by T M Miller
‘Jaron,’ the lord tried to look stern but there was a twinkle of mirth remaining in his eyes. When the boy still didn’t move Carna turned serious. ‘I know this is difficult for you, but you must trust me and Madrag.’
The sincerity of his words threw Jaron. He had said to his mother he would try. Summoning up his courage, he stepped forward and felt Carna’s hand close about his upper arm. Probably afraid he was going to bolt at any moment, Jaron supposed. Yet it was a comfort, to feel that touch as Carna escorted him closer to Madrag. The firedrake watched them coming and began to stretch out his neck towards them. Jaron stopped short and saw Carna raise a hand to Madrag, palm out. The beast froze, his eyes on his rider.
‘To put out a palm, fingers close together, means to be still and wait for my next command,’ Carna explained. ‘So now we’ll go closer…’ He walked on and a reluctant Jaron was forced to go with him or else embarrass himself by pulling back. Carna didn’t take him to the head, however, but moved towards the firedrake’s furled wing. Below it, Jaron could see the rise and fall of the massive belly and hear the beast’s breath – it reminded him of the blacksmith’s bellows in the forge back in his village. He had never been so aware of an animal in his life before.
‘Their wings are just like a bat’s, you see this claw here?’ Carna pointed at the long, hooked talon at the foremost fold of the wing where it folded against Madrag’s scaled side. ‘They use this to hang onto a vertical surface.’ Jaron eyed the ridged talon warily for it was bigger than his hand. ‘So, if there is nowhere to land you could aim your firedrake to a sheer gradient and as long as there is something to grip onto they can hang quite comfortably for a long period of time. The wing membranes are the most vulnerable part of a firedrake as they obviously have no scales for protection.’ He moved closer to Madrag’s head, still as a statue as it stretched towards the cave. ‘You see these pockets on the side of the neck here?’ Carna cupped the mound that was just below the jawbone. ‘These are fire sacs.’
‘Fire sacs?’
‘Feel them.’
Jaron stared. ‘You want me to touch him?’
‘Yes.’ Carna dropped his hand away from Jaron’s arm and stood impassively, like he was not asking anything much at all.
Jaron hesitated, stepped forward and cast a quick check at Madrag’s head. A big yellow eye was watching him, but the red firedrake might have been made from stone. Slowly, he stepped within the fold of the firedrake’s neck. After a moment he reached out and touched the sac with one finger. ‘Hmm, yes,’ he said.
‘Squeeze it,’ Carna said.
‘Won’t it upset him?’
‘Not at all.’
Jaron bit his lip and did as he was told, gently folding his fingers over the raised pocket of skin. ‘It’s soft, and… it feels like there’s fluid in there.’ His interest was piqued and he forgot to be afraid. ‘What is it? Water?’
‘No, it’s an inflammable liquid we call Flagra. When a firedrake dies we harvest that. Spark it and up it goes. Good for starting fires and used for blasts.’
‘Blasts?’
‘When we cut into rock; if we need to expand in the future we’ll use our stores.’
So that was how the Raken had managed to cut so deep into the mountains.
‘The scales cover the body as protection, apart from the ears and… here.’ Carna tapped Madrag’s leg and the firedrake obediently lifted it forward. Jaron was now so interested he forgot to flinch. ‘You see this spot in the armpit here?’ Carna was pointing to a blue patch of skin. ‘Here is where a firedrake is vulnerable to something other than another firedrake, also the eyes, nostrils or the mouth.’
‘If it’s not breathing fire.’
‘Yes, if it’s not breathing fire. But even a firedrake must take a breath before it blasts. It can’t fire then.’
He tapped Madrag’s leg again and the firedrake put it back down. Carna ran his hand along the ridges of the neck scales. ‘A firedrake’s skin needs very little looking after. The scales grow along with the firedrake. Oiling them serves to enhance the rider and beast relationship, and it shows a beast is well cared for by its rider.’ While he had been talking Carna had moved further up the neck until they now stood next to the head. He clicked with his tongue and the firedrake flicked an ear back at him. ‘Their hearing is acute,’ he ran his hand along the long ears. ‘See how the skin is black here? No scales and it feels like tough leather.’ He took a surprised Jaron’s hand and Madrag dipped his head a little lower so before he knew it, the long, thick ear was clasped in his hand.
