Dragon Nemesis

by B.J. Whittington

  Maru follows the Healer’s gaze and considers Montello in this new light. The lad appears anxious to please. He shows himself brave, yet cautious, in his dealings with Falcop. And furthermore, he himself had seen the loss in the young man’s eyes. Montello too has suffered, even as Maru’s son has. “Yes, I can see what thou means; they could be good for each other.”

  “Speak with him, and I will find out who is in charge of these young men to see if it can be arranged for him to spend time with Falcop.” Geramn nods at the young man as he returns with the laden cart and walks off.

  Maru thanks Montello for the additional deer then relays his and the Healer’s thoughts. He watches as incredibleness, and then interest, passes over the boy’s features. Yes, this may work out very well. For the first time since he found Aura under attack, Maru has hope in his heart.

  Chapter 16

  Trella eases her way to the bank of the warm Healing lake, mindful that she not use her injured wing any more than necessary as she swims. Pearlitta stands awaiting her on the shore. The child wears a new tunic and her brown hair gleams from washing.

  “He should be here soon,” Pearlitta calls as Trella nears her. “They said he is working with a dragon named Estrola and her covey will be back before midday meal.”

  Trella watches with amusement as the usually stoic child jumps up and down in excitement. “Thou is excited to see him.”

  Pearlitta nods, her eyes sparkling. “It has been almost two winters since he left.” She strokes her simple blue skirt and then reaches to smooth her hair. “Do I look alright?”

  “Thou looks lovely.”

  “Lady Blessings, Nora Trella.”

  Trella looks over to see the Healer who has worked on her wing approach. “And to thee, Healer Geramn. May I introduce Pearlitta. Pearlitta, this is the Healer who has repaired my wing.”

  Pearlitta tugs on her forelock and smiles at the Healer. “Good day to you, Healer Geramn.”

  Geramn smiles at the child. “I was going to check your wing, Trella, but since you have company I can return later.”

  “I would not want to inconvenience thee, Healer Geramn.”

  “You can do it now. I am waiting for my sire; he should be here before midday meal.”

  Healer Geramn nods and gestures beside him on the shore. “Very well. Trella, if you can place your wing here, I should not be but a moment in checking.”

  Trella moves broadside to the shore and carefully lifts her wing to where he indicates. The wing does not hurt any more; it is stiff and unwieldy but free of pain. The Healer lays both hands upon her wing and his eyes take on the glazed look she has come to associate with him using his power.

  “Ahh,” Pearlitta exclaims softly, her eyes riveted to the soft amber glow emanating from the Healer’s hands. “Does that happen every time?” she asks, her eyes wide with wonder.

  Trella chuckles. “Yes.”

  A short distance away, a huge midnight-blue dragon and a tall, bearded Shaman appear in the cavern. The man glances around, then his gaze locks on them.

  “Pearlitta!” the deep voice of the Shaman calls.

  Pearlitta’s eyes jerk to the man. “Sire!” The child practically flies across the cavern to leap into her sire’s arms.

  The man holds her tightly, his eyes welling with tears as he says her name over and over. Trella can feel her heart swelling with joy.

  Geramn withdraws from his trance. “I have done all I can; your wing will simply take time to finish healing on its own.”

  “My thanks, Healer.”

  “Trella! He is here!” Pearlitta drags her sire across the stone floor to beside the lake. Her face writhes in a smile as they reach Trella. “Sire, this is my friend, Trella.”

  Belnarth places a hand on Trella’s neck. “I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you aided my daughter.”

  “It was my honor to do so, Shaman Belnarth.”

  “She brought me here to live with you.” Pearlitta jumps up and down, pumping her sire’s hand.

  “I am afraid that is not possible, little one.” Belnarth kneels to be face to face with his daughter. “I do not live here, I travel with Estrola.”

  The midnight-blue dragon joins them, her head lowering to gaze at the child. “Thy sire is my bonding mate.”

  Pearlitta glares at the large dragon. “I remember you. You are the reason he was not able to stay with me and my dama.”

  “Pearlitta, you do not understand, it is not that way at all.” Belnarth attempts to pull the child into an embrace.

