Kilita gazes at the brown hatchling, which has begun to calm, curling into a circle around himself as he emits a soft mewling sound. “We cannot wait that long. To do so risks that the Volastoque we seek will have time to join up with those who killed here.”
Rejack nods. “Mucal, we shall travel onward. Thou shall remain and help safeguard this hatchling and see him to the caverns at Kitloch.”
Kilita’s heart wrenches as she watches the injured hatchling tremble. She inches closer. The brown snarls and bares his tiny teeth in a show of defiance. Remembering Geramn humming to Falcop, she begins a soothing melody. Her voice lifts in the warbling tones of dragon voice as she once again inches forward.
“I am going to look in the lair.” Rejack lifts from the ground with a couple of strong wing beats.
Kilita does not bother to answer. The last thing she wants to see is more slaughtered hatchlings. The brown lowers his head, once again trembling as he tries to make himself as small as possible. She edges beside him and lifts one wing to drape over him. She tucks her head under her wing, pressing her cheek tenderly against the hatchling’s neck.
The hatchling’s tremors lessen, and she snugs him closer to her side and withdraws her head from under her wing. A shadow passes over her and Kilita looks up to see the yellow, carrying the body of a green hatchling, launch from the ledge. She watches with eyes whirling with heartache and anger as he flies to a nearby clearing and deposits the body.
Another funeral pyre will soon light the sky.
The anger surges through her, becoming a molten flow of rage. These innocents shall be avenged.
~!~
Geramn and his guide appear beside a mural of dragons in flight. The wall is smooth as glass and the mural’s details etch the surface and are colored by some means that sets them aglow in the soft light. The mural is at least twenty strides long and perhaps ten high and covers one side of a chamber bustling with people. The buzz of conversation comes from several small clusters of people while children chase each other through the crowd in play.
“This is where the Assuran refugees are quartered.” The Shaman gestures to a raised area near the center with several people sitting upon stools behind large tables filled with parchment. “They have lists of assigned apartments; you should have no problem locating your family.”
“My thanks.” Geramn tugs his forelock and rapid steps take him toward the center platform. Three massive oak tables, their surfaces smooth as glass, are situated in a triangle pattern on top of the platform. Scrolls and books are piled high on all three. The chairs around the table are filled with people perusing the scrolls or writing in ledgers. Geramn pauses at the bottom of the platform, trying to decide who it is he needs to approach.
A stooped-shouldered elder, his hair sticking up in silver wisps around a bald crown, looks down at Geramn. “What is it you need, Healer?”
Geramn tugs on his forelock. “I seek information on my family’s location. They came from Assuran.”
The elder’s bleary eyes rove the table, then he gestures for a brown-haired youth to hand him a large ledger. The tomb lands with a loud thump in front of the elder and he scowls at the youth, who blushes and lowers his eyes. The elder runs a gnarled hand over the tomb’s cover, peering at the script across the front. He nods and glances at Geramn. “What is the Sire name?”
“My name is Geramn.”
Geramn fidgets while the old man opens the book and slowly turns pages. He clears his throat on occasion as the elder leans forward to squint at the parchment only inches from his long nose.
The old man runs a finger down three-quarters the length of a page. His finger stops and he licks his lips. “Mate, Sheina, and three children?” He raises soot-grey eyes to meet Geramn’s gaze.
“Yes, that would be them.”
The elder nods; his gaze rakes a handful of boys standing a short distance from the platform. “Elish, come here.”
A stout lad of perhaps twelve winters separates from the others and ambles over, tugging on his black hair as he arrives beside Geramn. He folds his hands in front of him and waits politely for the elder to speak.
“You know the third cavern?” The elder gestures to his right.
“Yes, Nor,” Elish says.
“Apartment two-oh-two. This Healer needs to be directed there. See that you return promptly.” The old man closes the book and shoves it aside to resume his perusal of the scroll he worked on previously.
“My thanks, Nor.” Geramn tugs on his forelock.
The elder waves a dismissive hand at him, not even looking up.
