“It is still preferable to limit movement until I see what injuries he sustained.” He glances over where Jadrun stands, surveying their surroundings. “Nor Jadrun, if you would, please find a source of water.”
Kilita points her chin to the east. “A brook runs through the woods a short ways that direction.”
He runs his gaze across the wing nearest him, noting the Killer Frost damage on its end. “Fine, Nor Jadrun, there are water flasks in my pack and I need them filled.”
“Certainly.” The brawny man strides to the pack and sorts through it, withdraws the flasks, and heads the indicated direction.
Continuing his examination, he moves toward the dragon’s neck. Where the neck joins the body a wound swells with scales puckering upward like an open pinecone, obviously a bite mark. He runs his fingers over the scales of the neck moving along toward the head. Maru’s head is slung to the side and he has a view of the top. He scrambles up till he can reach and stroke the ridge plate in front of the dragon’s horns; it seems to bulge more than usual. The plate is hot to the touch.
Kneeling beside the horns, he rubs his hands together until an amber glow emanates from his palms. Calling upon the three elements of man—body, soul, and spirit—he can feel the warmth of them coalescing within him. The warmth and flow of the Healing wave soon eliminates the slight chill from the air around him. He places his hands on the frontal plate and focuses on 'Seeing' within.
It takes a moment to penetrate the thick frontal plate; the plate’s dense material is fractured with tiny cracks, like ice cracking on a winter pond. Lower in, the surface of the skull is depressed. The tide of Maru’s life river is blocked, the swelling of the surrounding tissue trapping the flow of Maru’s lifeblood.
The glow of his hands intensifies as he harnesses the Healing wave and concentrates on the depression. He focuses the power on lifting the bone. Perspiration breaks out across his body as he struggles to raise the bone back into place. The area is large, more then three handspans across, larger than any previous attempt he has made.
The muscle in his arms contracts as the amber glow surges and covers his forearms. Struggling against the swelling that holds the bone in place, he almost gives up when it finally moves. Only a fraction, but the depression lifts. Renewing his labors he calls upon the Lady to aid him in his efforts. Reaching for the dregs of his energy, he directs the power to pour into the bone. With a resounding pop, the bone surges upward, into place.
Fighting back exhaustion, he inspects the area beneath the raised skull. Maru’s life force pulsates through the tissue, restoring the lifeblood flow. Limp with fatigue, he knows it is time to withdraw.
His vision is slightly blurred as he pulls out of the trance. A brisk breeze raises gooseflesh on his arms and he shivers. Sinking to sit, he leans against the horn closest to him, his breath coming in short pants. The head beneath him rolls and he grabs the horn, his footwear sliding across the scales as he tries not to fall. Next to his foot, a red eye opens, rolling to peer up at him where he perches.
“Healer Geramn?” Maru’s Mindspeak is faint and a bit slurred.
Geramn pulls himself to kneel between the massive horns, grasping each to steady his position. “Welcome back, Maru.”
A soft sigh of relief draws his eyes to the green dragon. She moves closer, her head swinging down to hover above them. “My friend, it is good to see thee awake.”
The eye squints and darkens in pain. “How bad?”
“I have not had time to see to all of your injuries, but I think the blow to your head will heal. You need to lie still while I get my second wind, then I can complete my examination.”
Maru sighs and Geramn tightens his grip on the horns until the dragon settles, then he slides to the ground. He forces one foot in front of the other over to his pack. He picks up the discarded cloak, slings it around himself. Shivering, he hunches into the thick garment as he reaches a tree. He presses his back against the trunk, then slides down to settle against the base.
“Where is my mate?”
Kilita droops, glancing at Geramn with eyes filled with sorrow.
He shakes his head.
“She is not here right now.”
“Of course, she cares for the hatchlings. Was she injured?”
“I have not had time to examine her.” Geramn keeps his voice calm. “I will go up to the lair after we complete your second Healing.”
“That is well then.” Maru closes his eyes. “I still have an enormous headache.”
“It should improve, the lifeblood is now unimpeded, just give it time. I suggest you try to rest as I take time to recover.”