  Pearlitta jerks away, moving closer to Trella. “Of course it is. I heard you and dama arguing many times about the fact you could not take her to mate, because of your pledge to that Lady-be-damned dragon.”

  “That is enough, young lady; you will speak with respect.” Belnarth stands and glowers at his daughter.

  “She showed no respect to me or dama, taking you away.” Pearlitta, both hands fisted and on her hips, glares up at the man.

  “Enough, Pearlitta!”

  “Belnarth, it is fine, thy youngling does not understand.” The Mindspeak comes from Estrola, her large, green eyes whirl in a slow dance with golden specks from the light of the cavern’s orbs.

  Belnarth gives an apologetic smile to Healer Geramn and Trella. “My apologies, my daughter can be quite outspoken.” He reaches for Pearlitta’s hand, but she tucks both hands behind her back and scoots closer to Trella. “Come along, Pearlitta. We shall find the family I left you with. I shall make arrangements for your care here. We should be able to visit more often with you at Kitloch.”

  “I am afraid, Shaman Belnarth, the convoy is still en-route, and they are not headed to this cavern.” Trella lays her head beside Pearlitta. “I insisted they transport Pearlitta with me, as I promised her to bring her to her sire. I have grown fond of the child as well.”

  Pearlitta beams up at Trella as her sire scratches his head. “Well, then. I am not sure how, but we will make arrangements for you here; perhaps I can find another family that will care for you.”

  Pearlitta shakes her head. “Not likely, that last family was unhappy with taking in a bastard.”

  Shaman Belnarth ducks his head; a faint rush of red colors his cheeks. “Perhaps a dormitory then.”

  “She is a bit young to be placed in the youth dormitories,” Healer Geramn comments, his gaze thoughtful.

  “I am thirteen winters old,” Pearlitta insists. “Not a child.”

  “No, you are not.” Belnarth glances at Estrola then scratches his head, his eyes thoughtful. “Yet you are too young to remain alone while we are away.”

  Geramn grins. “I may have a solution.” He leans down to be at eye level with the girl. “My mate would welcome you. We have a large apartment, and my two boys are close to your age.”

  Pearlitta stares at him, her gaze appraising.

  “Are you sure your mate would approve?” Shaman Belnarth looks back and forth between his daughter and the Healer, his expression a bit confused.

  Geramn holds his hand out to the child. “Come along, Pearlitta. You and your sire can come and talk to Sheina. We shall see what we can work out.”

  Pearlitta glances up at Trella, and at her nod, takes the proffered hand. The three of them make their way to an exit.

  Trella looks back at the blue dragon. “She is a special little girl.”

  “Yes. Belnarth is very proud of her, as he should be.” Estrola glances at Trella’s wing. “Tell me about yourself, Trella. Is thou mated?”

  ~!~

  Jadrun pulls his tunic off and slumps upon his sleeping platform. His body aches from too little sleep and his mind reels with the briefing he just left. Shaman Hern led the Council’s meeting with admirable calm. He kept to the facts and outlined suggestions already brought forth. Still, it did not lessen the impact of the news imparted.

  They are losing.

  On every front, and at every battle, the Palmir People and their ally dragons sustain significantly
higher losses than the creatures.

  He drops the tunic to the floor and absently scratches old scars angling across his chest. His hand brushes the green crystal suspended on a chain around his neck and he grasps it, holding it out to catch the light. The source of his transportation power, the crystal is nearly the length and thickness of his pinky finger. He twists it, admiring the way the light skips along its faceted sides.

  Ironic that such a small thing changed his life so much.

  He had only just passed his fifteenth winter when the Society came to his town. They were, at that time, unknown to the Palmir People. A Society of Shaman who pledged their lives and work to the protection and betterment of the Palmir People. At fifteen winters he was considered an adult, and free to make his own choice if he wished to join them.

  It was Shaman Hern who approached him, a much younger and vibrant man than the one he just left at the latest of many meetings. Jadrun chuckles; he isn’t so young any more himself. Twenty-five winters have passed since he left his home and traveled with Hern to the secret location where the Shaman initiated recruits into the skills of the crystal magic. The last five of those years he spent, with the other Shaman, using his powers to help battle the Volastoque.