The lad turns with a friendly smile to Geramn and gestures that he should follow. Elish leads him, across the tide of people flowing through the cavern, toward an arch on the right.
They enter a spacious tunnel and join the flow on the right side. An entrance to a large cavern comes up on their left, but Elish shakes his head, continuing down the tunnel.
“You are not from Assuran, are you?” Geramn asks as they walk along. “I should remember you as I have boys almost your age.”
Elish glances at him; a hint of anger glints in his eyes. “No. I am one of the few survivors from Preloch.”
“My sister and her family were there. Tecla, mated to Fancur.”
Elish, his face tight with emotion, replies, “I knew her sons.”
“Knew?” Geramn puts a hand on Elish’s arm to stop him. “Are they not here, with the others?”
The traffic of the tunnel flows around them for a moment as Elish stares at the stone floor. Finally his green eyes lift to meet Geramn’s gaze. “Both perished at Preloch.” He clears his throat. “I am so sorry to be the one to tell you.”
Geramn sways and moves his hand to press against the smooth sides of the tunnel as a tidal wave of grief washes over him. “Both?”
“And Fancur.” Elish takes a deep breath then rushes on. “Your sister was grievously injured. I understand the Healers still work with her to restore her ability to walk.”
Geramn closes his eyes, remembering his mate’s message only said that Tecla was there with Sheina; he assumed that meant that she and her family were safe and unharmed.
Tecla’s boys were a couple winters older than his own sons. Only this past winter he had stood bursting with pride beside his sister as the eldest, Davigh, made his pledge to enter the ranks of Healers as apprentice. They were gone, along with their sire. By the Lady, his sister must be devastated, to loose her mate, her children, and be so injured at one time. His chest aches with the anguish of loss. He takes several steadying breaths as Elish waits patiently beside him. Finally, he pushes away from the wall and gestures that they should continue.
He tries to push the sorrow deep inside. He must not greet his family with this weighing on him.
Elish moves across the tide of people as they come to the third arch. “In here.” He motions they should exit the tunnel. A large, bowl-shaped cavern opens before them. Stairs have been carved in the sides to reach five different levels that hold doorways. Elish makes his way to the closest stairs that wind up the sides. Taking the stairs two at a time, he pauses to wait for Geramn at the second level. “It is the second apartment that way.” He points to the left. “The number two-zero-two is carved on the face of the door.”
“My thanks.” Geramn pats the youth on the shoulder as he passes, pasting a smile on his face to greet his family.
Chapter 14
Kilita and three of the dragons wing northeast. Rage pulses through her; the other three fly with grim fortitude, searching. Their formation spreads across a wide swathe of the Renault Mountains. They fly slowly, with their gazes alert to the sky and the ground below them.
Eleven dead and one survivor—the hatchling severely injured at Semic and Gealm’s lair—and seven dead, one missing at that of Maru and Aura. Her wings falter as her mind shudders in horror. Are the beasts targeting the lairs with hatchlings? She jerks her wings into motion and shakes her head at the look from
Rejack, who flies closest to her.
She searches her mind. Where are the other lairs in the vicinity with young?
As far as she knows, all have left the area. But then again, she thought Semic and Gealm had already headed south. She struggles with the thought. If she does not bring it up, so that Rejack can send a dragon to warn them, others may die. But, they are already reduced to four in the search. If they come across the Volastoque who controls Aura, and he joined with a covey, they are already low in numbers for the confrontation.
An image of the cringing brown hatchling pops into her mind.
“Rejack, there are four other lairs in the Renault Mountains that produced young this season.”
The Bronze turns his head to contemplate her; she can see his eyes open wide as her implication sinks in. Kilita tilts her wings to the left to broaden the area she searches as she listens to Rejack instruct the other two dragons as to the location of the lairs. The bright-yellow male dragon and the smaller green dragon turn and pelt through the sky toward different locations of lairs, to give warning or search for survivors.
Rejack swings to the right, and flies a wide, zigzag pattern that allows him to encompass the area the green vacated. Kilita settles into a similar flight pattern, her heart heavy at the thought of what the two dragons may find.
