whom their beam had slain. Were these alien creatures simply predators who killed whatever living thing they found? Why else slay my uncle?
My companion, Har, needed no more persuasion, once he saw what was being done to his fellows. We watched, helpless, as the grisly work was completed and the creatures returned to their craft. When the door closed tightly behind them, forming again a part of the side of the vehicle, I assumed they were settled for the night.
I led Har through a hidden passage at the root of the mountain, back into the edge of the grasslands. "Go and warn your people," I said. "Tell them to hide in caverns in the mountains until this danger passes. I will go to find my Dragonmaster, for this is a matter for my kind to deal with."
Har grunted and hurried into the darkness, his spear ready. I listened to his steps for a moment. Then I dragged myself painfully onto a height sufficient for launching my bulk into the air again.
I flew low, keeping ridges between my position and the craft until it was well behind me. It was almost dawn when I approached the peak of the Lair and roared a bellow into the still air of morning. Then I spiralled down to land on the ledge outside the Dragonmaster's Lair.
His reply echoed up the wide shaft of his entryway. As I waited for him, I realized that others of my kind were coming through the dawnlit sky, sensing our danger.
When the Master reached his ledge, it was crowded with at least a dozen of us, and the air was thick with fumes and smoke.
We do not waste time with formalities. I gave my report as briefly as possible, and when I was done the Master coiled himself around the standing stone at the middle of the ledge. "Come and coil with me," he said. "Let us join bodies and minds in counsel, so we may consider what may be done."
It that strange communion peculiar to dragons, we pooled our knowledge, experience, and speculation. When we uncoiled again, we had, we thought, a workable answer.
"These beings seem to kill whatever lives, and they eat flesh of thinking beings without inquiring as to intelligence. Their artifacts give them more power than their puny bodies could, while their minds seem to be lacking in understanding. They intrude into our countryside and kill our Men, and we must deal with them, or they will destroy our Men, who are only beginning the long road toward wisdom. We do not kill without good cause, and even then it is a matter that troubles our consciences, but we agree that these creatures must die that our Men may live.
"Our plan is good. Go and gather our kind. We will meet at Ahrl's peak."
I rose on my coils. "Any who do not know the way need only ask," I bellowed.
When night fell again across the mountains, I sat on my peak, staring across the grasslands. No fires twinkled there, for my Men were safely hidden.
I swooped down into the valley, but the craft was no longer there. No trace of its victims remained, other than blots of dried blood on the grass and soil marked with traces of square feet. As I examined the marks, I heard a whistle.
Har came toward me, keeping to cover. "Ahrl!" he said. "That thing has moved into the grasslands. It took an entire encampment, children and all, before I could warn them. My people attacked it, but it made the purple light. All died who were caught in its beam."
"Take me near enough to see," I said. I did not fly, for that made me too visible. I walked, with much difficulty, behind my guide, and after a long and painful time we saw the craft sitting in a barren spot.
The bodies of the slain had again been taken inside, but the grass and dirt were bloodied in a circle around it. There was no cover to hide any attacker, and I felt in one of my dragon senses a tingling against my skin I knew must be the alarm that warned those inside when anyone approached their vehicle.
I crouched, and the force grew stronger. I rose upon my coils, as high as I could, and still I felt it. Lifting a wing as fully upward as possible, I felt at last a lessening of the intensity of that tingle. It was clear these beings had not recognized my uncle as a possible threat from the air – they simply killed him because he was visible.
"We must attack from above," I said to Har. "This sensing is now set low to warn against things that go on legs. I will try it out. If I am wrong and I die, then you must warn my fellows against attacking it from above."
I could see his knees quivering, and his long face turned white.
"Do not fear dragons, Har. If we had wished ill to your kind, you would not now walk in the world. We avoid you, for we know we frighten you. Those who come will be your allies."
I turned and made my stumping way to the nearest high ground. Sometimes it is wearing to have such great bulk and such short legs; my tail was raw from dragging before I gained enough height to launch myself into the air.
It was cold, but the night air was winy-sweet. I wheeled over the grassland, gaining altitude before spiralling downward, directly above the craft. Every nerve was alert, anticipating a burst of the purple light, as I came nearer the curving top. Still there was no beam.
I swept over and up in a rush of air. Gaining height, I saw moonlit shapes approaching, and I sped toward them, leaving Har to take cover with his fellows. The Master led some thirty of our kind.
As we flew together, I explained the situation. They saw at once the advantage of attacking from overhead, though the Master had an objection. "Lack of surveillance above does not mean the weapons cannot be focused in that direction! We cannot safely land on the top of the craft." He paused to think.
"Speed will aid us most. "Let us move swiftly and hope few die in dealing with this matter."
We neared the grassland, flying toward the evil green circle of light in the darkness. We took our positions in mid-air and then dropped with a rush, landing within claw's reach of the craft. A howling noise came from inside, but we were busy gripping with our taloned paws and levering with our strong coils.
