by Jill Nojack
Another human male in a version of elvin attire moved closer to the gate, shouting, "What's wrong with you? Why would you do something like that?"
The response was an arrow to the chest.
People scrambled down the path, frantic, some stepping over others, some stopping to help the fallen.
Shan smiled to himself as the man who had challenged the elves slowly bled to death outside the compound.
***
An ambulance arrived and drove directly to the injured man, opening the back door away from the direction of the fortress. It also picked up the one with the arrow through his chest, but he was cold now, beyond help.
After the ambulance sped away, a white van with a satellite transmitter on top drove cautiously up the road. It stopped just outside arrow range. Once it was parked, the TV crew disembarked. The cameraman pointed his camera toward the fortress gate while the sound technician pointed a long-range mic in the same direction. The reporter straightened his tie and lifted a megaphone.
"We want to talk to you. You fired on your fans today."
There was no response from the fortress. Nothing stirred.
"Please, we only want to talk. Tell us why you attacked. We want to understand."
The Elder appeared on the catwalk above the gate, holding onto his staff, his appearance composed and majestic, his long brown hair bound tightly with a leather cord in an elvin braid that he had pulled over his left shoulder. He held the elder's staff in his other hand. It ended at his eye level in a carved insignia of his office. He was impressive in any culture.
"The elves have grown tired of human interference. We've asked you to leave us alone in the past, and yet you cannot even keep your people from camping outside our gates. Now, perhaps, you will."
The live feed went out to Paris and was rebroadcast to the world within minutes.
When she got home from school, a young queen's heart raced wildly as she watched the news report.
***
After listening to his father's speech from behind the crowd of riders and warriors gathered at the gate, Avenall hurried back to the stable.
He used all of his power to remain in each of the dragon's minds at the same time. He imagined for them a long flight over the forest, then over the seas, then landing in a new world where there would be no elves and no dragon riders. He withdrew at last, after each of the dragons had agreed to take the journey. Although they could not communicate with language, they understood his emotion and the pictures he made for them.
Avenall climbed to the loft and nearly collapsed from fatigue. It had tired him enormously to be with all the dragons at once. He wanted to take them away now, but it would be safer to leave at night, and he would be better prepared if he was able to get a little sleep. He hoped the TV crew outside the gates had been wise enough to go away after his father's pronouncement.
He now believed that the elves would soon be going to war, but it would be a foolish war they could not win. What spirit of self-destruction possessed them? Did they wish to be destroyed? No war was a good war, but this one must be prevented.
***
Avenall woke refreshed at dusk. He fed the dragons and then urged them to eat more when they'd finished. They would need to store as much energy for the flight as they could. It would be many days before they arrived in the queen's land. He still was not sure how they would rest or feed on the journey. If they could not easily feed from the sea and rest without the availability of land, they'd have to turn back. And then where would he go? He would no longer have a home, only the promise of death in any elvin compound he arrived at. And where could he hide the dragons in his own land that the elves could not recapture them?
He prepared one saddle for his personal use and set it down near Fein's stall. He placed saddles near the smaller dragons as well, but these he loaded with packs containing food, furs, and his meager possessions. He slipped out of the stable and into the armory, where he took as many waterskins as he could carry. It would not be enough water for the dragons, but they could drink the brine of the oceans for their needs. Their stomachs would not reject it like his would.
All of the dragons but Mer accepted their burden without complaint. In Mer, he sensed discomfort with the new sensation of weight on his back and also a fear of the vast expanse of ocean he had seen when Avenall shared his mind. Avenall knew it would tax him, but he quickly shared with Mer the vision in Fein's memories of the ocean where the other dragons had flown when the fae were freed. Mer calmed with Fein's memories of the freedom he experienced so far away from stables and cages.
"What are you doing, boy?" someone said behind him. He turned, and Evrard stood there, glaring at the saddled dragons, hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to act.
Inside, Avenall tensed with fear. On the outside, he stood tall with bravado. "Nothing that concerns you, Dragon Rider." The dragons, still tenuously connected to his thoughts, shifted restlessly in their stalls.
He was upset to see Evrard there, just when he thought they would escape without challenge. He felt Fein prepare for conflict. He was having trouble maintaining the ease he needed to keep his charges calm.
He might as well take a chance. He'd already prepared to leave everything he'd ever known behind. His treason would soon earn him a sentence of death. He had nothing else to lose.
He lowered his head, took a deep breath, blew it out quickly, then looked directly into the Dragon Rider's eyes. As he did, he aggressively pushed a suggestion in a way he would never do with dragons. Evrard's expression went blank, then he turned and walked out of the stable toward the armory, where he disappeared inside.
Avenall hoped the rider was now lying on the weapon-building table fast asleep. It would allow them more time to get away before the alarm was raised.
Avenall led the dragons out of the stable, then asked Fein to bend down so that he could mount. He'd never mounted a dragon before. A Dragon Tender's place is on the ground. He gasped as the dragons took the sky and the compound where he'd lived all his life fell away from him forever.