~!~
Geramn raps on the door. His gaze drops to his soiled clothing. He should have taken a moment to clean up before coming. The sound of a light footstep comes from within and his breath catches in his throat as his mate opens the door.
Sheina’s emerald eyes open wide and, with a squeal, she flings herself into his arms.
He enfolds her small body against his chest and leans to bury his nose in her jet-black tresses. He inhales deeply. The familiar scent of his mate, reminiscent of crisp cucumbers, immediately makes him feel at home. He kisses the top of her head.
Sheina pulls a few inches away and her hands rise to settle on each side of his face. The emerald depth of her eyes draws him in as she inspects him through shimmering tears. “By the Lady, I have missed you.” She drops her arms to clutch his neck and stands on tiptoe to press her lips against his in a deep kiss.
Geramn’s heart pounds in his ears by the time he releases her.
“Sire?”
Geramn looks over his mate’s head to see his sons. He steps into the apartment and opens his arms and the two boys rush to fill them as Sheina slips away. He ruffles his eldest Bren’s black shock of hair—so like his dama’s—and marvels at the height the ten-winters-old boy shot up since last he saw him. Jiles, at eight winters, is a chubby replica of Geramn, from his black hair and sky-blue eyes to the same broad, flat cheekbones. The boys’ laughter is a balm to his soul as he tousles with his sons.
“Someone else would like to see her sire.”
Geramn turns to find his mate standing in the archway leading into the room, holding little Rekia. The one-winter-old little girl regards him with solemn brown eyes as she sucks on two fingers. His eyes mist as he takes in the lovely image of his mate holding their daughter. Sheina’s eyes are warm with love and her lips lift in a soft smile. Abundant curls, the color of butter, frame Rekia’s face, giving her an adorable halo.
He eases across the room, so as not to frighten the child, and runs one finger along her chubby arm. “She is as beautiful as her dama,” he says, his gaze lifting to meet Sheina’s.
“And ornery as her sire.” Sheina chuckles. Slipping her empty arm about his waist, she walks him over to a pile of large cushions in front of a fireplace. She lowers Rekia into the cushions and motions that he should sit beside the child as she settles behind her daughter.
Geramn eases down beside his child and motions the two boys over to join them. Tranquility fills him as he gazes at his family. Then his throat tightens, picturing the devastation at Maru’s lair and remembering the deaths of his nephews and brother-by-mating. By the Lady, there is so much at stake in this battle against the creatures.
~!~
The sun pulls in her skirts and tucks them away causing shadows to sweep across the mountains beneath Kilita as the fiery orb settles on the horizon. Kilita lifts her searching gaze to study the skyline. Nothing, only a few sparse clouds with their underbellies glowing in the setting sun break the deep blue of the sky. She can barely make out Rejack as the bronze dragon continues his sweeps to the east.
As she watches, Rejack dives groundward and his battle roar breaks the quiet. Her right wing dips and she turns, forcing strong downward thrusts as she rushes toward where Rejack disappears from view. She sideslips, loosing altitude rapidly to skim the barren treetops.
There.
Aura’s mahogany form stands in front of a narrow, twisting canyon, really no more than a crevice cutting into the slate sides of the mountain. Her posture causes Kilita to swallow hard, for Aura defends the Volastoque crouched well behind her in the same manner she stood against the beasts at her nest.
Rejack circles in the air above the area, seeking a means to get past Aura and attack the Volastoque. The walls of the narrow canyon are too high, and steep; he cannot fly in to attack the creature.
Aura’s attention is locked on Rejack, as is that of the tan brute lying sprawled behind her. Staying low, Kilita hovers as she studies the creature. It appears injured; its left wing twists at a strange angle beside it.
Kilita flies rapidly until an eroded, wind-sculpted peak stands between her and the canyon entrance.
She private Mindspeaks to the bronze, “Rejack, I am going to see if there is an entrance behind him. Do not attack, as Aura is already injured and she will engage thee in battle and be hurt more.”