Geramn pulls his amber amulet from the neck of his tunic. He closes his sky-blue eyes and concentrates on rejuvenating his strength. The amber crystal pulses warm in his hand and he relaxes as a trickle of energy begins to flow from the crystal into his depleted reserves.
Maru begins to snore, the low rumbles vibrating the ground. Geramn glances at Kilita; the emerald-colored dragon has moved a short distance away and slumps beside a large oak. Her size dwarfs the magnificent tree; it looks like a sapling beside her.
Somewhat refreshed, he rises and walks over beside her. “I think we should take a look in the cavern.” He keeps his voice low, not wishing to disturb the slumbering dragon.
“Nor Geramn, there is nothing to do there, except prepare the hatchlings for burial.” Her Mindspeak is as soft as a whisper. She turns her gaze up and to the left. “Unless Aura managed to escape and return. Thou is right, we should check.”
Jadrun appears before him and Geramn jumps back.
“Sorry, it is quite a distance so I transported back.”
His hand on his chest, Geramn forces his voice to be steady when he says, “No problem, you just startled me.” He walks over and picks up his pack, then turns back to the Shaman. “Can you transport Kilita and I up to that ledge in front of the cavern? I wish to examine the hatchlings, in case any have survived.”
“Certainly.” Jadrun places the two water containers against a tree, then stands between the dragon and Geramn. Placing his hand on Kilita’s leg and the Healer’s shoulder, he locks his gaze on the ledge.
Geramn scrambles a bit on the uneven footing as they arrive. He nods his thanks to Jadrun. “Can you take that water you brought and pour it carefully down Maru’s sides? If you pour slowly, the scales can absorb the moisture. He needs to sleep and we shall be here a while.”
“Do you want me to go in with you first?”
“No, that is not necessary, but Maru is dehydrated, it would be best if you got back and started on him. Get at least a dozen of those water skins on him, then come back to get me, if you would.”
Jadrun nods and without a word disappears. Geramn peers over the ledge but can barely make out Maru near the clutter of broken trees. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he turns toward the entrance tunnel.
He pauses at the opening and pulls an orb from his pack; stroking the sides and murmuring the incantation, he sets it alight. He holds the light before him; its soft glow illuminates the smooth-walled passage all the way to a bend a good fifty strides in. He can hear the scrape of Kilita’s claws as she follows him in. The spicy scent of dragon is strong in the tunnel; as he moves along the passage the copper scent of blood and the rancid odor of rotting mushrooms wafts from the cavern.
He turns the corner and within a few strides a chamber opens up before him. Moving the orb in an arc, he recoils at the slaughter revealed in its glow. The hatchlings sprawl across the chamber, their jewel-colors splattered with blood.
A soft sob comes from behind him and he turns to look at Kilita; the green dragon sags in grief. “You do not need to remain, I can do this alone.”
“No Healer, I shall stay. I need to take them and prepare them for burial. It would not do for their sire to see them thus.”
He nods. The temperature warms as he steps deeper into the vast slightly oval cavern. An orange hatchling lies closest to
the entrance, its neck bent and trapped under its body. He gestures for Kilita to help him and together they straighten the male and Geramn checks for any sign of life. There is none.
He gestures for Kilita to remove the body and she tucks the hatchling’s torn wings to its side and lifts it in her mouth.
“I shall take him to a place where we may perform the burial rights and burn the bodies. I will return momentarily for the others.”
The dragon turns and starts into the tunnel as he makes his way to a red female with a large gash across her chest. Again, no sign of life. His heart aches at the horror still evident in the dead gaze of the hatchling. How could the Lady allow such atrocities to continue? Over and over he has witnessed the murder of the young by the Volastoque. Murmuring a prayer that the hatchling finds peace, he moves on.
He is examining the fifth hatchling when Kilita returns and removes another, wordlessly leaving with the red female in her mouth. He kneels beside a blue female and sets down his orb and massages his eyes. The only sound in the cavern is that of his breathing. His head jerks to the left, focusing his attention toward the back of the cavern. He thought he heard another exhale. He holds his breath, listening. Yes, faint but it was there.
