Under the Wolf's Shadow

by A. Katie Rose

  “What?” Jhet asked.

  “They’re coming in,” I yelled, running, tripping, running on toward Bulvang, waving my hands in the air. “He’s going too fast, he’ll kill them, he’ll kill them all.”

  “Slow down, girl,” Jhet said, reaching out his talons to seize me in his fist. “What are you talking about?”

  I slammed into his claws and rebounded. Dashing my hair from my face, I clutched his talons, staring out at the dragon king from within my living prison.

  He rose from his throne, his tail lashing and his wings half spread. His green-gold eyes stared down at me as his lips skinned back from his jagged teeth in a fearful grimace.

  “Bulvang,” I said, catching my breath. “They have her. She’s dying. At Rygel’s speed–”

  Bulvang roared.

  Casting back his huge black and grey head, he bellowed at the top of his lungs, flames belching forth to mingle with the Sacred Flame. I, and Kel’Ratan, covered our ears at the deafening sound that echoed throughout the mountain. Jhet drew me closer to his body, protecting me as Silverruff, Thunder and Little Bull howled. Kel’Ratan, his skin ashen, grabbed my hand between Jhet’s talons as though I could walk through them like a ghost and be free.

  “There they are,” said Jhet, opening his fist.

  I stumbled. I staggered up, searching for and finding Kel’Ratan’s shoulder to lean against. I stared straight up, my heart thudding in my chest like a runaway stallion. My breath caught in my chest.

  High above, under the mountain’s peak, the entrance tunnel glowed red and orange. A mere speck of fire, so far away it may equal a star had it sparked silver. The sudden light vanished briefly. It reappeared again, illuminating the darkness like a far-off torch on a windy day. I recognized it for what it was: fire from a dragon’s jaws.

  A black spot shot from the tunnel, shadowed by its own flames.

  I gripped my gold gem in my left hand. Gods please no save them I swear I’ll do anything you ask just save them from harm please I beg you please please please!

  Dragons melted away from the mountain’s center. Wide and fragile wings carried precious bodies toward the mountain’s walls. Pillars suddenly blossomed with life, swarming with so many dragons they appeared as wasps surging over their nests. Many more flew into caves, returning to observe the scene from the safety of stone ledges. Yet a strong number flew in circles against the stone bulwarks of the mountain, watching the drama unfold with avid eyes.

  Bulvang’s roar commanded all to get back, get away, clear the area. Despite his declaration he ruled over a sloppy bunch, he’d been obeyed instantly. All heard him. All obeyed him.

  No dragon flew across the mountain’s center. The walls thrummed with the entire city watching, and perhaps praying, for Rygel to land them safely. A clear path from the top straight to us lay open. I tried for a breath of relief, but lost it again as Kel’Ratan clutched my arm.

  “I don’t like this,” he muttered.

  “They’re going way too fast,” Maher said, towering behind me, his shadow casting me in dense black.

  The tiny dot high above grew larger and larger, dropping like a stone. I recognized Rygel’s dragon body, wings folded flat to his back, his muzzle pointed straight down, his tail unseen behind his bulk. I didn’t see Raine at all. Where was he? On his back? Not even he had the strength to ride a dragon at that speed.

  “He can’t stop in time,” Maher said, his voice near panic.

  “He will,” Jhet replied, stepping forward into my sight.

  I half-glanced at him, afraid to look away from the dragon hurtling at a suicide speed toward the very hard ground. I choked on my breath as I realized the truth. Maher was right: Rygel can’t stop in time.

  I knew something about flying: gravity was stronger than wings. Given speed and time, a living body had only so much space before impact. The cavern floor lay too close, considering his suicidal speed, and within moments he’d pass that critical point of no return. Unless Rygel opened his wings and slowed his fall, like now, he’d crash into one rather large pile of dragon hide and meat. His bones would pulverize into powder. As for Raine–

  We may never even find him in that mess. Ananaya, either.

  “For a human,” Jhet went on, almost unconcerned, “he flies better than any dragon I know.”

  “He’ll kill them all–” Bulvang said, his breath short.

