The Summer Dragon

by Todd Lockwood

  “Unless he knows exactly where he’s going.” Father’s eyes were ringed with dark circles.

  Tauman grimaced. “Where would that be?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know.”

  “I know who might have an idea,” I said.

  They both turned to me, and Father said, “Who?”

  I took a deep breath, and looked at Cairek.

  His face lost a shade of color as Father stepped in front of him. “Where is my son?”

  “I have no idea, Broodmaster. How could I?”

  “What did you say to him?”

  I stepped up beside Father. “You talked to him all the time. Darian told me so.”

  Cairek flushed beneath his ruddy tan. “Aye, but I don’t know where he went.”

  I pressed. “What did he talk to you about? You told me once that he always asked questions. What did he want to know?”

  Cairek didn’t answer immediately, but his expression betrayed him.

  Father took his shirt and shook him once. “What do you know? Talk!”

  Cairek raised his hands. “I’ll tell you what I can, but stand down, please.”

  Father released him and stepped back, hands on his hips.

  Cairek straightened his shirt before he spoke. “There’s something you need to understand about your son, Broodmaster. Darian confided things to me, an’ I wouldn’t break his trust but for the circumstances. He admired you a great deal, an’ spoke endlessly of your time in the Dragonry. He told me that you met his ma there. His secret wish was to join the Dragonry like you did. He wanted nothing more than to follow in your footsteps.”

  Father leaned toward him. “He will. He’ll raise dragons.”

  Cairek frowned. “I didn’t encourage him. I only tell you what he said.”

  “But his qit is bonded to Maia’s,” said Addai.

  Cairek glanced at me and his face grew ruddier still. Then I knew the truth. I groaned. “Darian said you had a question to ask me.”

  He looked at me, struggling with the words he needed to say. “It wouldn’t be proper now. Not under the circumstances.”

  “Tell me.”

  He hung his head. “It was a fantasy, nothing more.”

  “Did you encourage him?” I asked.

  “No! No, I would never . . .”

  Father turned to me. “What is going on? Explain.”

  I sighed. “Darian thought he could skip out on me and Keirr, since Cairek confided in him in that he wanted to ask for my hand in marriage. Am I right?”

  All heads snapped in Cairek’s direction. He said nothing, but looked at the ground.

  So I continued. “Mabir would then write new bond marks, tying Keirr to Taben. The aeries would be whole, and Darian could go chase his dream.”

  Cairek looked up at me, cheeks red, then at Father. “I didn’t encourage him.”

  Father growled, “What did you think would happen?”

  Cairek said nothing.

  “Or did you even care? Was Darian simply a means to get close to my daughter?”

  Cairek’s eyes went wide again, and he looked back and forth between us. “No. Of course not.”

  I felt sorry for him. Father’s anger seemed like an overreaction, but he’d seen his world changing in ways he couldn’t control. He was bound to erupt sooner or later. It wasn’t really Cairek’s fault at all. It was my fault, if anybody’s.

  I stepped in front of Father, facing Cairek. “What sort of questions did he ask? What did you tell him?”

  “He asked about supply chains, the locations of Dragonry outposts, the routines of couriers an’ recruitment companies, movement of troops. That sort of thing.” He glanced at Rov. “I didn’t give him classified information, of course. But I thought little of it. He always wanted to know everything about everything. Weaponry, tactics. Everything.”

  Father took Cairek’s shirt again. “Where did you send him? Where is my son?”

  Cairek twisted free of Father’s hands. “I didn’t send him anywhere. I can only guess.” Cairek looked at me. Then at Father again. “He asked once if there were courier posts between here and Taskis where the refugees might find aid. I told him there weren’t likely any to the east, though I didn’t know, but we all know there are posts between here and Cuuloda—” He stopped short when he saw Father’s expression.

  Father looked through Cairek as if he were a ghost. “So he went north. A courier station would give him food and see him on his way.” He took Cairek again and shook him hard. “You sent my son to Cuuloda!”

