Dragon and Phoenix

by Joanne Bertin

  “Gods help us!” Raven yelped as a dragon the wine red color of Linden’s birthmark appeared below them.

  A tiny part of Otter’s mind chuckled in amused sympathy; he remembered the first time he’d seen Linden Change from man to dragon. The rest of him prayed that Linden’s wings didn’t snap.

  For one long, horror-stricken moment he thought it had happened; the great wings shot out to their full extension and were immediately wrenched back. Then, more slowly than Otter wanted to see, the wings inched out once more.

  Otter breathed, “Thank the—No!” He watched in fear as the wind caught Linden and nearly smashed him into the cliff. The next few moments were pure hell as Otter watched Linden tumbling through the air.

  Then the great wings spread once more. It looked to Otter as if one wing tip struck the cliff, but he couldn’t be certain.

  Linden glided a short way. Otter remembered to breathe again. Then the powerful wings began a stiff, heavy pumping. The red dragon lurched in the air but stayed aloft.

  “He must have wrenched them badly to be flying like that,” Otter said, limp with relief. “Still, he’s lucky. He’s so very lucky.”

  They watched the red dragon climb and disappear over the edge of the plateau.

  “What do you mean?” Raven asked. His voice was subdued and there was none of his earlier hostility.

  Otter put a hand up, found he was sweating profusely. He wiped his forehead. “While it’s not their favored method of beginning a flight, a Dragonlord can leap from a high enough place and Change midway. It’s only truly safe, though, if the air is calm. Yet even a wind isn’t bad if it’s steady and mild, and blowing in the right direction.

  “But the wind at this end of the plateau never stops. Worse yet, it shifts with the blink of an eye. It’s enough to blow a Dragonlord into the cliff wall. That’s what nearly happened to Linden. And if it had …” Otter couldn’t complete the sentence. He sagged against the wall, trying not to think about what would have come next.

  “Oh,” Raven said. Then, after a short silence where it looked to the bard as if the younger man argued with himself, Raven continued, “He did that only because of Maurynna, didn’t he?”

  “Yes. I think he was afraid it would take too long to reach an open spot—the landing cliff, say—where he could Change and launch himself safely.” Otter wanted to ask, Would you have taken such a risk? but decided that would be too heavy-handed. Leave such blatant idiocies to the boy’s father. He had faith that Raven could read the writing on this wall—now that his nose was shoved into it.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Raven asked.

  “I’ve no more idea than you, lad,” said Otter. “We’ll just have to wait and find out.”

  “Couldn’t he have told us? Gods damn it all, but I’ll go mad wondering,” Raven said with quiet, heartfelt fury.

  Otter could only agree.

  Now what? Lleld wondered as she circled—oh, so innocently!—far to the north of the ridge that just happened to have a certain mountain meadow on the other side of it. The sight before her so astonished the smallest Dragonlord that she stopped, hovering in midair, her wings beating furiously to hold her place.

  It was the last thing she had expected: Linden racing up from the south for that same meadow. Even stranger, he flew clumsily, with none of the powerful grace she associated with his dragon form. He skimmed the lower southern ridge with barely enough room to clear it and disappeared into the bowl of the meadow.

  Her curiosity tortured her. Why was Linden flying like that? Had the truedragons summoned him for some reason? What was happening?

  She ground her fangs in frustration. If only she dared enter the meadow herself … .

  The Songbirds were singing as Shei-Luin neared the main garden again. As always, the incredible purity of their voices caught her with their beauty. She stopped to listen. Even Xahnu seemed entranced, for he stopped fidgeting in her arms and listened as the melody faded and Zyuzin the Jewel began a lover’s ballad.

  She glanced over her shoulder at the sound of a sudden intake of breath. Murohshei stood as if spellbound, his face filled with a yearning that she’d never seen before. It startled her, and for an instant she regretted she must disturb him. But this could mean all their lives, Yesuin’s and, more importantly, the life of her son. She would stop at nothing to protect Xahnu. Nothing.

