Dragon Strike

by E. E. Knight

“You have influence even with theirs?”

  “I’ve worked hard to have all the thralls come to me with their problems. Thralls know their owners better than their families, you know.”

  “I thought you rewarded them out of a kind heart,” the Copper said. It would be hard to say whether he was disappointed, impressed, or some mix of both.

  She snorted. “They’re a tool, like claws, like tongue, like feasts.”

  “Like mating?” He half hoped she would lie to him.

  She cocked her head. “Not ours, my love.”

  As the thralls cleared away the meal he put his neck across hers. Nilrasha tickled him with her griff and began to sing.

  These were his favorite moments. He felt like a hatchling again, warm against his mother—or at least that’s how he imagined a hatchling felt. He’d had only one brief moment with his own . . .

  Chapter 10

  They gave him a comfortable nook out of the wind that couldn’t quite be called a cave, but it had a fine view of the mountains to the south, soft bracken to rest upon, and a windbreak. It smelled faintly of dragon, but not DharSii. AuRon found an old white scale, lost under the bracken and tinged with yellow and red fissures.

  He idled for a night and a day. A pair of blighters wearing leather reinforced with dragonscale at the knees, shoulders, and elbows, well groomed save that they were barefoot, brought him a cartload of hams and sausages of assorted shapes and flavorings.

  “More?” one asked in intelligible, if not intelligent, Drakine.

  AuRon broke one open, sniffed carefully, tested it with his tongue, then took a taste. It seemed wholesome.

  “This will do for now.”

  He ate lightly, just in case.

  It was pleasant to be at this altitude. Back in the north, ice and snow would be thick in this fissure. He had just enough energy to find a cool stream for drinking and bathing.

  When he returned from his bath he heard the blighters calling, blowing a horn and rattling a ring of metal against a rod.

  He snuck up from downwind and startled them. It was good to keep in practice, but with the noise they made, he had little difficulty.

  “Come, come. Eat! Soon she see you.”

  They had an offering in the form of some cooked organmeats, swimming in butter. He hadn’t had butter in years, but once again forced himself to politely nibble.

  A third hominid, this one a human, watched from a distance. He looked too stout to be much used to hiking up and down mountains, but ambled off as soon as they began their journey down the ridge.

  The blighters led him down toward the scaffold-shrouded hillside. There was an arched door at the end of the path, up a short rocky zigzag of stairs through a sort of wild garden, but it was too small for a dragon to squeeze through, though AuRon thought he might just make it if supplied with a little more butter to grease the passage.

  Instead the blighters led him off down a gravel road and he smelled horses. A small field beneath the ear and cheekbone on the great face held bright green grass and a few horses, either the ones who’d pulled the Queen’s chariot or cousins of theirs.

  The blighters led him inside a sort of stone barn. He found the Red Queen in the stables, examining one of her horses’ feet with a dwarf wider than he was tall, clad in a heavy leather apron and belt sagging under the weight of tools. The dwarf’s sideburns were thick with glowing moss, brighter than any species AuRon had yet seen, and the rest of it showed no evidence of gold dust or other decor. The dwarf must have cared only about proper illumination for his work.

  The Red Queen wore a sort of thick red canvas cloak that reminded AuRon of those little cups at the end of handles that hominids used to snuff candles. She simply wore a light scarf about her face this time. AuRon found himself frozen in his tracks by a pair of startling blue eyes, heavily blackened about the rims with stenciling, which only drew attention to their size and clarity.

  She said something quietly to the dwarf, who nodded.

  The Red Queen looked at him and the corners of her eyes crinkled. He guessed she smiled. “It never hurts to pay attention to details.”

  “At your service, Great Queen,” AuRon said, remembering DharSii’s phrasing.

  She took him farther into the mountain. The passages were wide, high, and airy—AuRon recognized dwarf workmanship when he saw it, though there was none of the impressive decor of the Chartered Company.

  “Details, AuRon, details. Of course there are always more than can be seen to. The trouble is, we can’t be easily in six places at once.”