***
Avenall looked out to the horizon and saw only darkness ahead beneath the stars, the sky meeting the water in a dark blur far in the distance. He borrowed Fein's superior sight to guide them toward a stony beach on a small island. He didn't know if they would see land again soon. When he was honest with himself, he didn't know if they would ever see land again.
They'd been flying for several hours, and he was glad that the dragons still weren't showing signs of tiring. He hoped they'd landed unnoticed so they could remain here for the night and continue on in the morning. It would take nearly a full span of days to reach the American queen after they set off across the sea.
Although he knew the world was wider than the small forest in which he had spent his entire life, he still could not comprehend the vastness of it. The water seemed to go on forever as he looked out away from the land.
Mer bumped his head against Avenall's back. The tap was not meant to cause harm, but it was strong enough that it nearly sent him sprawling. He peered into the young dragon's mind and immediately understood that he wanted his saddle removed. Avenall undid the cinch and lifted the saddle off. Mer quickly sprawled over onto his side to scratch his back against the stony ground.
Avenall busied himself removing all of the saddles and looked to the dragons, sending an image of Fein pulling fish from the sea with his massive jaws. As he pictured it, the dragons took flight as one, each of them skimming out over the seas and then diving like ducks to come up again with a wriggling fish clenched between their teeth. They returned to the rock and dropped their dinners, going back for more until there was a moving silver mass near where each of them landed.
Avenall looked longingly at the fish as the dragons filled their bellies, wishing he had a fire and a fishing line for himself. He hadn't meant to share this thought with the dragons, but Fein turned toward a rocky cleft where a cache of vegetation had caught and dried. The
dragon breathed a burst of fire and the dried vegetation began to burn. Avenall quickly moved to fan it to greater flame. Fein tossed a fish from his pile toward him. Avenall wondered whose mind was in whose as he gathered strands of damp seaweed to wrap his fish so that it didn't blacken in the coals.
He slept well that night with a full stomach.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Sea Cruise
They stopped to feed the next day after many long hours of flight. The younger dragons brought fish they tossed to Fein as he circled their hunting ground. He could not join them because he carried Avenall. Avenall felt bad about that, but it is a rare elf who learns to swim. If he ever got the chance, he would gladly take it up: he'd followed the dragons' minds into the sea as they streaked through the water, and there was a clear sense of joy as they swam. He silently apologized to Fein for preventing him from joining the others in their pleasure.
Avenall shivered and wrapped himself tighter into the furs he wore for warmth. The cold crept into his bones. The inner fire of the dragons warmed them, but he was not built for long exposure to this weather. As he shivered, he felt a spike of emotion from the dragon beneath him.
Avenall had thought he understood the vastness of the ocean before they set off from the island that morning, but now, twelve hours into their flight, he felt the tired ache in the dragons' wings. He shared their urge to sleep and rest from the long voyage. But there was nowhere to rest. No land, no drift, nothing solid where they could sleep before continuing.
When the dragons finished feeding, Fein led them again through the sky, but in a different direction than before. Confused, Avenall reached for the dragon's mind and was surprised to see an image of himself there, huddled beneath his furs, face pale and pinched with the cold. Fein sent him a thought of warmth as he bore left, away from their original path, just as the sun began to set. A few hours later, the cold was less severe and he was able to find a little sleep sprawled forward onto the dragon's wide neck.
Night had given way to dawn when he sensed a change in the unending blue in Fein's mind. The dragon had spotted something on the horizon, something that was not the sea. It was small, but it was getting bigger. Avenall was soon able to see the speck on the horizon with his own eyes. Fein turned toward the object, and Avenall relinquished his suggestion to hold back, letting the dragon take the lead. He knew they all needed a place to rest.
The speck on the horizon grew closer swiftly. Soon, Avenall could make out the shape of a boat. One much larger than any of his people had described in their stories. It was a floating castle with hundreds of people on the roof. As Avenall watched, some of them spotted the dragons and rushed to the side of the ship where the dragons approached.
Avenall was only a little concerned for the safety of these people. As long as they did not attack or threaten the dragons, there was little danger. But he was not sure that landing on such a vessel was a good idea. Was it a ship of war? He had no way of knowing.
He sent a suggestion to Fein to fly in circles around the ship while he looked for the best place to land. At the highest level, there was a pool of water next to a large round chimney from which waves of heat disturbed the air. In rows around the pool, humans reclined, some holding books. Others appeared to be sleeping. It was the least populated area, and the easiest one on which to land. He directed the younger dragons to make another circuit around the ship while he guided Fein to land atop the chimney.
As Fein headed for the suggested perch, one of the reclining men below spotted him, and started calling out to the people around him, "hey, dragons...there's dragons!"
