Under the Wolf's Shadow

by A. Katie Rose

  “He knows his stuff,” Jhet commented, watching Rygel’s aerial artistry at work. “Are you ready?”

  “I doubt it,” I sighed. “The thought of flying makes me want to hurl.”

  Jhet laughed, flames spurting from his muzzle. “Sorry. You’ll learn to appreciate it. Your mate certainly does.”

  “She’s a natural hawk,” I said, stepping onto his palm. “Me, I’m a wolf who prefers his paws on the ground.”

  “Hawks and wolves mate for life,” Jhet said, enclosing me inside his mobile prison. “You’re a lucky fellow.”

  “I don’t feel so lucky,” I muttered, wanting to shut my own eyes. But I swore to keep them open.

  He held me close to his chest as he leaped skyward, his wings beating strongly. The ground fell away at a sickening pace. As Jhet’s immense wings carried us higher, my belly yawned and gasped, entertaining me with images of what it might repel. As I had eaten nothing for five days, I knew I’d spew my own guts.

  I tried relaxing, gazing at the ground with interest. But it sped by, my eyes unable to keep up, and made me dizzy instead. Just as I vowed to quit watching it, the snowy ground and rocks and stunted trees vanished into a swirling murk. I tried not to yelp in panic.

  “Relax,” Jhet said. “We’re in the clouds.”

  In the what?

  Wispy tendrils of fog and mist enclosed us within their folds. I was alone up here, surrounded by mist and shadows, silent, deadly, shielding the solid earth from my view. I saw, heard, scented, tasted nothing but ice cold and winter snow. I felt as though I had vanished from the living and dwelt among the silent dead.

  “Flight is the Mother’s greatest gift of all,” Jhet commented, all but invisible in the dense fog. “Don’t you agree, Raine?”

  “Um,” I answered.

  “Chill,” Darius advised. “Just accept what is.”

  “Have you ever flown?”

  Darius suddenly shut up.

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  My belly roiling in protest, I shut my eyes against the grey-white mist. I gripped Jhet’s razor talons with my clenched fists, praying for this torment to end. Ly’Tana and Rygel are insane, I thought, enjoying that endless drop to the ground. All that empty air–ye gods!

  Sweating, cursing inwardly, I opened them in time to see the swirling, nauseating mist film pass us and vanish. Bright sunlight surged down on me, made my eyes water, and warmed my wretchedly cold bones. I glanced down once.

  The safety of earth had vanished. Only the billowing tops of the swirling clouds greeted my sight. Jhet took us so high, I gazed down at the rotating, pregnant, wafting white moisture that caused the rain, the hail, the snow to fall onto the earth. I dared not ponder the implications. My solid body would fall through them, unimpeded, unstopped and unstoppable. They may hiccup as I passed through them, but many more clouds replaced those my passing damaged.

  My belly burned. I dared not look any longer if I wanted not to puke.

  Instead, I focused on what lay ahead. The other dragons, my friends held literally in the palms of their hands beat toward the rapidly nearing mountain. Traveling in what would have taken us a day or more, the dragons closed in upon it within minutes. Unimpeded by the rigors of land travel, they bounced over the smaller mountains with the same ease I might use to cross a room. Mantled with the bright sunlight, the mountain called its children to it as a mother hen summons her chicks. Though the peak lay leagues distant, we’d reach it long before my belly calmed.

  “Is that your home?” I asked, trying to distract my attention from all those thousands of rods to the ground. Distantly, I noticed the air that passed through my hair felt colder than cold, yet my close proximity to Jhet kept me comfortably warm.

  “That it is,” Jhet replied. “For us, our Holy Mother, and the Keeper of the Sacred Flame.”

  “Um, Keeper?”

  He raised his fist that held me up to his amused eye. “Indeed. All will be explained to you shortly.”

  “They’re all headed toward that one hole.”

  Jhet laughed, sending forth a sharp burst of flame. “Sorry. We have but one entrance and one exit from our mountain. That is the entrance. The exit is on the other side.”

  The ‘why’ I intended to ask vanished instantly when he suddenly twisted in mid-air, and dove down toward the very small-looking cave mouth. As it lay flat against a shallow plateau near the top of the snow-cast mountain, it appeared he flew straight into suicide. That hole couldn’t possibly fit a dragon–

  I almost screamed as Jhet shortened his wingspan, increased his speed and entered death.