  The point of no return passed Rygel in a flash. I think my heart ceased beating as Rygel’s body crossed the safe stopping limit. He didn’t slow his suicidal rush. My hands crept up to cover my mouth to prevent a wild scream of grief. They’re dead, they’re dead–Oh, gods–

  Maher’s voice sounded hoarse. “Stop, damn you–”

  Rygel’s wings snapped out. Those fragile, leathery, yet stronger than steel limbs cupped the air, slowing his suicidal drop. His incredibly fast descent turned into a soar, riding on the warm thermals rising from the Sacred Flame. Had he a thousand rods to spare, he’d drop onto the ground like an faery on a flower petal.

  But he didn’t have a thousand rods. I dared guess he’d have maybe fifty. To my eye, he still fell too fast–too fast by half. I bit my lip and clutched Kel’Ratan’s arm.

  Still airborne, he reared back, his left front leg rising up and out, his right talon held tight to his breast. As mighty as those wings were, they slowed him down, yet the stone floor rose toward him at an incredible speed. Was he too late? He’s too late, I know he is–was he too late? I dared not shut my eyes, dared not to breathe. Kel’Ratan gripped my shoulder hard but I felt no pain.

  I caught a flashing glimpse of black inside Rygel’s right, tightly curled talons. Raine.

  Rygel hit the ground with his powerful hind legs and tail first. Reversing his front talons, he held his right fist, Raine contained within it, high and out of harm’s way as he sought to catch his front end on his sturdy left leg. But, his momentum drove him muzzle and chest first into the stone, his left leg buckling beneath him. He continued to slide, out of control, skidding across the unrelenting rock on his chest and belly, his long neck extended outward.

  Clouds of rock dust swirled up, all but concealing him within their dense depths. His hulking shadow, half-hidden by thick tendrils of fog, slid across rock and pebbles. The sound of dragon hide against rock eerily magnified in my ears as my sight diminished. Still out of control, Rygel’s body slewed sideways, a living mountain of flesh cascading toward me. If I didn’t move, his huge frame might well crush me under it.

  He’s gonna sport one hell of a road-rash, I thought, near hysteria.

  Despite Kel’Ratan tugging on my arm, urging me to get out of the way, I refused. I stood silent, waiting, as the massive dragon surged like a tidal wave toward me. Choking rock dust boiled up and out, almost concealing Rygel’s body. Slowly, too slowly, his momentum let up, and allowed him to plow, nose-first, into the solid rock beside Bulvang’s throne. There he lay, amid the swirling dust, limp, seemingly lifeless, his hind leg less than a foot from my boots.

  Silence descended. I heard nothing, not even dragons or wolves or my own breathing. The combination of grime and absolute panic shut down my throat. I dared not speak, dared not even cough, for fear of breaking the spell. Should I move, they’d be dead, I just knew they’d die because I moved. Were they alive?

  “He did it!” Jhet screamed, flames bursting from his jaws. “He bloody did it!”

  I blinked tears and stinging grit away from my eyes, Kel’Ratan’s grip on my shoulder tightening. That hurt, I thought absently, hardly feeling the pain. The dirt swirled so thick, I could scarcely see through it.

  Slowly, the fog lifted in tendrils. Rygel’s vast body lay still, his wings slowly drifting downward, his tail twitching at its spade tip. The only sign of life I might recognize. I gasped, choking, stumbling forward. Kel’Ratan’s hand fell away. The swirling dust cleared–

  Rygel held Ananaya and Raine up, away from his crash, safe, alive, and unharmed.

  “Raine!”
I screamed, running toward them, stumbling, catching myself and running on. I felt Silverruff at my side, his shoulder thumping mine. By the sounds I heard, Kel’Ratan, Thunder and Little Bull followed tight on my heels. Bulvang roared orders.

  “Healers!” he bellowed. “Has she hatched? I think she’s hatched. She’ll need healers, heat, food, chop chop, damn you! Get them down, Rygel, quickly, quickly.”

  Rygel slowly lowered Raine to ground level, his neck and muzzle still outstretched. His wings, drooping like massive tents, collapsed and buried me, Kel’Ratan and the wolves under them. I fought like one possessed, punching at the billowing mass, running out from under.

  I gasped, passing his shoulder, running along the length of his right arm, nonsense prayers running through my head: let them live, let them live, let them live.

  Rygel opened his fist. Raine staggered off his palm and onto solid ground. His jet fur oozed blood; great red rents lay across his back and ribs. Blood trickled from a wound on his shoulder, and he cocked his head awkwardly to the side. His jaws–they didn’t look right. They gaped wide, wet drool coating his cheeks and running down his chest. Just as his legs buckled, I caught a rapid there and gone flash of silver before he went down.