‘It feels warm,’ Jaron said in surprise.
‘Yes, no scales, as I said. Madrag likes nothing better than to have his ears rubbed.’ He paused and eyed Jaron, like he was daring him to do it.
Jaron hesitated then slowly he began to run his hand up and down the soft ear. It felt spongy in his hand and Madrag gave a low moan that reverberated along his long neck, causing Jaron to jump back.
‘It’s alright, that’s his pleasure moan, he loves it, don’t you Madrag?’ Carna murmured softly to his firedrake and took over where Jaron had left off, rubbing the ear. His firedrake closed his eyes in ecstasy and nudged him. Jaron stared in wonder.
‘Well,’ Carna stepped away from his firedrake, who seemed disappointed he had stopped caressing him. ‘I think that’s enough for today. I’ll walk you back in.’ He let Jaron go first. By the time Jaron had reached the middle of his cave and turned, the Raken lord had already gone back to Madrag and was standing at the massive beast’s shoulder.
‘You did very well,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ Jaron said, and meant it.
Carna turned to Madrag, who obediently lifted his foreleg. Stepping up, the lord took hold of a raised scale and swung himself up with one fluid practiced movement. ‘Good evening, Jaron.’ He clicked at Madrag and the beast turned, his tail sweeping back into the cave and causing Jaron to step aside in alarm. Madrag dropped off the ledge out of sight. After a moment he rose into view, gliding across the valley with his massive wings outstretched.
Jaron moved to the entrance and watched; the sun was now setting and the red beast did indeed look like a phoenix of fire. The firedrake flapped his wings to gain more height and soared over the lip of a mountain, his long tail rippling behind him. A firedrake cry, long and keening, reached Jaron’s ears and he felt something inside him give at the sound.
For a long time afterwards, he stood at the cave entrance, staring out across the valley.
13
It wasn’t until the sun was just setting behind the mountains and painting the sky in ripples of orange and purple that she emerged from the tunnel, softly padding across his room with a tray laden with food. Jaron was sitting out on the ledge but looking out for her. He came in to help.
There were two plates. ‘I thought we might eat together?’ Rella asked, and her son was pleased she was staying. ‘How about outside? It’s such a lovely evening.’
‘Alright.’ Jaron dragged the bedside chair out for her and Rella the little table. She fetched the tray and the tantalising smell of chicken rose from the plates. She seemed preoccupied and didn’t meet his eyes. Jaron waited until she sat, but still didn’t touch his food. ‘Mum…’ he began.
She looked down at her plate. ‘After we’ve eaten, we’ll talk then.’ Her voice sounded strained and in the fading light her son could see her face was drawn and tired. Apprehension stole through him.
The chicken tasted delicious, it peeled away from the bone easily as Jaron bit into the leg and the vegetables were crunchy and fresh. They sat in companionable silence as they enjoyed the food. After dinner, they eased back in their chairs and gazed at the view.
The valley haze had lifted as night took hold and was now dotted with fires. White and blue lanterns had been lit around the lake and at intervals along the river. To Jaron it seemed like a picture from a child’s book and not real at all. Rella rose to light the torches that were set in the outside w
all and the ledge became bathed in a warm glow.
‘I’ve always loved this view,’ his mother’s voice was soft. Jaron didn’t reply, wanting her to tell him now. She sat down, perched on the front of her chair. ‘Carna said you did very well with Madrag today.’ She pushed the plates away and put her elbows on the table. ‘Thank you, Jaron, for trying. I know it must have been hard for you.’
He nodded but he didn’t want to talk about the firedrake tonight and she saw the questions in his eyes and sighed, bringing up a hand to tuck her hair behind her ears.
‘I was born in one of the villages behind the mountains,’ she began. ‘My father was a flyer and my mother worked as head cook in the kitchens in the bowls of Mount Scarf, this very mountain. It is the home of the council and where the leaders of Rakenar live.’