  The impending crash I braced against never occurred. Darkness swirled over my vision, yet the cavern’s walls swizzed by at a blinding speed. Wide enough for Jhet’s huge bulk, the tunnel straightened and smoothed out, allowing us to fly level. Unable to breathe, I watched as a red-gold glow announced the end of the tunnel.

  A breakneck speed, we burst out into–

  I gaped. My fear forgotten, my belly quiet, I stared out from Jhet’s fist at an incredible sight.

  “You like my home?” Jhet asked. “Come on, admit it. You like it.”

  “The entire mountain is hollow.”

  “Indeed it is.”

  An entire city of dragons flew upwards and downwards for thousands of rods in any direction. Above us, below us, dragons swarmed, reminiscent of bees in a hive. Like bats in a cave, the colossal cavern housed hundreds of flying beasts. I gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the natural caves into the inner walls of the lone, cone-shaped mountain. Many had ledges, where dragons, even younglings, perched and gazed out. Huge rock pillars rose from those walls, grown like ivy on a trellis, to which dragons clung before dropping into empty space to wing in safety to the next pillar.

  At the bottom, far and away, a flame bloomed from the mountain’s roots. A fire a hundred leagues or more high burned on nothing but rock. Yet it warmed the entire mountain as easily as a hearth in a serf’s hut.

  “Gods above and below,” I muttered, captivated by the sight.

  “Our Mother created this place just for us,” Jhet said proudly. “She looks after us quite well, indeed.”

  “I was told you lived in this desolate place because your fires are too hot for your bodies. You’d die anywhere else.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jhet snorted flame, laughing. “Sorry. If our Mother gave us this mountain in the tropics, we’d be as happy as a maggot in a carcass. Wouldn’t everyone want to live on a beach beside the ocean? But this is where she built our home, and we’re happy here. Oh, the winters suck rocks, but the summers aren’t too bad.”

  “How do you live?” I asked, twisting in his grip to look everywhere at once. A bronze dragon whizzed past Jhet’s muzzle, waved to him, and vanished into the general mill of flying bodies. “What do you eat?”

  He jerked his head in a vague direction. “A few hundred leagues south–”

  He coughed, snorted flame and apologized. “Er, our south, anyway, are vast herds of very meaty creatures that have adapted well to the high altitude climate. We range far and wide, never overhunting. Our Mother provides our home and plenty of creatures to kill for our food. You humans, and wolves, require closer hunting grounds. We can, and do, fly hundreds of leagues to fill our needs.”

  He jerked his muzzle. “No human predators have ranged this far north, thus we’ve no competition. Also, your folk tend to remain in your cities and breed your food. We plan, we prepare, and we don’t take more than what we need.”

  “Humans could learn a great deal from you,” I muttered.

  “Humans are rather stupid, in my opinion. Sorry.”

  “We can agree on that much, I’m thinking.”

  As Jhet spiraled downward, evading the clusters of dragons whizzing past us, I thought of another question. “May I ask, Jhet?”

  “Of course, Raine. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  “I was told your folk have incredibly hot tempers–”

  H
e raised me up to eye level. “Doesn’t your species have individuals with rather sensitive triggers?”

  “Well,” I said, thinking of Kel’Ratan. “Of course.”

  “As do ours. That doesn’t mean all of us have such. I like to think of myself as a very even-tempered beast. Aren’t you such a one?”

  I was, outside of my daemon, anyway. “Certainly,” I replied.

  “Methinks there’s much we can learn from one another,” he said. “Oh, we have room now. Past time to put on some speed.”

  Jhet dropped my belly into my throat with a steep dive. Straight toward the huge pillar of living fire, he plunged, taking me with him. My gut told me to close my eyes. My need for information kept them open.

  Through the huge cavern, Jhet stooped as though onto his prey, his wings folded against his back. Following a path opened by the other dragons, he swept through and past them, blasting by at thrice the speed of hurricane winds. Blinded by his sheer velocity, I saw little save my own tears.

  I heard dragons call to him, their voices half-heard before they were left behind to hang in mid-air. He neither answered nor turned his head, his concentration entirely on the ground below us.

