Her gaze rakes across the mountains, the near-nude trees allow her to see clear through to the ground. Nothing stirs around the Point; the warm rays of the sun and the slight breeze make the day pleasant.
She glances once more at the sun’s position. It is at the midpoint of the sky. She will wait another hour. Then, if no one arrives, she will commence on her own.
~!~
Geramn’s mouth drops open as he gazes across the immense Healing cavern. By the Lady, it is over four times larger than others he has seen. It will easily hold over two dozen dragons in the Healing waters alone, and another three dozen in the adjacent convalescing chambers. His head tilts back. The high ceiling arcing over the lake is lost in the darkness overhead. Geramn snaps his mouth shut, his gaze following the perimeter of the chamber. Waves of different colored crystals encrust the walls, giving it a shimmer in the faint light. Hundreds of oblong light orbs are scattered along the walls, their light giving the cavern the illumination of dusk.
Three dragons lie submerged in the water, two with only their heads or just their nostrils above the surface. A young, bright-yellow female, with her left wing shattered and floating upon the warm waters, appears to be the most severely injured. The second dragon is an aged brown male; he entered the waters as they arrived and Geramn saw his right hind leg is supported by a brace. The long dragon beard the brown displays tells him the dragon is well over three hundred years old. The brown now lies submerged with only his nostrils above the water.
The Shaman who transported them promised to return in an hour to take Geramn to the refugee quarters in Kitloch. Until he has been there himself, he cannot transport to the location. As badly as he wishes to find and see his family, he must ensure arrangements are made for Maru and Falcop first.
Falcop stands trembling on the shore as Maru, with small puffs of smoke drifting from his nostrils, eases into the warm water. The green hatchling rushes to stand beside his sire’s head as Maru lays it on the bank. The hatchling turns frightened eyes to him as Geramn walks over to stroke his neck.
“It will be all right. Your sire can heal more rapidly here. Other Healers will work together to take care of his injuries quickly.” He hums and strokes the young dragon until he calms. A couple of scales flake off in Geramn’s hand. He holds them, marveling at the strong, resilient texture. He tucks them in his pocket, sure they will fascinate his boys. Several more come loose as he continues to stroke the hatchling. He realizes Falcop is growing. That is the reason he sheds. He looks along Falcop’s body. Although his ribs are no longer prominent, Geramn can clearly see the faint depressions under the green scales.
Geramn turns his gaze back to inspecting the cavern. An area not too far away holds deer carcasses for the feeding of the dragons. He gestures that direction. “Come with me, Falcop, and we will see that you are fed and find you a place to sleep.”
“Go with him, my son. All will be well.” Maru’s deep-red eyes fasten on Geramn. “See that the place he sleeps is where I can see him.”
“Certainly. Maru, you have nothing to fear. Everyone here has his best interests at heart.”
“Healer, mine mate is missing and this is the last of my fifty-seven offspring yet living.” Maru’s eyes twirl like a blood whirlpool. “Thou will understand if I am concerned for his welfare.”
Geramn drops his eyes, chagrined that he has not given more thought to Maru’s feelings. “I will see that he is given a place close-by.”
Maru nudges his son. “Go with him; it does my heart well to see thee feed.”
The rasp of scales accompanies Falcop rubbing his cheek against that of his sire. Geramn escorts him to the feeding station and selects a medium-sized goat for the hatchling.
Falcop sets upon the meal with gusto.
Geramn averts his gaze as the green hatchling plunges his snout into the animal’s entrails. Although he wants Falcop to feed well, the actual process is more than he can stomach. Even the slurping and crunching of bones causes him to swallow convulsively several times. He moves a few strides away and continues his perusal of the chamber.
Maru is the closest dragon to the shore. His black body is completely submerged, his silver mane, ridges and wings appearing salmon-colored under the amber-colored water. Three Healers arrive beside him. A tall, lithe woman with three diagonal amber slashes and a star arcing over them across the front of her robe designating her as a Head Healer begins an exam. Maru slumps into an induced sleep and the other two Healers join her in a Healing trance, concentrating on repairing Maru’s head injury.