‘Just like you back in Tiara,’ Jaron said and his mother nodded but her brown eyes were far away.
‘As soon as I was old enough I worked at her side. She taught me everything I know about cooking and I loved it. Not just the work but the whole atmosphere of a large kitchen, the smells, the noise and chatter. A good working kitchen is a village in itself, where everyone looks out for each other.’ Rella sat back and gazed over the valley with its winking lights. ‘I thought I would always be here, working at my mother’s side, becoming head cook one day just like her,’ she paused and Jaron waited, she had never told him anything of her life here before and he didn’t want to speak for fear of stopping her now. ‘My father was made captain of High Lord Mandra’s flight and my mother and I came to live in the mountain; we were afforded that honour with my father’s position.’ Her eyes flicked across to Jaron and away again.
‘I was seventeen and out on an errand for my mother when a red firedrake landed in the valley and its rider dismounted and walked towards me.’ In the firelight Jaron saw her slow smile. ‘He was not much older than me, lanky as a young colt, and with a shock of thick hair that fell below his shoulders and eyes that pierced me to my core. ‘That looks too heavy a bundle for you to carry,’ he said and before I knew what had happened he had taken my load from me and was asking where I was going with it. When I told him, he said he would fly me to the village if I wanted to,’ her eyes were shining as she remembered. ‘Of course, I said yes! A great red firedrake and a handsome young rider. I had seen him from afar but never so close. I put my shyness to one side and he flew me to my errand.’ Rella laughed and Jaron could see that excited young girl. ‘I had been on my father’s firedrake, of course, but to be on the great red…’ she sighed, lost in her memories. ‘After that he seemed to appear whenever I was out of the kitchens. I never in my wildest dreams imagined that the son of our lord would be interested in me. People started to notice but when I asked him if he minded, him a lord and me a kitchen girl, he laughed then berated me. ‘He was the lucky one,’ he always said.’ Rella paused and seemed to be considering something more before meeting Jaron’s gaze.
‘And that was how Lord Carna and I met.’
Jaron was jolted out of his reverie. ‘Lord Carna?’
‘Yes.’
‘Not… Torrit, my father?’ Jaron’s voice was a whisper.
Rella shook her thick hair. ‘Carna was my first love.’
Jaron digested this news and she waited, silent, until he looked up. ‘But… why didn’t you stay with him then? What about Torrit?’ He frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
Rella smiled sadly. She turned away from him again as she stared into the night. ‘Carna had one brother, Lord Torrit, older by three years. Both boys were loved by their father but Torrit, being the eldest, would inherit his father’s mantle and become High Lord so it was natural he would be the most revered by the council and his father. From the first moment he saw me and his brother together Torrit wanted me. I knew it. I sensed it. Carna told me that in childhood Torrit always took from his younger brother. As a young man it was no different, it was like some terrible game to him. He was jealous of what his younger brother and I had. Eventually, Torrit went to his father and announced he wanted to make me his.’
Jaron shook his head, hardly believing what he was hearing. ‘But,’ he whispered, ‘surely the oldest son of a high lord…’
Rella’s smile was bitter. ‘Couldn’t set up with a lowly cook? This isn’t Tiara, Jaron. There are no rules to say otherwise. Whoever he chose was his, and he chose me, despite Carna’s strenuous protests. High Lord Mandra thought Carna too young to know his own mind,’ she sighed. ‘He gave Torrit his blessing and there was nothing to be done, not by Carna and not by me. I was to feel honoured by such an offer.’ Her voice was fading. When she spoke again it was a mere whisper, ‘Carna wanted to take me and leave but I couldn’t let him do it. He was next in line. I couldn’t take him away from the place he loved and a firedrake flyer belongs here in Rakenar.’ She sighed. ‘Lord Mandra came to see me. He wanted me to stop the feud between his sons. I had no choice but to accept Torrit.’ She bowed her head into shadow again. ‘Every day I saw the hurt and rage in Carna’s eyes and it didn’t diminish.’ She raised her head and her eyes were shining with unshed tears. ‘I knew I couldn’t stay and it broke my heart.’ Jaron saw a tear slide down her cheek. He pushed his hand out towards where hers lay, but she didn’t take it.