  When Cairek didn’t reply, Father threw him on his butt. Cairek put his head in his hands. “I meant no harm,” he said, but he couldn’t meet our eyes.

  Father stalked to Shuja, leapt up the step rungs to the saddle, and began securing one of the satchels to the saddleback as Shuja danced beneath him.

  “Where are you going?” I asked, but I knew the answer.

  Without looking up, he said, “I’m going to find Darian.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  He stopped working and fixed me with his haunted eyes. “No, you’re not.”

  “Father—”

  Rov stepped forward. “You can’t leave, Broodmaster.”

  “I most certainly can.” Father reached for the other satchel hanging above him.

  “No, you can’t,” said Rov. His tone lacked its usual clipped, military tone.

  Father paused. “Why not?”

  Rov turned to Tauman and squinted. “Are you going to tell your Father what you told me?”

  Tauman’s color faded much as Cairek’s had.

  When Tauman didn’t answer immediately, Father slid off of Shuja’s back, straight to the ground. The big dragon shuffled his feet in surprise. Father walked up to Tauman much as he had Cairek, but he stood closer, eye to eye.

  “What haven’t you told me?”

  Tauman met his gaze, swallowed, took a breath, and raised his chin. “When I was in Avigal and heard that Emperor Ahriman planned to impose charters on the aeries, I asked around. I had some time to kill, and several other aeries were represented at the capital. Without Cuuloda, resistance to the charters is weak. Three of the broodmasters had already applied. So . . .” His gaze flickered from Father to Rov and back.

  “So what?”

  “Since I had your ring, I did the only prudent thing: I applied for the charter and put your seal to it.”

  Father only stared at him for several pounding heartbeats.

  “Captain Rov told me that he thought I’d done the right thing.”

  “Because he knows so much about aeries?” Father glared at Rov before turning to his son again. “You lied to me. You could have told me the moment you returned—”

  “I was waiting for the right time.”

  “You couldn’t come back and consult with me first?”

  “The opportunity was there. I made a decision, and I think it was the right—”

  “You understand that by applying for it, you opened the charter up to competition, don’t you?”

  Tauman swallowed. “Yes, but if the emperor gets his way, it will be open anyway. I was there, and who else would apply? We know this country from time before time. We underst—”

  Father slapped him in the chest with both hands, pushing him back. “Foolish boy. What have you done?”

  Rov cleared his throat. “That’s why you can’t leave. Others will make petition. Potential investors will take interest. Word of the charter’s disposition could arrive by courier any given day. The broodmaster has to be here when it comes. That means you, with your ring—to seal the agreement and secure the charter.”

  Father turned to Rov, the thunderstorm brewing in his eyes.

  “The world is changing, Magha. Finances are getting thinner. You’re goi
ng to need investors to stay ahead of it. If you’re gone, you could lose the aeries.”

  Father looked at each of us in turn. Bellua showed what looked like genuine surprise. Addai was unreadable. Jhem shocked, as if Tauman hadn’t said a word to her about his actions. Which wouldn’t surprise me. Sadness touched Father’s expression when he looked at me. Then he turned back to Tauman and stared at him long. Finally he pulled the signet ring off his finger, grabbed Tauman’s hand, and thrust the broodmaster’s seal into it.

  “Fine then. You’re Broodmaster now.”

  Tauman looked with horror at what lay in his hand. “No, Father—”

  “It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” Father turned from him, shrugged into his coat, slung his bow and quiver over one shoulder and snatched the last satchel off the paving.

  “No, Father, that’s not—I didn’t—I should go look for Darian, you should stay.”

  “You wouldn’t begin to know where to look. You can’t do it. You’re in charge here now.”

  “Father—”

  “Who else has a prayer of catching up to Darian and Aru? Listen to me: Darian is in skies he’s never flown, but Broodmaster is what I’ve trained you to be. Jhem and Maia will support you. Time to take responsibility.”

  Tauman swallowed visibly.