  As Bar often did, Jhet snapped his wings open and wide, back-winging, with a huge effort. His drop slowed, permitting the tears to dry and me to watch, fascinated, as the stone floor of the cavern grew close. The Sacred Flame approached with less speed and more definition as he settled serenely to the earth. I blinked, swiping my hair from my eyes, and discovered my guts had landed with me, intact, after all.

  Ly’Tana, Kel’Ratan, and Rygel, already in their human forms, stood near Silverruff, Thunder and Little Bull. A lengthy distance away from the tremendous flame, they clustered together, trying to take in everything at once. Only Ly’Tana gazed at the draconic chaos with delight. Kel’Ratan scowled, while Rygel took methodical mental notes. Of the dragons who transported them, I saw nothing. I suspected they deposited their prisoners and departed to family and hearth.

  Jhet set me onto the stone floor of the mountain. As gently as a mother rests her infant into the cradle, he put me on my feet, his deadly talons swung wide. I turned to him, finding his chin close to the ground. His green-gold reptilian eyes gleamed.

  “You’re going to be just fine, gai-tan,” he said. “I believe in you.”

  His slender claw turned me around.

  A black dragon, so dark and huge he took my breath away, returned my curious stare. His muzzle greyed with age and wisdom, he absently picked his teeth with his talon. Food in abundance and an obvious lack of exercise put excess bulk on his tremendous frame. The beast lounged at ease upon a worn stone couch, his wings folded neatly over his shoulders as the spade tip of his tail flicked peacefully back and forth. He needed no crown to name him royal. I’d no doubt this great beast was their monarch, and the couch his throne.

  Jhet deposited me at the feet of the Dragon King.

  Almost leisurely, his reptilian green-gold eyes took in the wretched state of my companions. Ly’Tana curtseyed, her oily thick hair swinging about her pale face. Kel’Ratan and Rygel bowed low, as Silverruff, Thunder and Little Bull saluted him with bent forelegs and muzzles brushing the stone floor.

  Like a king receiving a foreign messenger, his astute gaze rested once again upon me. Smoke rose from his nostrils, casting him in mysterious shadow. Like a sovereign lord granting audience, his razor-tipped talon raised and beckoned.

  “Go on,” Jhet hissed in my ear as I hesitated. “This is your chance to represent your people.”

  “What people?” I muttered. “I’m neither wolf nor human.”

  “You’re both. Have confidence. Have faith.”

  As Jhet retreated, leaving me to face his King alone, I stepped forward. Kings required deference, abasement, and I held no rank here. I dropped to my right knee and bowed my head.

  “Your Majesty.”

  Smoke and flame blew from the dragon king’s nostrils. “I know thee, little wolf,” he said. “Thou art the child of Darius.”

  “I am, Your Majesty.”

  Keeping my eyes on the granite floor, I sensed rather than saw the King rise from his couch. His huge wings cast me into deep shadow. His claws scraped the living rock beneath him, loose pebbles forming a wide track to either side. Talons that would gut me like a deer plowed through solid rock.

  He blew out a gust of flame in a sigh and sat down. From under my hanging hair I watched as his amused eyes rolled in their sockets.

  “Oh, bother,” he commented, his tone dry. “I’m far too ordinary a fellow for such theatrics. Jhet failed to introduce us–he’s ever so rude. I’m Bulvang. Come, all of you, and sit with me. We must talk.”

  “Majesty?” I asked, rising.

  “I do apologize for your treatment, Raine of Connacht,” he said, bending his long neck to peer down. Like a cat curling before a warm hearth fire, his magnificent tail swept around his feet. “I like wolves. Very civilized creatures, wolves are. Khari, where is the food I promised? I hate it when I’m not obeyed instantly. I just hate such disrespect, simply hate it, don’t you, Raine?”

  “Of course, Majesty.”

  “Rulers should be obeyed instantly, but I fear I rule over a rather sloppy bunch.”

  “We revere you, Bulvang,” Jhet said. “You know that.”

  “Bugger you, Jhet.” Bulvang snorted flame. “How many times have I told you to call me ‘Father’?”

  “I’ve lost count, Bulvang.”

  I swung my head around my shoulder to peer up at Jhet’s immense head, as he sat, also catlike, behind me. “You’re his son?”

  “I know we don’t look alike,” Jhet replied, jaws wide in silent laughter.