The cavern bustles with activity. To his right, a smaller alcove contains sleeping platforms and he can see several are filled with convalescing people. He looks once more at Maru, his eyes following the path directly in front of the black and silver dragon. There is another small chamber in the wall. Yes, that would give Maru an unobstructed view of his hatchling.
Turning back to Falcop, he sees the hatchling is slowing in his feeding, having consumed the forequarters of the goat. He strides to beside him.
He reaches toward the hindquarters. “Here, let me take that to where you will sleep. Then you can finish it when you awake.”
Falcop’s neck lowers and his wings thrust out as a low growl rumbles in his chest.
Geramn stops, staring at the hatchling. “Falcop, I gave it to you. I am not taking it away, I simply want to move you to a sleeping area.”
The rumble ceases and the green hatchling lifts the goat remains, tilting his head, and his eyes swirl. Geramn can feel a sense of impatience at the back of his mind.
“Very well, you can carry it yourself.” He gestures in the direction of the small chamber. “Come along.” He walks that direction, looking over his shoulder to make sure the hatchling follows. Falcop falls into step behind him, the front hooves and head of the goat beating a rhythm against his throat.
The alcove is about eight times the size of the hatchling. The walls are smooth to the touch, almost like glass. Layers of colors undulate across the surfaces, giving a pleasant pattern to the walls. Six orbs are mounted on the walls; the light they emit shimmers across the surface and makes it bright enough to see well in the chamber. This will suit admirably. Geramn looks at Maru. The dragon will have a good view of his offspring while remaining in the Healing waters.
Falcop moves into the alcove, dropping his goat and laying one fore-talon on it as he tears a chunk free. Bedding. Falcop will need bedding for a nest. Geramn flips his black hair back from his eyes, scratching absently at his neck as his gaze searches the cavern looking for the stockpile of bedding he knows has to be here.
Four young men walk toward the alcove that holds the human sleeping platforms, each laden with earthen jars on trays.
Geramn moves to intercept them. “Excuse me.”
A blond youth of about fifteen winters stops; his gaze drops to the three diagonal amber slashes on the front of Geramn’s filthy tunic. His head nodding in respect, he says, “Healer, how my I help you?”
Geramn gestures to the alcove behind him. “This hatchling will need bedding, enough to make a comfortable nest for him in this alcove.”
The youth glances at the alcove, then back to the three other youths who have continued on. “We deliver these to the Healing chamber over there.” He gestures with his chin. “But we can bring the bedding afterward.”
“My thanks; I shall remain here until you return to place the bedding.”
“We can do that, Nor; we often take care of the bedding for the dragons.”
“This hatchling has been through a lot. I think it best he is only approached by someone he knows right now.”
“Of course.” The youth nods again. “I shall return as soon as possible.” He strides off, following the others.
Geramn strolls back to the alcove entrance. Falcop is still eating, although he appears to be slowing considerably. Geramn pulls his pack from his back and reaches into it, extracting a water skin. He pops open the top and squirts a
stream of water into his mouth. His stomach grumbles, reminding him it has been several hours since his last meal. He grabs several strips of deer jerky from his pack and then closes it. Dropping the pack against the wall, he sits and leans back upon it, taking a bite of the jerky.
The Healers working on Maru are still in a Healing trance. He smiles, glad to see the dragon getting the help he needs. He consumes three of the deer strips, washing them down with the tepid water. Glancing into the alcove, he sees that the bright-green hatchling has settled to gnaw on the skull of the deer, having eaten the rest.
The four youths return, each carrying two bales of straw. Geramn scrambles to his feet, closing his skin and tossing it down on his pack.
“My thanks,” he says, indicating they should leave the bales near his pack. “I will see to it from here.”
The youth he spoke to before drops his bales, tugging on his forelock. “Healer…”
“Geramn,” he supplies.