  “I’m coming,” I said again.

  “No. You are not. You’re staying here, in this armed camp. You’re safer here. The road is too dangerous.”

  “Father—”

  “I said no.” He mounted Shuja again, unclipped the satchel hanging from the jib, and secured it to the saddle rings. He buckled in, glaring at Tauman. “Pray to the High Ones I find Darian quickly and return before the qits hatch.”

  “I should come with you,” said Cairek, red-faced but with his chin held high.

  “I need you here,” Rov said. “I can’t let you go.”

  Cairek exhaled, his expression drawing inward. “Yes, sir.”

  Father snorted. “There’s no way I would let you accompany me anyway.”

  “I’m sending a team with you,” said Addai to Father. “Shuja is a brood sire. You shouldn’t go alone.”

  “I don’t want them. I’ll move faster without.”

  “I’m sending them anyway. One dragon, one rider. You’ll thank me later.”

  “I’ll thank you now to keep them here, where they belong. Keep my family and my aeries safe, Addai. That’s your job, and it’s all I ask of you. Please.”

  “Regardless—”

  “I won’t wait for them.”

  He finished clipping the third satchel into place across the front of his saddle. Addai turned and sprinted to his dragon.

  “Are you sure this is what you want to do, Magha?” said Rov.

  Father stared at him as Shuja began to prance with anticipation. “I’m going to find my son,” he said. Then he wheeled Shuja about, and with a shout they launched into the sky.

  FORTY-THREE

  THREE DAYS PASSED and Father didn’t return.

  Grus nested her eleven eggs alone. Athys and Rannu, Coluver and Audax took turns assisting so she could get off the brood platform and stretch her wings, but then she paced restlessly and moaned in quiet anguish. Clearly, she fretted over Father and Shuja. I spent as much time with her as I could, and even got Keirr to nestle her clutch of eggs for an hour each day. Keirr seemed to enjoy it, though I’m sure she sensed the disquiet, too.

  “Shuja?” she asked, and made the “Poppa” honk she’d used for her own sire almost a year ago. Whether she referred to Shuja or Father, or both, I couldn’t say. It warmed my heart, though it wasn’t enough to silence my guilt.

  This was supposed to be the easiest time of year, when the adults were least active and least in need of nourishment. Feeding them was a light chore. One person could manage it, and we had plenty of extra bodies; some of the soldiers took interest and helped in their free time. Even Bellua assisted, though I avoided him. There were no qits to wrangle. Labor was replaced with “quiet expectation,” as Jhem put it.

  I could only dwell on how horribly wrong everything had turned. The longer Father was away, the angrier I became, even though I understood that Darian was in danger, alone on the road. I couldn’t help feeling abandoned. Again.

  I’d been trying out some different language ideas with Keirr but to little avail. There weren’t words to learn, only a means of telling space that dragons used to relate ideas that words took too long to describe. Who needs words when you can communicate an entire landscape with all its width, depth, and height in a single sound? Frustration only compounded my guilt and worry.

  Jhem found me the third afternoon in the storehouse with Keirr. She sat on the rail of the winch platform and patted the spot beside her. I plopped down. “How are you?” she asked.

  I ignored the useless question. “What if Father went the wrong way? What if Darian took a different route than the obvious one, just to throw us off?”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “I did it, when I went after Keirr. Remember? I dropped the basket so it would look like I headed out after the acquisition train. I made a false trail. I keep wondering if Dare knew I would follow him. He could have gone in any direction from the top of Zurvaan. He practically said as much once.”

  Jhem laid her hand on my arm. “You have to stop blaming yourself, Maia. He’s responsible for his own actions.”

  I leaned forward, my elbows on my knees. “I can’t help thinking about it. What if he went east, just because no one would expect him to? Or west or even south? Why hasn’t Father returned yet?”

  She dropped her chin on the heel of her hand.

  “So I’ve been thinking,” I said.

  “Uh, oh.”

  “Father went north, but we have permission to go east.”