The others looked where he pointed, gathered up their possessions hurriedly, and ran as a group down the stairs leading away from the upper deck of the boat. Some looked back over their shoulders in fear. Avenall would have tried to assure them that dragons are not aggressive by nature, but in this case, he was glad they ran away. His dragons were, although he did not like to think of them as such, battle-trained. They were also tired and moody after their long flight. Avenall didn't need anyone frightening them into defensive behavior.
Fein perched on the chimney until the last of the humans had gone. Then he glided smoothly from his perch to the deck, where Avenall dismounted. Fein moved then to the pool and dipped his snout to take a drink. He drew it back quickly, letting the water he'd sucked up dribble out between his teeth. He snorted, and a whiff of smoke curled out, but he kept his flame under control.
Avenall bent to the pool and cupped his hands to bring some of the water to his lips. He dipped his tongue into it and immediately uncupped his hands in disgust. There was something wrong with this water. He removed a waterskin from Fein's saddle and took a long drink to rid himself of the awful taste. He patted the dragon's neck and spoke soothingly. "This water is spoiled, my friend. You will need to continue drinking from the sea."
Avenall looked to the sky and directed his thoughts toward the rest of the dragons, who were still making a tight circle high above his head. They slowly circled down to claim their places on the boat. Mer perched on the chimney to watch the people on the lower deck. Asta, Gronda, and Harul took roosts on the railing, looking toward the water, their sharp eyes darting here and there, and their minds full of thoughts of a fish dinner. He gave them leave to begin fishing, and they soared out over the sea immediately. Fein remained with Avenall.
A man dressed all in white walked up the stairs to the level where Avenall stood. He paused at the top of the stairs, hesitating as his eyes moved from Avenall to Fein. Then he walked forward again, hand extended. Avenall blinked and sent a request to Fein, who turned and walked to the end of the boat, then hunkered down while keeping a watchful eye on them.
Avenall extended his hand to clasp the one that was offered to him. He waited for the man to speak and hoped he knew his language.
"I'm Captain Collins. This is my ship," the man said slowly.
Avenall understood. He hoped his English would serve him. He had only ever been able to practice it with Oriane. "I am called Avenall. These are my dragons," he said with a slight gesture of his hand toward the herd.
The Captain smiled a broad smile, friendly.
Avenall smiled back. It was a good start.
CHAPTER NINE
Daddy’s Home
Shan displayed no emotion as the master of the Dragon Riders informed him of Avenall's theft of the dragons. It was too late now to do anything to prevent the boy's treason. He'd been gone when the Dragon Riders arrived for morning training. The loft had been searched, and the boy had taken all of his possessions with him.
Shan moved to dismiss the other man with a gesture, but the master of the Dragon Riders said, "I have one more urgent subject to speak to you about. But it must be in absolute secrecy. It is a matter for the council, not for the people."
Shan nodded his head at each of his assistants, indicating they should leave the room. "Speak, then. As if you could bring me any worse news than what you have already relayed."
"One of the riders, Evrard, went to the stable last night to confront Avenall after his defiant behavior. He remembers nothing after that confrontation until he woke up on the weapons-building table in the armory when I entered to see if anything had been taken."
Shan didn't speak. If he had tried, his rage would have choked him. It had been over a thousand years since a Dragon Tender had been born with the ability to enter higher minds. No one must know that it had happened again.
He composed himself. "Master Rider, who other than you and Evrard know of this?"
"Only the two of us, Elder."
"Good. You will keep this secret."
When his inferior had been gone for a safe period of time, Shan began to fume, overturning furniture and bringing the decorative weapons crashing down from their shelf. He should have drowned the boy when he was an elfling. He should have had him beaten for his disrespect to Evrard, but the council had stayed his hand. He'd agreed not out of affection but because the co
mpound had no other Dragon Tender. No one could fill his role if he'd died or needed time to recover from his injuries.
Shan stormed out of his study and barked at a waiting servant to clean up the mess he left behind. He went to gather the members of the council and inform them of the folly they had wrought.
He would take joy in swinging the sword at the boy's beheading.
***
Oriane stumbled in the too-large, heavy leather boots the elves had bound to her feet and fell roughly to the ground.
"Get her up. Don't let her catch onto the ground, we'll have to chop her down to get her into the cell!"
Rough hands grabbed her on each side and forced her to stand. The chains that hung from her wrists caught under her knees for a long moment, scraping painfully against her slender wrists.
From the excited voices around her, she understood she was a prize for them. She had been a known friend of the Dragon Tender. She might even have helped him in his treason. She might even know where he'd taken the dragons.
It didn't matter to her how much she hurt or how much she was humiliated by their treatment of her: she'd learned from her captors something that made her heart sing. Avie had escaped and was on his way to find the queen and help Euphemia. She bore their rough handling with a smile.
The guards dragged her along through the gates of the compound, and the elves who gathered along their route spit on her and jeered. However, one or two of them, those from the lower castes, looked ashamed and sorry for it even as they humiliated her.
Soon, it ended. The guards placed her in an iron cage that hung suspended from the ceiling of a cell in a back room of the council house.