Those on one side lifted, while those on the other heaved downward. Within three heartbeats, we had turned the thing onto its back.
Thumps and crashes came from inside, mixed with odd yowls and chittering sounds that might have been curses. A beam shot out, but its angle was hopelessly wrong, in this new position, for we had moved to the underside of the rim.
The Dragonmaster sighed redly into the night. "It seems wrong to slay these people out of hand. They are obviously intelligent, and somewhere they must have those who hold them in esteem. It hurts my heart to think of it, but what choice have we?"
"None," I said. "They do not know our tongue nor we theirs. They would find us frightening – even our own Men do. Their first instinct is to kill, as I have seen for myself. Terrible as it seems, we must destroy them before they work more mischief on our world, which is not the one on which they belong."
I heard grunts of agreement and saw small snorts of flame about me.
"Then if it must be ... FLAME!" roared the Master.
We took deep breaths and aimed our fires at the metal of the craft. Seeing what we did, the men who had hidden with Har ran to bring wood and dead grass to pile about the dome. It caught quickly; the metal blackened and then began to grow red. In time terrible sounds came from inside it.
Pitiful cries came from the glowing metal. We turned our backs and made for launching spots, tears running down our horny cheeks. Aeons ago, we, too, were a barbaric people. We learned, with pain and sorrow, to value living things at last. Even the mountain sheep we killed for our food were honored, as they died.
We withheld our anger from small and helpless creatures; now we suffered for these alien beings, condemned to die in agony. They would never know why they died or even what had injured their vehicle, and it seemed sad.
We crept away to high ground. I looked back more than once at the circle of firelight on the plain. The Men, whom I thought of in some strange way as my children, danced and yelled more fiercely still, as if glorying in their own cruelty.
"We will disappear, in time," I said to the Master. "Their kind will endure into undreamed-of futures ... I feel it."
"I know," he replied. "They are our heirs. We have taught them many things, though they have not learned kindness as yet. They will never acknowledge or even remember us. They show signs of wisdom, at times, but Ahrl, will they ever learn to pity their enemies?"
The moon was down as we launched ourselves into the air. I could see the glow of the fire, the white-hot shape in its middle. "Perhaps they will grow to understand things we have never thought about. But, indeed, will they ever learn to value life?"
He did not answer as we stroked up and up into the cold air. The stars winked frozen eyes, and the spot of gold on the grasslands grew smaller and smaller until it disappeared in the distance.
A GAME FOR THE GINLI
Spitting with rage, she dived through the window, taking the heavy panes with her into the snow. A deep drift broke her three-story fall, the sudden chill shocking even through her fur. She rolled to her feet, shaking a shower of crystals from herself. Then she looked up at the three doleful faces staring down at her from the high window-hole.
Her whiskers twitching, she hissed, "Not lightly do you lay hands upon the Fssa! Though the Compact of Sapient Creatures may protect you from other kinds, that will not shield you from the vengeance of the Fssa.
"The creature that you trapped may be dead, and you may feel safe, now. But you are not! I stand here alive.
"I will bear witness, do you undersstand? Thiss one sslip that you have made upon the world devoted to arts and to winter ssports has put you into the hands of the Law. I might invoke that Law ... but I think that I will not."
Her wide feline mouth widened in a grin. "I think I will teach you a game. One that you may not find sso amussing as dissecting harmless creaturess."
None of those at the window answered her. Instead, one put two fingers to his lipless mouth and a shrill whistle filled the snowy garden. Hsela turned her head, her pointed ears twitching.
A harsh voice called from above, "Loose the dogs! She can never get over the wall! But do not kill her – yet. She is the only one of her kind that we have ever been able to catch."
A delicate snarl lifted one corner of Hsela's lip. Can't get over the wall, indeed! she thought, as she tensed her steely muscles. She leaped for the spike-embedded wall, clearing incredible spans at each spring. Once there, she turned and made a witheringly insulting gesture toward the watching Ginli.
She flowed up a slender conifer that stood near the wall. Once at the top, she swayed it backward and forward, using the trunk as a sort of spring. On a forward swing, she launched her furred body over the spikes of the wall and into the snowy forest, where twilight had already gathered beneath the trees.
There was, on the other side of the wall, the sound of snarling and snuffling, as she skittered through the snow, intoxicated with fury and glee. She could envision the frustrated Ginli as they struggled into winter gear, making their always ponderous preparations for pursuit. They would come after her ... everything she had learned about those humorless beings assured her of that.
If she bore witness against them, accusing them of abduction and threatened vivisection, she would bring down upon their cold gray heads the full weight of all the kinds who subscribed to the Confederation linking the sentient species of several galaxies. That would limit their movements among the confederated worlds, as well as their attempts to achieve the obscure goal they seemed to be pursuing.
THE TWILIGHT DANCER Page 4