  She led him to a sort of domed chamber at the bottom of a divided staircase with a wall-fountain bubbling between the balustrades and more stairs descending back into the mountain from the chamber. Light came in, soft and diffuse, from twin slits in narrowing shafts, which AuRon suspected were nostrils. “Won’t you excuse me for a moment? You may wish to admire the fountain, or refresh yourself at it.”

  AuRon contented himself with looking at the stonecraft. The back of the fountain was a mosaic of precisely measured square shapes, tipped sideways to be diamonds. They were arranged in an intricate design, rather thicker at the bottom and narrowing at the top. All he could think was that it was some highly stylized depiction of a mountain.

  “Can you believe the blighters made that? It’s a relic of Old Uldam. Yes, even the blighters once claimed this mountain as their own. But they didn’t keep it long enough to make many exterior alterations, or we might have fangs to remove from the mountain-face.”

  She’d changed her wardrobe into a simple long dress, as spare as her previous outfit had been elaborate. Three silver brooches, elongated triangles, held it about her. He’d been right. Her figure was spare, but it just drew attention to her head. A translucent mask of swirling crystal cut to resemble—oh, he couldn’t say—smoothed ice hid her face now. A light silk wrap of black with a hint of glittering gold covered her hair and neck.

  She carried a lighter version of her previous mask. This one was ivory colored and had the appearance of stiffened, intricately sewn lace, with the same smile on one side and frown on the other.

  “Red outdoors, black indoors, as simple as that.”

  AuRon regretted losing the magic of those brilliant eyes and wondered why the game to hide her features? Of course, if no one ever had a good look at you, they wouldn’t know if you were aging or not, sick or not, or if perhaps you’d been replaced by another. He’d been told in his visit to the East that some monarchs had three or four identical wagon-chambers, to make assassination more difficult or so that none of their underlings might know whether their actual ruler or some underling was on his way.

  “You believe in simplicity, Great Queen?”

  “Life for us is complex. The calculations we commit before making a move sometimes take days or weeks, so we must keep the rest of our life as spare as possible. But we still must make an appearance.

  “We are glad you could see that fountain, AuRon. We often pause by it and remind ourselves of the rises and falls of nations before Ghioz. Civilization building is long, weary work. I’ve raised a city of polished marble where once there were mud-and-straw huts.”

  “Are you a sorcerer who can turn air into stone?”

  “Not that kind of sorcerer. Anklamere’s way was a cheat. But we do know the secret of creation. The creation of anything is an act of will and mind.”

  She led him down the stairs and to another gallery in the mountain-face, much better lit than the one above. Her footfalls on the stairs were so light he wondered if he imagined them. This one he guessed was the statue’s mouth. He couldn’t see much, because of scaffolding and canvas in the way, but without the working equipment he guessed it would be a commanding view.

  “Those trees down there, obviously they exist in the physical world. But isn’t our concept of those trees flexible? The architecture of the imagination, as that dwarf put it. It’s called the Queen’s Wood, so the trees are ours. We can imagine the trees as sh
eltering game birds, or being cut down and made into scaffolding for another statue. There is enormous power in audacity. Your little ‘Isle of Ice’—as we believe it’s called on the Hypatian maps. We could just as easily name it Aurontos and appoint you our governor. The world entire belongs to us in our imagination. Life is slowly filling in the details.”

  AuRon wondered if she’d already sold the island to a would-be titleor.

  “There are those who would dispute my claim,” AuRon said. “And yours, Great Queen.”

  Apparently, it never hurt to imitate DharSii’s manner. She tipped her head to him in acknowledgment of the compliment.

  “Oh, we can outwait them. We can afford to be patient. If no other solution presents itself, we simply wait a generation or two. How soon they forget.”

  “Dragons live a long time,” AuRon said.

  “Not even those trees will outlast us, dragon. The Red Queen is eternal.”

  “You pass the title down to your daughter along with your beliefs?”