  She beckoned to Muruhshei. He came to her and she set Xahnu in his arms as if she were tired. As she leaned forward, she whispered, “That message from Jhanun—the one that tried to trick me—move it from my rooms to the tunnels for safekeeping when—”

  A braying laugh from inside a nearby grove of peach trees cut her off.

  Shei-Luin closed her eyes. Not Xiane again!

  Pain brought Maurynna back to the world, an intense, blazing pain that racked the muscles of her upper back. What? she thought blearily, unable to understand the why of it. But she welcomed the discomfort, for it ended both the agony that had sought to consume her very bones, and the death grip on her breathing.

  She opened her eyes with a groan. Morlen and Boreal, now standing, peered down at her, their heads silhouetted against the blue sky. She sat up slowly, wondering if her head really would shatter. At last she was upright, hunched in a shaking ball, but sitting. The tide of pain in her head ebbed. Boreal snuffled her anxiously.

  *Little cousin, are thee well?* Morlen asked gently.

  His mindvoice hurt; Maurynna’s very thoughts felt bruised and battered. But she was able to say, “I think so. But what … ?”

  *I do not think Kyrissaean wanted to speak with me,* Morlen said with dry understatement.

  Maurynna leaned against one of Boreal’s sturdy forelegs and laughed weakly despite the pain. “It would seem not, my lord.”

  *Ware!* Galinis shouted. *Look to the sky!*

  Maurynna looked up in time to see a red shape drop like a thunderbolt from the sky. Although she had only seen Linden in his dragon form twice before—she suspected he’d not Changed out of consideration for her—she recognized him immediately.

  Bellowing in rage, Linden swooped low over the group of truedragons. He landed, smoke curling from his nostrils, long fangs bared to fight. To Maurynna’s horror, blood dripped from a wing tip, fell smoking onto grass that curled and died. There was a mad gleam in Linden’s eyes.

  “Linden, no! Please!” Maurynna cried, fear gripping her heart. He can’t hear me, she realized in horror. But when she tried mindspeech, the torment that lanced through her head nearly felled her again. She couldn’t reach Linden!

  The red dragon charged Morlen. The four smaller truedragons leaped forward to face Linden, ready for battle.

  “Morlen! Stop them!” Maurynna screamed.

  The thunder of fire rumbling down six dragon throats filled the air as the great wyrms prepared for battle. No one heard her.

  “Gods help him,” Maurynna whispered, “else he doesn’t have a chance.”

  Xiane it was, emerging from the grove. And from the look on his face, he had but one thought in mind. Her stomach turned even as she knelt.

  “Precious Flower!” he called as he loped up to her. His smile was huge, displaying long white teeth like a horse’s. “I found you—now you must pay a forfeit!”

  She made herself smile at him. “Forfeit, my lord? Pleasure, rather!” Shei-Luin raised her hands to meet his.

  He pulled her up with easy strength. “Come with me.”

  “But Xahnu—” she countered.

  “Murohshei can take him back to Tsiaa. Come.”

  There was no arguing. Her hand held firmly in Xiane’s grasp, she followed as he led her deeper into the vast gardens than she’d ever been before.

  They emerged from an ordered arranging of jasmine, roses, and other fragrant shrubs, dotted here and there with little groves of peach, pear, and artfully arranged almond trees, into a woodland glade.

  Shei-Luin caught her breath. It was almost too perfect, but the artist who had
designed the gardens so long ago had arranged trees, moss, rocks, and water with a delicate, restrained touch, and then had had the wisdom to let nature take its course.

  A miniature deer raised its dripping muzzle from the spring-fed pool and gazed unafraid at them. They stopped to watch it.

  “I found this part of the gardens when I was a child,” Xiane said, low-voiced. “There’s still much I haven’t explored, the gardens are hu—”

  He gasped and ducked almost before Shei-Luin heard the telltale angry buzzing. Once again his face turned deathly white.

  The coward is afraid of a tiny insect!

  Shei, he has good reason.

  Shei-Luin suddenly understood. Her hand flashed out, closed on the red-and-black striped insect darting at Xiane’s face, and crushed it. Pain like a burning needle lanced through her palm. She cried out and instinctively flung the dead bee away, then looked down at her hand. Already there was an angry red swelling in the center that ached abominably.

