Shadow Raiders
Page 69
“What do we do?” Dag asked, struggling to hang onto the cat, who was undoubtedly thinking fond thoughts of his storage closet. “We can’t stand here all day.”
“Yes, we can,” said Stephano. “The dragon has to make up his mind about us. He has to decide that we’re not a threat and that we’re also not dinner.”
“And how do we convince him of that, sir?” Dag demanded.
“The old stories tell of the first meeting of humans and dragons,” Miri said, her voice quivering with excitement. “Oh, Stephano, this is a dream come true—”
She was interrupted by crashing and blundering sounds emanating from the forest and loud swearing and then Rodrigo emerged from the woods, hot and sweating, his hair bedraggled, his stockings ripped to shreds. He came up short at the sight of his friends and stared at them indignantly.
“I thought you were all dead! And here you are! Perfectly healthy and lolligagging about—”
“Rigo, shut up!” Stephano said furiously, but it was too late.
Perhaps it was Rodrigo’s querulous tone or the crashing sounds or maybe the lavender coat. Whatever it was, there was something about him the wild dragon didn’t like. He lowered his head, green eyes flaring, and began to slink toward them, gliding rapidly over the ground, his body moving like blue quicksilver.
“Oh, my God!” Rodrigo gulped. “You should have told me you had company. What do I do? Climb a tree?”
Stephano drew his pistol. “Run for the Cloud Hopper.”
“Don’t hurt him!” Miri wailed.
“I’m not going to hurt him!” Stephano said through gritted teeth. He raised the pistol and pointed into the air. “I’m going to try to frighten him. Run! All of you!”
Rodrigo was already on his way. Miri hesitated, then she made a dash toward the boat. Dag dropped the Doctor and snatched up his musket. The Doctor, now feeling brave, hissed at the advancing dragon.
Stephano fired the pistol. The dragon was startled by the boom and stopped short. His head reared. His eyes narrowed to slits. The dragon regarded them warily. He did not take flight, as Stephano had hoped.
“Dag,” said Stephano in a low and even tone, “start backing up. Move slowly, make your way to the boat.”
“What about you, sir?” Dag asked.
“I’m right behind you,” said Stephano.
The two of them began to edge their way slowly toward the Cloud Hopper, both of them keeping their eyes on the dragon, who had his eyes on them. Small gouts of flame shot from his nostrils. Tendrils of smoke coiled from his mouth.
“I don’t think you made much of an impression, sir,” said Dag.
“I’m thinking that myself,” said Stephano.
“I could try to wing him—” Dag said, raising his musket.
“Shoot him and I’ll shoot you!” Miri shouted angrily.
“She would, too,” said Stephano. “If you hurt him, he’ll charge. On my word, make a dash for it.”
He tensed, ready to run, and then he heard Dag cry hoarsely, “Gythe, Girl dear, no! Get back!”
Gythe was walking calmly down the gangplank, carrying her harp in one hand and her little stool in the other. Stephano was ready to make a lunge for her, grab her, and drag her back.
Miri called out, “Leave her be, you men! She knows what she’s doing, far better than you two trigger-happy lunatics! Put away your guns, sirs, and come into the boat now, the both of you.”
Dag cast an agonized glance at Stephano. Dag was silently begging him to ignore Miri and carry Gythe out of danger. The big Guundaran did not know much about dragons, however Stephano did. He lowered his pistol and motioned for Dag to lower his musket.
“I think I know what Miri has in mind. We’ll go to the boat.”
Dag obeyed orders, though with a shake of his head, and went to guard Miri and Rodrigo on the deck of the Cloud Hopper. Miri was pale, but confident, standing with her arms crossed, her lips compressed. Dag put his arm around her and held her close.
Gythe calmly placed the little stool on the ground. She sat down, arranged her skirts, shook her blonde hair around her shoulders, placed her harp in her lap, and drew her hands across the strings. The dragon watched her warily all this time. His teeth bared warningly as she came nearer to him. His tongue flickered from between the front fangs.
At the sound of the music, the dragon blinked. Gythe ran her hands over the strings and then began to sing. Stephano recognized the song, one she frequently sang softly to the Doctor.
The dragon did not appear to know what to make of all this. He tilted his head to one side. His eyes narrowed again, but not in anger. He seemed to be enjoying the music.
“When we were invited to visit the houses of the noble dragons, they always loved to hear Gythe sing,” Miri said with quiet pride. “As I was about to tell you, the old stories relate that this is how humans and dragons first came to trust each other. Dragons love music, but they cannot make it. Music brought dragons and humans together.”
The dragon drew nearer to Gythe. Dag tensed, his hand clasping his musket. Miri rested her hand on his arm.
“Trust me,” she said softly. “Trust Gythe.”
The young dragon was quite close to Gythe now. His head hung over her. He could bite her in two with a snap of his jaws. Gythe appeared to take no notice of him. Her eyes were half-closed; she was lost in her music. Her fingers plucked and strummed. The harp strings quivered. Her voice—never used for speaking, only for song—rose in a melody, haunting and sweet and sad, that told the story of some long ago Trundler maiden, mourning her lost love.
The dragon lowered his head to the ground, stretched out his body, fixed his shining eyes on Gythe, and listened.
Stephano relaxed. Sweat ran from his forehead and trickled, stinging, into his eyes. He dared not move to wipe it away lest he break the spell. Of course, the time would come when Gythe would have to quit singing and there was no telling what the dragon might do then, but Stephano wasn’t worried. The dragon trusted them now. They had to continue to reinforce that trust and show the dragon that they trusted him. Time and patience would be required. Fortunately, Stephano had a lot of both.
Stephano could guess that gaining the trust of wild dragons would not be easy and that training them to carry riders would be more difficult still, especially after working with the civilized dragons who had been flying with humans for centuries.
The young dragon lay at Gythe’s feet and did not stir.
“I know what you’re thinking,” said Miri, eyeing Stephano, who laughed, albeit softly, so as not to disturb the dragon.
He had hope again, he had a job again, he was going to fly again. Life suddenly looked much, much better.
“All I’m thinking is that we can change the name of our group, friends,” he told them. “From now on, we can call ourselves: ‘The Cadre of the Not-So-Very-Lost-After-All.’”
Chuckling to himself, Stephano left his friends standing on the deck of the wounded Cloud Hopper and, moving slowly, he walked down to take a seat beside Gythe. The dragon was clearly aware of Stephano, but the beast kept his gaze fixed on Gythe.
Rodrigo and Miri and Dag looked at each other in bemusement, seeing what lay ahead, not sure they liked it.
“Welcome to the Dragon Brigade,” said Rodrigo.