“She is weak. I will flee from her advances. I would never harm a dragon intentionally.”
“I know.” Kilita scowls as she follows the path of the deep chasm winding up the mountain. It is crowded with stunted trees and underbrush for most of its length. “That ravine gets narrower as it rises. I do not think I will be able to land.”
“Perhaps I can lure her away from the entrance; I do not think she is aware thou is here.”
“She will still see me if I enter from that side and if she turns on me in that narrow area… Well, it could be bad.” She bends in a slow arc, her eyes trailing along the slanting slash in the mountain to where she can see Rejack feinting attacks at the mouth of the gulch. “Keep well back from Aura; I shall try to drive him out.”
She draws in a deep breath and ignites her battle flames. She lines up to fly down the twisting path of the ravine. Her flames hit the trees and they begin to burn. Swooping in close to the rim, she swings her head to set fire to as much of the area as possible. The searing flames blast the trees, turning them and the underbrush into a raging inferno.
She can see the bronze, his scales aglow in the setting sun, dart in to tantalize Aura into pursuit as she nears the Volastoque. Taking another deep inhale, she blasts the creature with her battle fires.
The beast emits a keening wail as he thrashes under the assault. Shutting off her flame, she reaches for altitude, her wings powering her into a steep climb. Smoke billows up behind her and she cants to the right to break clear of the black cloud.
Where is Aura?
Kilita pulls into a tight downward spiral. She searches frantically for the mahogany and bronze dragons. In the glare of the setting sun she sees them. Rejack’s frenzied efforts to evade the mahogany have led them quite a distance away. She watches as his erratic flight pattern manages to keep him ahead of Aura. Even at this distance she can see Aura’s grim determination to engage in battle.
Folding her wings, Kilita plummets to the entrance of the gully. She back-wings at the last moment and lands. Her talons scratch across the stony ground as she rushes into the billowing smoke.
Squinting, she searches for the beast. A harsh cry pulls her forward. A flicker of movement is her only warning as a barb hurls at her through the billowing smoke. She ducks, flattening against the stony slope of the ravin
e. The barb whistles past, missing her by a mere handspan.
She rises and turns toward the direction from which it came. She stretches her senses, trying to locate the beast, and avoid further barbs. The heat from the fire beats at her, making each step forward a battle of will against the high temperature’s assault.
The glow of the creature’s golden eyes emerges from the swirling clouds of smoke and she side-steps just in time to avoid a second barb. Her battle flames precede her as she claws her way onward.
The tan plates of the Volastoque gleam in the firelight as her flames scorch across his back and dual wings. The beast screeches and scrambles on three legs, the fourth twisted at an odd angle, as he lurches through the flames to meet her attack. Its enormous, serrated-teeth-filled mouth slashes for her throat.
Dodging sideways, she continues her fiery assault. Her blaze blasts the beast full in the mouth and its forked tongue shrivels under the flames. It lurches forward, clamping its jaws at the base of her neck. Pain radiates from its bite as its head slings from side-to-side and serrated teeth saw through her scales.
She reels in pain as her talons grasp the massive head. She extends her claws to pierce through its nasal orifice and struggles to pry the jaws open. The muscles in her shoulders and chest ache as she exerts all her strength. The jaw remains locked on her neck. Kilita swings her long neck down, twisting her head to grasp the thinly protected under-jaw in her teeth, and yanks. Blood flings from the crescent-shaped wound as the creature’s jaws break free.
Her hind legs jerk from the ground as she pulls the beast close with her fore-talons. Kilita presses her thorax against his, locking the upper body against her. The Volastoque’s head flails and its front claws scramble uselessly at her side as her hind talons rip along his lower body. The coppery scent of blood fills her nostrils as the beast’s entrails tumble from the wounds.
Clenching double clawfuls of the hot, slimy ropes hanging from the wounds, she heaves. Putrid offal spurts from the intestines as she rips them from the creature’s body cavity. Wings laboring, she releases her hold on the Volastoque’s jaw and struggles skyward. Vast loops of intestines cascade below her as she labors to achieve altitude.
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