  “Nothing so mundane. We simply can’t be bothered to die. Too much undone in this world. Your wizard and men like him, they drop off and leave their work hardly begun.”

  “He was hardly my wizard. I regretted his life, not his death.”

  She spun the mask around to the frowning face. “Be careful, AuRon son of AuRel. Make an enemy of us and you make an enemy forever.”

  “Was he some titleor of yours, Great Queen?”

  “No. The circle of men is folly. We are not so stupid as to not recognize the value of elves, dwarves—even blighters. We are happy to stamp out such nonsense. When some of his riders sought refuge here after his fall we took them in, but as soon as they started proselytizing that Man’s First Destiny nonsense, we had their heads struck off. Little loss.

  “We find our greatest challenge is in finding worthy intelligences to be our titleors. Oh, plenty want the title, but few the labor that goes with it. Then there are those who are diligent but require constant instruction or who are too hidebound by the teachings of their temples to do what is necessary to be effective.”

  “How do you measure ‘effective’?”

  “There is only one sure measure, dragon. Coin and goods of value. I learned long ago that men will try to substitute almost anything for coin: fair words, professions of love, promises of loyalty, sad stories, flattery, tears—yes, they will offer up all that, rivers of it, raging torrents, and all of it gathered together weighs as much as mist on a cattle-scale. It is the one who brings a chest of coin who has the ability to rise.”

  “You must have much coin.”

  “I’m not a dragon who piles it in a hoard. Let me give you some advice, AuRon. Put your gold to work. It is like seed. Pour it into the right ground and it will sprout tenfold. No, I do not have the great treasure-chambers that some believe reside under this mountain. What comes in goes out again, in the form of small presents to those who apply. A man comes to me and says he wishes to establish himself as a horse-breeder, I give him coin to buy his broodmares and land. True, there are those I never see again. But there are others who return in a few years with what I gave them raised tenfold. I offer a title. Then I see them again when they would have their son set up as a captain of one of my cavalry squadrons, or a daughter who could be most advantageously married with a larger dowry. Over his lifetime of labor, I see my gold grown a hundred times or more.”

  “I’m afraid dragons aren’t much for such diligent labor, Great Queen.”

  “But they can talk to other dragons. We do have some dragons you might help us with,” she mused. “We believe your face would be unknown to them.”

  “Who would that be?”

  “Do you know the Lower World well? I wish for an emissary to the Lavadome.”

  “Lavadome? I’ve heard the word. A dwarven interpretation of a blighter myth, I thought.”

  “Oh, it’s real enough. We don’t know much of the Lower World, as you call it, but then we don’t determine it would profit Ghioz to go to the effort to control it. In our calculation, there’s little enough reward down there. Tunnels filled with nothing but dark.”

  “Is there coin in bearing your messages?”

  “Yes. We wish to show you some of our chief titleors. If you could be obliged to accompany us to conference.

  “You picked a fortunate time to arrive. Some of my northerly allies have come south to spend the season with me and miss the worst of the ice and snow, and Ghioz is soon celebrating the sun’s death and rebirth, a most worthy of occasions, we think.”

  He followed her into some rougher tunnels. He smelled animal coops, cooking, spices, and ranker odors.

  She led him down a passage that sloped rather precipitously, but the floor-stones were set in such a way that claws, or feet, had sound purchase. Out through a wide arcing set of doors, AuRon realized they’d come straight through the mountain and now stood beneath the great face with all the scaffolding. He had to duck his head to pass under some of it.

  The trees and stones here had been arranged, and assisted by waxed canvas, in such a way that he could hardly tell whether he was inside or out. The pocket of mountain and the vast chunks of what had once been the dwarf’s beard gave the appearance of walls, the great boles pillars, and the interlaced trees above a roof. Yet there were pools and streams, flower beds and fern-patches, and even sweet-smelling fruit trees scattered about the vast arena. Someone had cut the fallen rocks to provide rude seats and stairs to have access.

  He suspected the area could have held many hundreds or a thousand, but at the moment there were some score, in little groups of threes and fives.