  He is tired, depressed from the fruitless search for Blanche, and yearns to recapture the simpler life swept away by the Volastoque incursions. His youngest son, Montello, is the only child remaining yet alive from his union with his lost mate, Blanche. Montello’s and Herlan’s instruction as a Shaman had only started a moon before when they were interrupted by the attacks on their village. Jadrun wishes he had brought his family here a few moons ago, when Shaman Hern assigned Jadrun to this location as his home base. Perhaps then Herlan would yet be alive, and Blanche at his side… instead of missing, taken as minion to those beasts, or dead herself. No. He forces himself not to consider that. He must remain positive, if only for Montello’s sake.

  Their apartment was empty when he arrived home after the meeting, Montello already out on his assigned chores for the day. Jadrun yawns, trying to decide if he has the energy to find his son or if he should seek him out after getting some rest. The leaden feel of his movements, and the fact he can barely keep his eyes open, decides him.

  Jadrun eases off his footwear and lowers himself onto his sleeping platform. He must leave again to search for Blanche. However, it will not be safe for him to transport again until he allows his body to recharge. The crystal pulls upon the energy of the user to perform. If he is not strong enough… Jadrun has no intention of joining those unfortunate disappearing Shaman who never arrived anywhere. His mind wrestles with his duty to the Palmir People and his need to find his wife. Jadrun knows the search for survivors continues. Yet, it is not the same; he must go and search himself as often as he can. Punching the pillow and stuffing it under his head, he turns his thoughts to Kilita as he drifts toward sleep, sending a quick prayer to the Lady that the green dragon will remain safe, and return successful.

  ~!~

  Aura raises her head and eases to her feet. The day is dawning as the sun begins to break above the horizon. Aura gazes to the northwest. She can no longer see smoke from the fire, but they did not make it too far before darkness and mutual exhaustion caused her and the green to land for the night.

  She shuffles to the stream, trying to move quietly so as not to awaken Kilita. Her neighbor is exhausted and weakened from her injuries.

  She drinks until her thirst slackens and watches as the day begins.

  “How is thou this sunrise?”

  Aura turns to find Kilita awake. “Free; the rest will mend.”

  “When did thou last feed?” Kilita stands and lifts her wings slowly, shakes the morning dew from them, stretches each to its fullest reach, and then allows them to fold once more on her sides.

  “It has been a while. But I can wait until we reach my son.” Aura limps away from the stream to allow Kilita access. “Unless, thou needs to feed?”

  “No, I can wait another day. We should meet up with Rejack before midday, he should return with a Shaman before then.” Kilita lowers her neck to drink from the stream, flinching as the scab over the wound at the base of her neck cracks open and resumes seeping blood. “I would rather get started. We have not put enough distance between us and that dead Volastoque for my mind to feel at rest.”

  Aura stretches her wings, peering at the patches of damage from Killer Frost. She uses her front teeth to scrape away a few dead scales, exposing skin still gray with damage. She twitches her wings and beads of morning dew cascade down their length. “Let us start then, for our mates will worry.”

  Kilita seems to deflate for a moment, her body sagging beside the stream. “Timac fell in the defense of Taloxville.” Her Mindspeak is soft and laden with grief.

  Aura freezes, her heart aching as she shares their mutual anguish. She moves close to the green, draping one wing across Kilita’s back. “I am so sorry.”

  “He died with honor, protecting the people of Taloxville.” Kilita raises her head and gazes into Aura’s eyes. “We have lost many to these battles.”

  “Too many.” Aura rubs her neck and face alongside the green’s in comfort. A whiff, slight and almost unnoticeable, of pheromones, reaches her. “Thou is gravid with his clutch?”

  Kilita’s eyes widen in surprise. “I did not think it was apparent yet.”

  Aura hugs the younger dragon to her. “Only when I am this close.”

  “I fear they come into a world where their future is doomed.” Tears trace a jagged path down Kilita’s face scales as she trembles in Aura’s embrace.