  “Raine–” I gasped, unable to say more.

  “Where is she?” Bulvang roared, towering over me, his wide-spread wings casting us all in shadow. Fire gleamed like flashes of lightning. “Damn it, where is–”

  “She’s in his ruddy mouth.”

  Kel’Ratan’s stunned words shocked Bulvang, Jhet, Maher and any dragon within the vicinity into silence. Awe drew over my mind, my senses. Of course. Oh, how sensible and how simple. He kept her from freezing to death by putting her in the warmest place possible: his own mouth.

  I bolted forward. Ignoring Raine’s wild eyes and blood-coated fur, I seized his jaws and yanked them apart. I stared in shock, unbelieving, stunned. The small silver Keeper rested unharmed within his warm wet saliva. A strange thought bypassed my current panic and delved to the front of my consciousness: Upon the shock of Rygel’s crash, how had Raine prevented his jaws from clamping shut? Whenever I fell on my butt, my teeth never failed to click together on my tongue. How had Raine not shut his massive jaws on her frail body and crushed her instantly?

  Because he’s Raine.

  She lay, asleep or unconscious, on his tongue, nestled neatly between his rows of gleaming white teeth. As though she nested still in her egg, her body was curled into a ball, limbs, tail and wings tucked close. Only her head, tiny silver horns adorning it, reclined against his lower fang.

  He lay on his belly, gasping. His legs splayed wide and his chin rested on the stony ground. His grey eyes rolled in their sockets, white around the edges like a slaughtered calf’s. His huge tail rose and fell in a half-hearted wag of greeting.

  Raine growled. I didn’t understand wolf. But long ago I learned to listen with my love and not my ears. Take her.

  She was a big baby, almost as large as

  me. Inching my hands between her body and his pink tongue, I lifted her dead weight into my arms. I staggered back under the burden as Raine shut his jaws with a gust of great relief. Kel’Ratan, suddenly at my side, helped me support her awful weight.

  “Is she dead?” Bulvang screamed. “She’s not moving, is she dead?”

  At his cry, panic raced through the dragons like a wildfire through dead brush. Cries of grief rose from all around as dragons flew and flamed, creating absolute chaos. Smoke and dust rose in clouds, choking and blinding. Silverruff, Thunder at his side, raced past Bulvang’s throne, dodging dragon legs and tails to Raine. Little Bull galloped past them to where Rygel still lay, silent and still, his eyes shut. Little Bull, whining anxiously, danced on his hind legs to reach and lick his closed eyelids.

  I bent my head to Ananaya, shutting out the noise and shrieks, creating from deep within a calm I didn’t feel. Was that a heartbeat I heard? Yes. I heard it. I listened to the distinct thud-thump, thud-thump of her slow heartbeat. Deep in my arms, lying against my breasts, her horned head on my shoulder, I felt the rise and fall of her chest. She mewled, a tiny, pain-racked sound, and tried to lift her muzzle.

  “She’s alive.”

  “What?”

  Over the noise and wings and cries and flames, Bulvang hadn’t heard me. I tossed my hair from my eyes with a jerk of my head, clutching that baby tight to me as though she were my own child. I raised my face to the center of the mountain, crying, laughing, triumphant. I screamed.

  “She’s alive!”

  Silence prevailed, dropping suddenly as though a massive magic hand dropped down to shut every muzzle.

  “She’s–” Bulvang whispered, smoke pouring from his gaping mouth and nostrils. “–she’s alive. She’s alive!”

  Jhet shouldered his sire and king aside, rushing down on me like a runaway bull and bellowing orders at the top of his lungs. “Where are those healers? Get them here this instant. Food! I need meat and lots of it. Clear the way to her nest, damn you. Give me room, you idiots, move!”

  Bulvang, Maher, Gadron and any other dragon nearby swiftly cleared a path for him. Others flew away in obedience to his commands, but the area around Rygel’s body, Raine, Kel’Ratan, me and the wolves cleared instantly. Dragons backed off or took to the air, leaving the immediate area of the Sacred Flame empty.

  “Give her to me.”

  Jhet’s voice, soft yet commanding, spoke from above my head. His right talon extended, palm up, less than a foot’s length above the ground and inches from my legs. A soft spot with which to lay an infant dragon, I thought, approving.