  Xiane snatched her up in his arms and began running. “We must leave,” he said, his voice shaking. “That was a red bee. If the others smell their dead sister, they’ll be after us.”

  Shei-Luin said nothing, but cradled her aching hand and her new knowledge to herself.

  Oh, the hell with it; I must know! I never promised Jekkanadar I wouldn’t go to the meadow, after all.

  Executing a neat flip, Lleld stooped in a long slanting dive; the ground sped away beneath her. She held the dive until the last possible moment, then began flying south as fast as she could, cursing under her breath that she had been at the far northern edge of her circling.

  He’ll be killed if I don’t stop this.

  The thought gave Maurynna new strength. “Boreal,” she ordered. “Help me up.”

  The stallion lowered his head. Maurynna grabbed onto his long mane. “Now!” Boreal pulled her straight up. She staggered forward a pace or two. The Llysanyin walked with her.

  “Linden! Linden, for the sake of the gods, will you listen!” She waved frantically, trying to get Linden’s attention, but she was behind the line of truedragons. He couldn’t see her. He didn’t know she was alive and well. He’d die under the claws of the truedragons for nothing. “Linden!” she screamed.

  Nothing. Then … The mad charge stopped. He’d heard her! As the red-scaled head swung around, eyes frantically searching among the truedragons, Boreal seized the back of Maurynna’s tunic in his teeth and dragged her forward between Galinis and Morlen.

  At once a red mist surrounded the solitary dragon, shrank, disappeared, and Linden faced the truedragons in human form.

  She stumbled into his arms, held him tightly, glad to feel them around her even though their grip was painfully tight. After a time she became aware of a growing wetness under her left hand and she remembered the blood she’d seen.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, pulling back from him a little. “How? What happened?”

  “Never mind that,” said Linden raggedly. “What happened to you?” His face was stark white and etched with fear.

  “I … I don’t know,” she answered.

  *It was my fault,* Morlen said. His wings drooped. He sagged onto the grass; the others lay down as well, their relief at avoiding battle plain to see.

  His mindvoice dismayed, Morlen continued, *I wished to speak to Kyrissaean. I told thy soultwin that there would be no harm to her. I thought I spoke the truth.*

  “There should have been no danger,” Linden said. “Speech with a dragonsoul has been done before and no ill came of it.”

  Maurynna rested her head on Linden’s shoulder. “Until Kyrissaean, damn her.” She held back tears of frustration. If she could only get at her dragon half and have it out with her! “At least she didn’t half kill me when Rathan tried to speak with her.”

  *Little cousin,* Morlen said. His mindvoice was the barest whisper. *I have endangered thee—*

  “My lord Morlen,” Maurynna said. She refused to cry in front of the truedragons; it was a matter of pride. But if Morlen continued apologizing, cry she would. “This is not your fault. Please.”

  *Thee are kind,* Morlen said, bowing his head to her. She wondered if he sensed her fear. *I thank thee.* The Seer heaved himself to his feet once more; sunlight sparkled over his moss green scales. The other truedragons rose as well.

  Maurynna stood transfixed as Morlen towered over her. He bent his neck so that the tip of his muzzle touched her forehead as if in benediction. His scales were pleasantly cool against her skin.

  *I do not See as clearly as I once did, little one, and I am not quite certain just what thee are, but I think that thee will be important to us someday. I would stay to make certain thee are well, cousin, but we have grave news to bring to our kin. We may not delay any longer. Fare thee well, Maurynna Kyrissaean.*

  The great head snapped up. Linden grabbed Maurynna and tugged her back as the truedragon spread his wings. The others followed suit.

  “We must give them room,” he said and pulled her into a stumbling run. Boreal loped alongside them as they ran to the side of the meadow.

  Maurynna stood at Linden’s side, arms tight around him once more, breathing much harder than she should be and shaken by Morlen’s final words. From the feel of his mindvoice, she suspected that he’d spoken only to her that time. She watched the truedragons crouch in preparation to jump.

  *Fare thee well, little cousins!* came a chorus of draconic mindvoices.