  “We will do whatever it takes to not make it so.” Aura gives her a final squeeze, then releases the green dragon. She steps back and glances at the sun, now clear of the horizon. “Come, let us leave.”

  Kilita nods, wiping a wing across her face to brush away her tears.

  ~!~

  Elish hustles through the man-made corridors that attach the large natural cavern chambers. He soon reaches a corridor where the floor rises in a steady incline. The stark white of the glowing orbs in the corridor cause the walls to shimmer as he paces swiftly along. Once again, traffic is sparse and he passes only a few men entering the caverns. The air cools and takes on a crisper taste as he nears the main exit.

  The double-doors are cool to his touch. He holds one open for a man entering with his arms loaded and then steps out into the brisk night air. Elish steps across the cobblestone courtyard to the edge of the flattened area. His hands clasp the banister and his eyes travel down the steep slope to the valley where a scattering of domes and cabins nestles. Both moons are full and the basin almost glows in their light.

  The lowing of a cow and faint barking of a distant dog are the only sounds. He relaxes, lifting his gaze to the star-studded skies. Three dragons, on patrol, flit across the deep velvet of the night. He watches as one, a silver, arcs across the lower hills on the other side of the valley. Beautiful, the dragon is so graceful in flight.

  Two dragons pop into existence directly in front of him. Heart pounding in his ears, the air leaves his lungs in a whoosh as he grasps the railing to stay upright. Harsh tones of a greeting bugle wash over Elish as the emerald dragon announces them to the sentry dragons. The Shaman dangling in the emerald’s claws gestures to the platform behind Elish and the dragon lands, walking on her hind legs a short distance before placing the Shaman she carries in her front talons upon the ground. The mahogany hovers for a moment, then flies directly over Elish to land behind him.

  Elish whirls around. The two dragons practically fill the large courtyard. Both show injuries, and blood wells from a wound on the emerald dragon. He watches as the two Shaman remove harnesses and detach themselves from the dragons’ front legs.

  The Shaman with the emerald dragon speaks, “Remain here a moment, I shall check to ensure a large enough area is clear.” He disappears.

  Elish takes several deep breaths and begins to calm. The spicy scent
of dragon fills his senses; he is so close to the immense creatures.

  The second Shaman pulls a leather cap from her head, her brown hair falling in a tumble around her shoulders as it is freed. She glances across the courtyard and nods a greeting. Elish’s hand trembles as he reaches to tug on his forelock. He clears his throat and tries to speak past the dryness in his mouth. Before he can think of what to say, the other Shaman pops back onto the courtyard.

  “The area in front of the feeding station is clear,” the Shaman says, moving to stand beside the emerald dragon. He reaches up to place his hand upon her leg. “I will take Kilita first; give us a moment then follow with Aura.” The dragon and the Shaman disappear.

  “Do we go where my mate and hatchling are?”

  Elish’s eyes fly wide as the dragon’s Mindspeak rings in his head.

  The brown-headed Shaman nods. “Yes, the Healing cavern. The Healers there can attend to both your injuries as you are reunited with your family.”

  Elish can feel relief emanating from the mahogany. Her form slumps and he cannot help but notice how thin and battered she is. A sound like the rustling of dry leaves drifts across to him as she resettles her wings. The membranes between her wing phalanges are ragged, her scales peel from her body in places, and even from this distance he can see her ribs prominently exposed on her sides. His gaze is drawn to the patches on her folded wings, pale-pink against the darker mahogany of the wing, and he wonders what caused such damage.

  The mahogany dragon’s golden eyes turn to him and he holds his breath. The brown-headed Shaman lays her hand on the dragon’s leg and they disappear. Elish releases the breath and sags against the banister. The courtyard seems immense without the two dragons. He turns to gaze, once more, down into the valley.

  Chapter 17

  “My mate.” Maru ignores Geramn where the Healer stands beside the lake, gesturing for him to remain in the water. He hauls himself out and with great effort strides to where Aura materialized. His heart aches as her condition becomes evident the closer he draws.