Geramn grabs the orb and scrambles to his feet. He rushes past a blue hatchling that was torn nearly in two. He searches the area, but cannot see any other hatchlings. Holding his breath, he listens intently. Yes, farther back. Almost running, he heads the direction of the breathing. A sharp hiss fills the chamber. Geramn jerks to stop. Wedged into a crevice at the back of the chamber two golden eyes reflect the light of his orb.
“Thank the Lady, one survived.” Geramn sinks to his knees in relief. The back of his head itches and feelings of terror and aggression fill his brain. The poor thing did not understand Geramn was here to help.
A sharp caw comes from the crevice and Geramn scuttles away. The terrified baby is larger than a draft horse; he does not need to make it feel threatened. He glances over his shoulder, wondering how long it will be until Kilita returns.
Silence once more descends on the cavern. Geramn checks the last hatchling that he had not examined. Also no sign of life. He settles on his heels, placing the orb on the stone floor before him. Mewling, soft and barely audible, drifts from the crevice. Geramn’s heart constricts at the sound, picturing his own daughter, scared and alone. What can he do to comfort the poor thing?
The image of his mate, singing as she cradles little Rekia in her arms soothing a bad dream, flashes in his mind.
He clears his throat.
“Sleep, little one, sleep.
The moons are high above.
There is no reason to weep.
I will shelter you with my love.
Close your eyes and rest.
There is no need to fear.
For I shall do my best.
To keep you safe and near.”
Geramn pauses, grimacing at his gravely voice and the poor rendition of the lovely song. He scratches the back of his head; the itching intensifies and a sense of wonder and curiosity enter his mind.
He cannot remember the next verses. The sound of claws scraping comes from the crevice and he can see the V of a bright-green snout.
“Well, I am not much of a singer, but if it helps.” He starts the song over again. He is on the third repeat of the stanzas he can remember when Kilita returns. He stands and turns to see her enter the cavern, astonishment gleaming in her eyes.
“Thou sings?”
“There is one hatchling survivor; he hides here—in the crevice at the back.” Geramn gestures toward the place the hatchling is concealed. “He is frightened and confrontational… I thought it may soothe him until you returned.”
Kilita rushes across the cavern. “Is he injured?”
Shaking his head, Geramn holds the light high to illuminate as much as the crevice as possible. “I do not know, he will not come out.”
Kilita lowers her bulk in front of the crack. “Come little one, we will not harm thee. I am a friend of thy dama and sire.”
The scuffle of claws comes from the cavern, but the hatchling remains hidden.
“Thy sire, Maru, rests below the cavern. He would love to see thee.” Kilita’s Mindspeak is almost a croon as she lowers her head to rest it on the stone floor of the cavern.
From the shadow of the crevice the soft caw of the hatchling sounds confused.
“Is thou hungry, little one?” Kilita slides her head forward a tiny amount.
Geramn’s head itches to the point of distraction and thoughts of food overwhelm him. “I would take that as a yes.”
Kilita turns her gaze to him. “Thou can sense his thoughts?”
“Only as emotions.”
“That is all this youngling can do, he is not old enough for Mindspeak yet. Hmm, I know of few humans who can pick up the hatchling’s thought patterns.”
“We have provisions, Jadrun brought some.”
A draconic chuckle fills his mind. “Thy food will not sustain this hatchling. I must hunt.” Turning her attention back to the crack in the back wall she says, “I shall return as quickly as I can with something for thou to eat. Know that this human will not harm thee, we are here to help.”
Kilita rises and, picking up another of the corpses, she moves quickly out of the tunnel.
He sighs, running his hand through his black hair; he settles on a low ledge near the back of the cavern and resumes singing. If this is the only comfort he can offer this single survivor, he will sing.
Chapter 9
Rejack twists to avoid the blast of Killer Frost that surges toward his bronze wing. He folds his wings and plummets groundward, but the Volastoque streak right behind him.
Three of the beasts.