  “Thank you for holding your business until a new day. We appreciate your patience,” the Red Queen announced in Parl.

  AuRon surveyed the faces. Mostly human, though he saw a few elves, their tresses resembling dried seaweed, fall leaves, and in one case a cascade of pumpkin seeds. Dwarves, also with faces veiled and beards alight with glowing moss reflecting gold dust and gemstones—very rich dwarves, it seemed. Five blighters squatted together on a single stone, devouring a basket of apples as they waited.

  The largest contingent seemed to be men with dark hair and thin mustaches and beards carefully trimmed and shaped and beaded. AuRon recognized their garb. They were Ironriders of various tribes. He remembered them as being described as very dangerous to those unfortunate enough to live within raiding distance during those rare intervals when they weren’t warring with each other over pasturage and nomadic pathways.

  One of the dwarves, particularly rotund, leaned on a thick, gnarled stick. Something about the pose tugged at old memories. What was the name of that thieving dwarf who’d tried to blame him? Sekyw.

  Interesting that he’d found his way into the Red Queen’s court.

  “Stay near the entrance for the moment, AuRon. There are ceremonies and pleasantries we must endure. Such rituals have their purpose, but they weary after a twelvescore or two.”

  AuRon watched her mount a low platform and stand. Each of those at the conference lined up to greet and speak to her. Part of their tradition involved dipping hands in a cistern of water and drying them on a white cloth before meeting at the hands. With little to do but observe, he noticed that some she gripped by both hands, some only one, sometimes they crossed arms so right hand met right hand and left hand met left.

  The Ironriders simply touched their foreheads to the hem of her dress.

  Then they spoke. The Red Queen seemed conversant in many tongues. She rarely spoke at any length. When quarrels broke out she silenced them immediately.

  Servants, human and blighter, brought food and drink around.

  Finally she waved him over.

  “This is AuRon, a prince of dragons out of the north,” she said. “We think he may serve as a suitable emissary to the dragons of the Lavadome.”

  “I knew this dragon when he was but a wingless drake, I believe, my queen,” Sekyw said. “We crossed the plains together in
the traveling towers. I know him to be trustworthy.” Sekyw shot a guilty glance at AuRon. “He did the dwarves great service in battle. He is loyal to his friends, very loyal.”

  “Ghioz looks everywhere for friendship,” the Red Queen said.

  The Ironriders said something in a tongue AuRon did not know, but he recognized the Parl word for dragons.

  “Yes, yes, everyone must have dragons to accomplish their goal. That is the difficulty. There are so few, at least who will act with intelligence. Remember the stupidity of the ones used to human direction, how easily they died when left to their own devices in conquering the Chushmereamae Archipelago. I have sent you roc-riders for scouting, and that will have to do.

  “So, what will it be, AuRon? I offer you a title, if you will take it. You’ll find the duties light and our friendship worth thrice the pittance we ask in return.”

  “It is a poor island, Great Queen. It offers little except fish and seal-meat.”

  “But it does have dragons. Dragons, being intelligent, powerful, and winged, are the most useful of allies.”

  “Join? I cannot make up my mind about so important a decision without consulting others. My hatchlings, however, need coin, and need it soon if they are to grow up strong.”

  “Then you will find us a generous commissioner. We need a messenger to go to your kind in the Lavadome and offer them friendship. Through blunder and misunderstanding, we have fought at the Sloai horsedowns and in Bant. We were considering sending another as emissary, but his past in the Lavadome might carry along prejudice against our intent. You, as a fresh face, could be fairly heard.”

  “What would your message be, Great Queen?”

  “The friendliest of messages. Only that there be a dialogue between worlds, upper and lower, so that we might settle disputes without bloodshed.”

  “Your terms?”

  “Upon a dragon from the Lavadome attending as an ambassador to my court, and the appointment of an ambassador from Ghioz to the Lavadome, and the establishment of communications each way, we will present to you a ransom in pure gold coin.”