  With a mighty heave of his hind legs, Morlen launched himself into the air. Even from where she stood Maurynna could feel the backwash of air from the great wings as Morlen left the earth behind. Then Galinis and Talassaene sprang into the air after their leader, followed by Aumalaean and Aeld when the way was clear.

  What did he mean? Maurynna wondered as she watched the truedragons fly away.

  Nearly there. Lleld somehow forced her wings to beat a little faster. Time to angle up once more … . In another moment she would crest the ridge line and then she’d see—

  “Aaaaaaaaaahh!” Lleld screamed—the most she could do in dragon form—as she pulled up short and tumbled backwards through the air.

  For five enormous shapes had appeared as if out of nowhere in front of her. Only her small size had averted a disaster; Lleld was as nimble as a swallow, a tumbler in the air as well as on the ground.

  Still, it was a close thing. The sapphire blue truedragon she’d nearly collided with bellowed in angry surprise. Scarlet flames erupted from his mouth. Lleld clamped her wings to her body and dropped like a stone until she was out of range.

  Those flames had come too close for comfort.

  Your pardon, my lords! she yelled. I didn’t know you were—

  The truedragon roared and dove after her; his eyes shone with berserker rage. Lleld neatly reversed within her own length and prepared to fly for her life.

  *Enough, Aumalaean! Douse thy fires. It was naught but an honest mistake, and no harm was done,* said Morlen the Seer. *Little cousin, do not fear!*

  Lleld looked back over her shoulder, watched as Aumalaean struggled with his temper, saw when his leader’s command won. His jaws snapped shut with a sound like a portcullis crashing down. He glared at her, eyes glowing like red-hot coals.

  Despite Morlen’s reassurance, Lleld waited until the smoke pouring from Aumalaean’s nostrils became mere wisps before she joined the truedragons in their circling. It would be humiliating in the extreme to return to the Keep with a scorched tail. She’d never hear the end of it.

  Morlen said, *That was a pretty piece of fiying, little cousin.* His mindvoice was amused. *And if thee are well—which thee seem to be—then we will continue our journey to our homes. We bear desperate news.*

  There is a truedragon held captive in Jehanglan! Lleld crowed to herself in triumph. To Morlen she said respectfully, I am indeed well, my lord, and I thank you for the compliment.

  *Then we will be on our way. But I would ask thee to see to thy fellow Dragonlord
s, whom we left in the meadow. I think they are well enough now, but … *

  Dragonlords? Not just Linden, then. And “well enough now?”

  Lleld thought furiously. The only thing that would bring Linden in such haste was something threatening his soultwin. So Maurynna was down there, too; she must have ridden out. But what was the threat? Certainly not the truedragons, even if Aumalaean was a crabby sort of fellow. And how did Linden get hurt? She couldn’t wait to find out.

  It will be my pleasure, my lord.

  Was that a muffled laugh she felt in her mind? Before she could say anything, the five truedragons turned as one and flew north.

  *My thanks, little cousin,* came faintly into her mind. This time there was no mistaking the laugh. Lleld snorted; twin curls of smoke drifted up from her nostrils.

  What was so funny? she thought irritably. Then she remembered the charge laid upon her and brightened. This was going to be better than a bard’s tale.

  There were no surprises this time when she crested the ridgeline. Just Linden, Maurynna, and Boreal in the meadow below. Lleld tucked her wings and dived. Her very scales itched with the need to know.

  Distant bellows of rage reached their ears.

  “What is it?” Maurynna asked. Her body tensed beneath Linden’s arm and one hand flew to her belt dagger.

  “Something attacked the truedragons,” Linden said grimly. He moved away to give himself enough room to Change, cursing as his abused muscles protested.

  “Don’t even think of it, you idiot!” Maurynna yelled. “You’re hurt.” She grabbed the front of his tunic and jerked him close until their noses nearly touched. “Whatever it is, there’s nothing one lame Dragonlord can do to help five truedragons, do you hear? We’ll mindcall all the others—”

  Linden glowered at her, annoyed at the reminder of his injuries. It didn’t help that she was right, blast it all. But it irked him beyond belief to be helpless when—