  With Kel’Ratan’s help, I settled her into Jhet’s hand. She stirred, crying aloud, her tail trying to lash. I caught it, like a thick rope, and tucked its spade under her forelimbs. “Bye, baby,” I whispered as Jhet took her away.

  In three-legged leaping hops and jumps, wings flared, Jhet raced to the hot nest with his patient. A small swarm of dragons, some carrying steaming meat, others small vials, closed upon him. Their huge bodies shielded him and Ananaya from my sight. Unable to help myself, I sent up a silent prayer for her life and safety, twirling my gold-washed jewel in my fingers.

  Raine’s soft groan swung me around. In his human form, he sought to stagger to his feet. With Silverruff and Thunder under his arms, supporting him, his legs buckled once more before he managed to make them work. I dropped my jewel to my coat and lunged for him.

  “Is she–all right?” he asked, staggering sideways, caught on Thunder’s massive weight. “Ananaya. Ananaya!”

  Kel’Ratan rushed forward to help as Silverruff leaned against his right hip, not permitting him to fall. Thunder shoved hard with his shoulder, catching Raine’s body before his knees buckled again. He all but collapsed, his legs refusing to work. Only the support of the wolves kept him upright. I grabbed his brawny arms, coated with blood, and pushed back with all my strength to keep him straight and on his feet.

  “Rygel,” he asked, his weird eyes rolling around, bloodshot and haunted. “Where’s Rygel? Ananaya!”

  “He’s right here,” Bulvang said, towering over us. “Your brother is fine. Ananaya lives.”

  At the king’s words, Raine’s eyes cleared. Catching his balance with an effort, he shook his head, and popped his obviously aching jaw. He blinked, once, twice, and his back straightened. His balance and skilled coordination returned, no longer needing our support. Silverruff and Thunder stepped away from him, yet remained close by in case the moment was just that. Kel’Ratan hovered like a mother hen, his red mustache bristling.

  “Gods,” Raine choked, stumbling toward his brother’s head as it lay flat against the hard stone floor of the cave. “Rygel. Rygel.”

  Shedding blood from his torn jacket, Raine walked a not quite straight line toward Rygel’s massive muzzle. Me, Kel’Ratan, Silverruff and Thunder surrounded him like bodyguards, prepared should he fall. Little Bull, still trying to minister to his friend, sat back, panting with anxiet
y.

  At the sound of Raine’s voice, Rygel’s right green-gold eye rolled around and rested on us with exhausted amusement. “I did it, braud,” he mumbled. “I did it.”

  “You’re the best, old man,” Raine murmured, his tone slurred with pain. He rested against Rygel’s huge shoulder and bowed his head, his hair hanging in his eyes as though in great agony. “You did me proud.”

  “Raine, you’re hurt.”

  Raine lifted his head. He winked at me, his weird eyes warm, weary and filled with pain. “I reckon I’ll live, love,” he murmured.

  “What happened out there?”

  Above us, Rygel’s body changed. Where his torn yet magnificent bronze dragon slowly rose from his crashed position, a bleeding, exhausted young man with a wild wheaten mane stood, swaying, in his place. Raine staggered when Rygel’s dragon vanished, almost falling to the stone floor. He maintained his fragile equilibrium with an effort, though it took the help of both me and two wolves to keep it there.

  Kel’Ratan caught Rygel as he fell.

  “Jhet!” Bulvang roared. “What’s her prognosis?”

  Jhet didn’t answer. Surrounded by dragons, his grey-bronze bulk all but vanished behind them. His horned head didn’t rise from the nest and the fragile life upon it to answer his king.

  “I gave her what strength I could, Majesty,” Raine said, his wounds, blood-loss and exhaustion overcoming him at last. His head dropped suddenly as his shoulders rounded with exhaustion. He slumped.

  He staggered sideways, into me. Though I weighed a quarter of what he did and had nothing of his strength, I caught his weight against my body. He dragged me down, my knees threatening to crumble until Silverruff rushed in and shoved hard with his body on Raine’s hip. Between us, Raine stood on his feet, bleeding, his oily hair hanging across his face.

  With my support on one side, Silverruff on the other, he tried to face the dragon King. “Majesty?” He slurred the title.

  “She’s alive because of you,” Bulvang said, his tone soft. “I’d have never thought you’d–well, keep her warm, that way. But, it worked. I don’t mean to offend, truly I don’t. The situation is still critical, however. She may still die.”