Alone, he stood little chance against them. The sharp crags of the Exeda Mountains rush up at him. He jerks his wings open and beats frantically in an attempt to build upon the speed his dive gives him. His neck stretches out and he brings his legs tighter against his body as he pushes for speed.
He may make it.
His hunting took him far from the battle covey’s lairs. If he can keep ahead of the creatures long enough to get close, the dragons of his battle covey should hear his summons for help.
A screech causes him to jerk his head to look behind him. One of the three, the largest beast, is gaining. The deep-tan creature is close enough that Rejack sees the ragged, healed burns on his upper set of wings.
An experienced fighter then.
Rejack swings his neck forward and grimly forces his wings faster. He can just make out the distinctive crown of the mountain above the lairs. He draws extra air into his lungs and bellows out a cry for help.
No response.
A white blast from behind barely misses the top plane of his bronze wings. The frigid cold discharge sends a chill wind over his wing tops. By the Lady, that was too close. His muscles are afire from his efforts. He risks a glance back; the largest beast gains on him.
Briefly, he wishes he had not been so successful in his hunt. If he was not bloated from the consumption of those two deer, he could fly faster. He can feel their weight in his distended abdomen, dragging him down.
He glances at the cloudbank to his left, then back forward. He will have to hide. The cloudbank may be his only hope of survival. Tilting his wings, he manages a burst of speed that plunges him into their grey depths.
“I need aid, I am under attack. Northeast of the lair, in a cloud bank.” His Mindspeak blasts out as loudly as he can send. He dares no verbalization the Volastoque may hear and hopes it will be enough. Deep in the boiling depths of the cloud, he settles into a hover. He tries to keep his wings as silent as possible and forces his pants to subside into quiet breaths.
The deep fog of the cloud swirls as a shape darts past in front of him. Rejack tucks his wings a bit and drops lower in the cloud. The wind of a second beast’s passage blasts past where he hovered a moment ago.
Tension vi
brates his muscles. He focuses every sense. He attempts to locate the creatures in the thick, grey haze. He can not find them. Relaxing slightly, he reminds himself they will not be able to find him either.
The clouds around him darken, rolling in a simmer as a rumble fills the thick air. A storm. A storm builds within the cloudbank.
Rejack begins a slow flight toward the north. He dare not fly any faster then necessary to keep him airborne, lest the disturbance in the cloud give away his location. When possible he drifts more westerly. However, the cloud cover will not allow him to fly directly toward the lair and remain under cover.
“Help! Three Volastoque have me pinned in a cloudbank, northeast of the lair. I need aid, immediately.” He listens. Yes, very faint and unclear, yet he heard a reply.
A creature shrieks; the sound is above him and close. The dark cloud is lit by a flicker and static runs across his scales. Lightning. The lightning charge building in the cloud will fry him if he is in the cloud when the charge has built enough strength.
His shoulder and back muscles coil as he readies himself. He must leave this cloud. Taking several deep breaths, he forces his wings downward and angles to break free from the cloudbank. A shriek cuts across the air. Damn it, one of the creatures hovers below the cloud and has spotted him.
Rejack’s eyes lock on the mountain crown above the lairs and he flattens out, concentrating on making all speed possible. The cloud rolls and grumbles with thunder and the sharp calls of the three Volastoque fill the air behind him as they resume the chase.
“Ease to true north a bit.” Rejack recognizes the Mindspeak of Mucal. Relief washes through him as he adjusts his flight.
“Lower, just above the treetops.” Rejack can barely make out the blue head of Mucal, his form hidden in the crags ahead. He lowers his flight until his wings almost brush the treetops at their lowest point of his strokes. “Steady, steady.” Mucal holds his position as a green and a red dragon’s head peeks toward Rejack. He sweeps over the ridge and flies past the three dragons concealed in the gully.
“NOW!” Mucal roars. The air behind Rejack fills with battle fire as it envelopes the closest pursuing Volastoque. He braces the front edge of his wings upwards, stalls, and then flips to join the three dragons as they burst from concealment to engage with the creatures.
Dragon Nemesis Page 6