‘The only person I told of my intention to leave was my friend Oran. I trusted him and he made the arrangements. With Oran’s help, I left and travelled south to live amongst the villages where my mother’s relations lived. Torrit was looking for me and I moved whenever one of the villagers heard he was close. In time, the sightings got less and less. I was pregnant and at last I finally managed to settle enough for you to be born,’ she smiled across at him and lifted a hand to brush his fringe away. ‘You were the light in my life, Jaron, and I never regretted my decision, never.’
Jaron stared as he digested her words. ‘But… I thought you left because your mother died. To live with your aunt.’
His mother shook her head. ‘She died years later. And I was not at her side.’ Tears glistened in her eyes. She took a moment to compose herself, took a deep breath and continued. ‘We were living in Harnt when seven years later I met Teel, your stepfather, and I loved him, he was a good man and a good father to you.’ she sighed. ‘For many years I was content – until that terrible night.’
She was silent while Jaron digested all that she had told him. He couldn’t help feeling there was something more she wasn’t revealing. His mind began to race like a trapped bird. ‘It was all because of me,’ he whispered.
‘No,’ her reply was immediate. She shifted in her chair to face him properly. ‘I left because I couldn’t bear to stay. Jaron, you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I feel blessed to have you. I wouldn’t change a thing if it meant I wouldn’t have you in my life.’ Despite her words, her eyes slid away from him. There was something she still wasn’t telling him, he felt it. And where was Torrit now?
‘Is Torrit dead?’ he asked in a tight voice. He had to be, now Carna was lord. Jaron found he hoped he was after what the man had done to his mother.
‘No.’ She dashed his hopes with one word. ‘He was banished.’
‘Banished? But… wasn’t he high lord by then?’ Jaron couldn’t believe it could get any worse. ‘It must have been something been really bad for Rakenar’s leader to be banished.’
‘It was.’ She swallowed and lifted her eyes to meet his. They were wide, fearful. His heart began to hammer in his chest. He knew what she was waiting for. It was the reason she had told him more than a mother might have done. It had all led to this. His hands started to shake and Rella reached out and clasped them tight.
‘It was him, wasn’t it?’ he asked in a small voice.
‘Yes,’ she still held onto him like a drowning woman.
‘Torrit, my father, it was he who razed the village that night. He was after you.’
His mother bowed her head, her hair falling across her face. ‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘I didn’t know, Jaron – not until I met Carna again.’ She came around the table but he took a step back out of reach. His father was a killer. His father had razed a whole village to the ground. His father had taken Rella by force – and he was the result.
‘Jaron–’ She was in front of him, her arms going around him.
‘Get off!’ he shouted into her shocked face and threw off her arms. ‘Leave me alone!’ He stumbled into the cave and fell onto the bed.
‘Oh, Jaron,’ her voice was full of fear and hurt and he could hear she was crying. ‘Jaron, I’m so sorry, please listen. Torrit didn’t know you existed; had he known I’m sure he wouldn’t have burnt you.’
‘No! I don’t want to hear anymore.’ He buried his head in the soft embrace of the pillow, balling it up into his fists. A sob racked his body. He couldn’t take it in, all he could do was lay there and quietly rage against what she had told him. He heard his mother’s light steps cross the cave. When he at last raised his tear-streaked face from the damp pillow the room was empty.
His hands clenched and released until Jaron gave the pillow a hefty punch. Torrit, his father, murderer of all those villagers, of Teel… He flipped over onto his back and wiped at his wet face. She had kept this from him. Had treated him like a child. Well, he would show her he could be a man and make his own decisions.
He sat up and stared out into the night through the open doors, at the dark shapes of the mountains reaching up into the starred sky, at the lighted caves he could see running like fairy lights across the walls of the mountains. All he could think of was the power of the beasts that slept out on their ledges, the destruction they could wreak.