  “Not very far east. And the Juza have already searched in every direction.”

  “Less than a day’s worth.”

  “Addai and Rov won’t allow it.”

  “I don’t care. They’re not bonded to Aru. Maybe—”

  “How far can we go and really learn anything without causing a panic?”

  “Not ‘we.’ Just me. If I leave early in the morning, take advantage of darkness, then—”

  “Panic will begin at dawn. You can’t do it, Maia.”

  “If I have an escort, and it’s all logged, then the worst they can do is yell at me. I can ask Cairek. He owes me anyway, don’t you think?”

  “He can’t, even if you make a case for it. He’s a soldier. He has orders. You’d get him in trouble. And you already gave him a pretty rough time.”

  I frowned. It was true. I’d let him take the heat from Father when I bore at least as much blame as he did. I clamped my hands between my knees and scowled at my boots. I felt dirty. “I can’t just sit here.”

  Jhem stared at me for a short minute, her brows pinched, her mouth disapproving. “You know that by telling me, you’ve already made me an accomplice.”

  Jhem and I launched straight off the cliff behind the winter stables. We glided without sound past the pinnacle and over Riat. The night air whistled across my cheeks and stung my wrists between coat-sleeves and gloves. The waning crescent moon served as our guidepost for the first four hours. Keirr and Audax clicked regularly, and twice we heard the roar of waterfalls in the darkness below. Otherwise we flew with silence.

  The coming dawn gave shape to the horizon—soft and undulating, nearly featureless. When the moon approached its zenith and the sun peeked over the distant prairie we were only five or six hours from Riat, but we’d long since passed the spot where we left Borgomos on his journey into exile. Our second flight ever, it had required an entire day’s travel, but Keirr was a stronger flier now, more than half her adult size. Jhem left Tauman a note, detailing our agenda. He’d most likely fly after a
nd meet us on our return.

  We reasoned that if Darian went east, Taskis would be his destination, the nearest major city. He would follow the Wilding river all day, until it joined the much larger river Gadia where it emptied into the sea. Then he’d fly northeast across the Daancar Peninsula until he found the Bay of Bascorel, and then simply follow the coastline to Taskis. Somewhere around the juncture of the two rivers he’d have met nightfall and made camp. We hoped to find sign of him around midday. Assuming he came this way at all, of course. We could only prove that he had if we found evidence. We couldn’t prove that he hadn’t.

  We ate breakfast on a knoll, with the sun blinding us to the hazy plains eastward. The air smelled of dust. Behind us, Mt. Zurvaan’s gray nub barely poked above a misty horizon. It felt very strange not to have mountains all around. The last of the homesteads were well behind us, too. We overlooked a broad, flat, treeless wilderness.

  “Poor Borgomos,” I said. Jhem looked at me in momentary surprise and then nodded sad agreement.

  We took off again as soon as our mounts were fed. In late morning we spied a dugout farmhouse with a roof of logs and sod. Perhaps Darian stopped here. Perhaps they knew something of Borgomos and his people.

  We sensed something wrong even before we landed. The fields contained no livestock. The patch of garden next to the house was dead, untilled and unplanted. No smoke came from the chimney to scent the brisk morning air. We landed in the yard and approached the house with arrows nocked in our bows. The door hung loose, so we peeked inside.

  Dank silence greeted us. A single room, with a table and chairs, several stacked beds along one wall. A stone fireplace, an iron pot sitting sideways in cold ashes. Tools. A cupboard with stoneware dishes and cups. A chest containing clothing and blankets. In the corner, a shrine to Amrah, the Spirit of Plants, patron Avar of all farmers. But no sign of life.

  “What do you suppose happened?” Jhem asked me, with a quaver in her voice.

  I shook my head. What a simple existence compared to our lofty manor. I felt a twinge of guilt for every time I’d ever felt deprived. Such a hard life this would be. “I don’t know. You don’t suppose they joined Borgomos and his people and moved on, do you?”