“I am Montello. Healer Geramn, we can bring the bedding nextday and remove the soiled bedding if you like.”
Geramn nods. “Yes, I appreciate that.” He grabs one bale and takes it into the center of the chamber. Pulling his knife from the sheath at his belt, he slices the binding twine. “I am not sure how long Falcop will remain in this chamber.” He tucks the twine in a pocket and spreads the straw. “The black and silver dragon is his sire; Falcop will remain here until Maru is whole again.”
The youth tosses the next bale into the chamber. It lands with a resounding thump beside Geramn, causing the hatchling to jerk his head high and glare at the youth.
“Easy, Falcop, they mean you no harm.”
Falcop’s gaze remains vigilant as he resumes chewing the skull.
Three of the youths leave; Montello continues to pitch the bales into the chamber as Geramn needs them. Soon he has a thick, soft nest ready for the green hatchling.
Geramn walks over to Falcop and strokes his neck for a moment. He is amazed at the texture of the scales. Smooth as a babe’s bottom, beneath his hand, they depress into the skin below, making them feel soft. Yet, they are harder than stone. The scales reflect the light from the orbs, their bright-green color reminding him of the new growth of grass in spring.
“Come along, Falcop; let us get you settled in your nest.” He tugs on the ridge at the base of the hatchling’s neck, trying to coax him to the nest.
Falcop ignores him.
Geramn coaxes for several moments, then, exasperated, he slaps the shoulder ridge of the hatchling. “Get your butt up! I have to leave in a moment. I want you in your nest first.”
Falcop turns his gaze upon him and the back of his skull begins to tingle.
“I cannot understand what you want.” Geramn scratches at the base of his skull. “I will return nextday.” He gestures out to the water at Maru. “You shall remain here until your sire is well.”
The hatchling rises to his feet and grudgingly shuffles over to plop upon the nest, then resumes chewing on the skull.
“Does he understand what you say?” Montello’s liquid brown eyes are as wide as platters.
“I am not sure how much he comprehends.”
“Does he Mindspeak to you?”
“No, he is young yet for that. I get sensations from him on occasion.”
The youth lifts a hand, scratching at the base of his skull. “Yeah, I think I picked up on the disgruntled attitude when you made him move.”
“Did you now, lad. I get some from him, but did not pick that up. Except, of course, from his body language.” Geramn joins the youth at the alcove entrance. “Perhaps we should take some time nextday to get the two of you acquainted. I am not sure where I will be assigned next and Falcop may very well be here for a drama or more.”
Burgundy suffuses the young man’s neck and face as he stutters, “I would really like that.”
Geramn grins. “Do you know the lullaby ‘Sleep, Little One, Sleep’?”
Montello’s eyebrows V as he turns puzzled eyes to Geramn. “Ah, yes.”
Geramn pats the young man on the shoulder. “If you have naught else to do right now, sing to him. Falcop calms to that song. Stay here; do not enter for right now. But I think if you sing a while it will let him know you are a friend.” He glances over where the Shaman who transported them into the cavern has arrived beside Maru.
“I need to leave, I shall return later this nightfall. Stay with him till he sleeps, please.” Geramn grabs his water skin, shoves it in his pack, and shoulders the pack strap. His step has a spring to it that belies his exhaustion as he makes his way to the Shaman. He can hear Montello’s soft singing; the lad sounds like a bullfrog. Maru stirs when he arrives.
“Your hatchling has fed.” Geramn gestures to the alcove. “He rests within that small chamber. The lad, Montello, will stay with him until he sleeps.”
“My thanks, Healer.”
“I shall see you later.” Geramn turns to the Shaman. “My family came from Assuran; can you take me where they are quartered?”
The Shaman nods. “I know the place, if you are ready?”
Geramn smiles. “You have no idea how ready.”
Chapter 13
Kilita bugles a greeting as five dragons appear in tight formation in the skies above Shadrock Point. An immense bronze turns toward her. The sun glints off his body, highlighting many battle scars. It is Rejack, brother to her mate, Timac. Two of the dragons hold Shaman in their talons, their means of transportation. She watches as the dragons circle low near a clearing, hovering to allow the Shaman to unclip and drop to the ground.