  “Disrespectful child,” Bulvang snapped. “You all know how I hate delays, everyone. Bring food for our guests now. Chop, chop.”

  Several dragons, wings folded to prevent unnecessary gusts, dropped lightly to stone floor. Each carried a bundle of roast meat, cooked to perfection, hot and still bearing the needed vegetables, nuts and breads human bodies craved. Despite my companions’ instant greed, I lingered over my own delectable fare, and eyed the dragon king sidelong.

  “What do you want, Majesty?”

  “Food first,” the King said. “Then we’ll talk.”

  “But–”

  “Humor me, will you? Grant me the illusion I’m in control?”

  I’d no choice. With my hunger taking possession of my mind and will, I ate of the dragons’ generous offerings. Like a mindless, eating machine, I ate of the flavorful fare, belched and ate some more. Though they started first, Rygel, Ly’Tana, Kel’Ratan and the starving wolves ate far less than I. As they relaxed, licked paws and belched in contentment, I finished by stuffing the last piece of bread in my mouth.

  “You wish for more, Raine?”

  “Er, I think I ate you out of house and home, Majesty.”

  “Nonsense.”

  Flame burst from the King’s nostrils. “What can one small wolf do to harm our home and pantries?”

  “Plenty,” I said, my hand covering yet another loud burp.

  Bulvang waved his talon in a come-hither gesture. “Gather close, friends. While I may call you friends, I fear our friendship will be short-lived.”

  Obediently, Kel’Ratan and Rygel rose from their places near the holy flame. Silverruff trotted to my right side, gazing up at Bulvang, his tail waving gently. Taking my hand, Ly’Tana, her green eyes worried and her brow furrowed, offered Bulvang another brief curtsey. “What’s wrong, Majesty?” she asked, her face upturned toward Bulvang’s solemn eyes.

  “Our home’s been invaded.”

  The grey dragon who spoke stood behind us, his voice low and angry. Unlike the others, his tail lashed from side to side. His forked tongue whipped in and out, his reptilian eyes sparked red with a fury barely held in check. As he met my gaze, he hissed, smoke and flame bursting from his jaws.

  “This is Maher,” Bulvang said by way of introd
uction. “He’s one of my four council members. He along with Jhet, my obstinate offspring, and that glowering brown fellow over there, Gadron, offer me their wisdom from time to time. Nabila, here to my right, is like my shadow.”

  Nabila, a reddish-bronze dragon with grey frosting his muzzle, dipped his muzzle in a nod, while Gadron continued to stare as though he craved seeing us burnt to ashes where we stood. Silverruff growled low in his throat under that anger, his hackles rising. I shushed him with my hand on his head.

  “Who invaded this place and why?” I asked, turning back to Bulvang.

  “We’re certain you know this transgressor,” he answered sadly. “The why became obvious once we received his message.”

  “How does this involve us?”

  “Stupid human,” Maher snapped. “Because of you, the egg was stolen. I’d kill you right here and now if Bulvang permitted it. You thought to enter our lands without leave, without due courtesy, and now this evil criminal has taken our most precious and important egg from us. He threatens to kill the hatchling if we don’t turn you over to him.”

  “Ja’Teel.”

  Rygel’s voice, thick with anger, rose above the hissing and mutters of several dragons standing or sitting nearby. Jhet watched me with sadness in his green-gold eyes, lifting his talon to scratch behind his right horn. I suspected he tried to pass me a message. But if he did, I didn’t get it.

  “It was Ja’Teel, wasn’t it?”

  “He has magic, just as you do, Rygel,” Bulvang said. “As we are strangers to such powers no one saw him enter or leave. The egg vanished from her place.”

  Bulvang stood and turned to gesture behind him. We all gaped at a squared-off wide chunk of stone about a rod high and deep, curved into a large bowl at the top. A nest made of smooth granite stones lay within its curved surface. A small extension of the holy fire kept it hot, burning on nothing.

  The nest was empty.

  “She is the next Keeper of the Sacred Flame,” Bulvang said, his tone grieving. “We must get her back, at any cost.”

  “Keeper of the Sacred Flame?” I asked.

  Bulvang nodded toward the great fire, burning on the bare stone, thousands rods high. “Our Sacred Flame.”