Rejack flies close to her, nodding his head as he hovers. “Greetings Kilita, mate of my brother.”
“It is good to see thee, Rejack.”
“I heard of Timac falling at Taloxville. Know that if thou needs anything, I shall do my best to provide.”
“Thank thee.” Kilita forces her thoughts from her dead mate. She does not have time to mourn until they have rescued Aura. Aura will never be free unless they kill the Volastoque that barbed her. “I believe we need to search to the north-east. It was the direction the attack came from.”
Kilita thrusts her wings downward and with a mighty leap she is airborne. “There is a chance we may catch up with them this day, if we hurry. The creature that took her sustained an injury, perhaps they did not get far.” She glances down at the two Shaman who have begun to gather firewood. “They remain here?”
“For three days, they shall await our return. In case Aura needs transported to Kitloch.”
“I know she took a hit of Killer Frost to her wings, another reason they may not have gotten far.”
The dragons spread out, each only able to see the dragons to each side of them so they are able to perform a wide sweep.
The landscape below surges with mountains slowly fading from the vivid colors of autumn to the drab grays and browns of early winter. The crags and sharp faces of the mountains were once heavily laden with the lairs of dragons. Not so much any more. Over the last five years most dragon pairs fled farther south.
Her gaze searches the ground below. She will miss the Renault Mountains. Their love of the location kept her and Timac here as others left. They had only just decided to make their move when Maru and his mate were able to leave. Aura’s clutch of eggs had held her at her lair, and then the additional delay until the hatchlings could fly the required distance.
Once again, images of the slaughtered hatchlings fill her mind. She cannot imagine what vileness must make up these creatures that they could murder the young. She hated them with every fiber in her being. Yet… She still does not think she could kill a clutch of their offspring. Executing the young went against everything the Lady taught them.
She looks to her left; a bright-yellow male scours the land beneath him. She does not know his name, but has seen him at the battle for Taloxville. Blotches of discolored scales show where he has healed from blasts of Killer Frost. Long, jagged scars run along his s
ides and the membranes in his wings are almost the color of butter, a sign they have recently healed.
So many have been hurt, or fallen in the defense against the creatures. The human population sustains more losses than the dragons, yet the dragons have lost more than sixty percent of their kind.
A movement below catches her eye and she swoops lower to investigate. A hatchling. By the Lady, it is an injured hatchling.
“I have found another victim.” She broadcasts in public Mindspeak. She can hear the message being relayed by the other dragons as she circles to land near the brown hatchling. The babe sprawls on its side; one wing flutters weakly as it hears her land and its head flops toward her. Its neck spasms as it threatens her with a feeble hiss.
“I will not hurt thee, little one,” Kilita Mindspeaks and lowers her neck to touch the rock-strewn ground. She looks up the steep incline behind the hatchling. A ledge protrudes from the stone side of the mountain. “I think there is a lair above.” She sees the yellow dragon veer to land on the outcropping.
“I will check,” the yellow Mindspeaks, then disappears from sight.
The hatchling is a bit larger than Maru’s. The frantic sending that batters her mind is filled with fear and pain.
“There are two dead adults and nine dead hatchlings up here.” Horror drips from the yellow’s Mindspeak. “It appears that some of the bodies are partially eaten.”
“Who?” Rejack asks as he arrives.
“I do not recognize the mated pair; the female is red, the male almost purple in color.”
“Semic and Gealm,” Kilita says. “I thought they already left to go south. I was not aware Gealm had a clutch.”
The other three dragons arrive, swirling in large circles over their location.
Rejack lands beside her, then looks skyward. “Mucal, return and bring the two Shaman here.” His massive bronze head lifts to regard the ledge where the yellow stands. “It will take a few hours to get the victims’ funeral completed.”
A blue dragon breaks off and flies swiftly in the direction of Shadrock point.
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