“Are all your weapons made so heavy?” Wolfe asked Fyrid. “And do you know where they came from?”
Fyrid gave a self-conscious shrug, then replied. “I never thought of them as heavy.” He gave the other man a shy grin. “In truth, Wolfe, I could wield any tool made from a metal such as yours longer, for they are lighter and far sharper. I don’t know where these weapons came from; my father got them at my birth and hid them away.”
Wolfe glanced at Payk, who shook his head. “Obtaining weapons is left to a few in the Clan; they alone know whence they come. Those were delivered to Heyr a month after Fyrid’s birth.”
Wolfe nodded. Despite what Kirik said, Wolfe felt magic not only in the way the firestick worked but in its very construction. The Ring-Witch had never felt such force before and wanted to know who had the ability to create such a horrific weapon. And why.
* * *
Gaulte had been listening to the discussion about the weapons. Once the conversation died down, he stirred and cleared his throat.
“You of the Sorst Clan are best suited to help us,” the dragon mumbled. He made his rumbling noise again, then said, “You have people in your village who can tell us of those who attacked our Aerie and perhaps help us learn who made the weapons. A human, elf, or gnome must have made them; a dragon couldn’t do such fine work. But a dragon could have devised that silver tube.”
Payk and Fyrid exchanged a long glance, then the elder man nodded and said, “Gaulte, if you trust us and want our help, take us back to our village.”
Gaulte lowered his head, bringing his golden starburst eyes closer to the two blue humans. He could not believe what he had heard. They demanded his trust? Humans of the clan who had—
Gaulte, they were not there. Mayra’s patient mind-speak didn’t distract him as it had before. Perhaps, thought the great dragon, it was because he wasn’t enraged, but indignant. But Mayra was correct.
“I never intended that you would not return to your home,” he said huffily. All the humans were staring at him. He gave a last, softer snort. He had to learn to be peaceable with humans. “You were not there. I must give you the same consideration I would have, ere those humans attacked the Aerie. What you call trust.” He nodded his massive head. “Payk and Fyrid of the Sorst Clan, you are not prisoners. After we visit my Aerie, we will seek your Elders and ask if there is any help they can give us. You must see all that happened so you can tell your people. But first, we will tell you what we remember.”
Gaulte raised his head above the humans.
Hyaera! Come back up here. You alone were inside. Tell them what happened on that day. When only the witchlings reacted, Gaulte remembered the blue humans could not hear his command. He sighed and repeated himself with words.
Chapter Eight
Ceshon Pass
Day three of the First Moon of Wynter
Hyaera rose and looked around for signs that his presence would not frighten any of the humans. With his narrow head and glittering dark-green eyes atop a long neck and sleek, muscular body, he knew his red-and-black visage was far more savage than any other dragon in the Aerie; he was their weapon, their fighter, and yet, a more gentle dragon could not be found. He suspected some of the witchlings had already discovered that. Ridden from Nesht by Anadi and Joeb, a female and a male witch-warrior, Hyaera had tried to convince them he was as sleek and deadly as he appeared, but by that first evening, they had been laughing together over his stories of being a small dragon riding the back of a direwolf and scaring the Aerie Elder half to death.
A few moments passed while Hyaera shuffled other dragons and humans aside so he could make his way up alongside Gaulte. Eventually, he settled himself next to the black dragon and made himself comfortable. All the dragons of his Clan knew he liked to have an audience and speak words. He was the youngest fully-grown dragon, as yet unmated. He had once planned to stay with the Sorcery Guild Master in Nesht and be both teacher and student, living with the witchlings and reintroducing his kind to Nesht. But Hyaera had discovered, he later told his kin, that he didn’t enjoy being alone amid humans. And he had responsibilities at the Aerie he could not neglect.
At first, Hyaera was certain he wouldn’t be able to tell the tale of his capture in the presence of the two Phailites. The Sorst invaders had ruthlessly derided Hyaera for playing dead and trying to hide. Hyaera’s anger still ran deep for those slurs; he had painstakingly killed the Phailite who rode him, making certain the last thing that vile human ever saw were the glittering green eyes of a savage red-and-black dragon. But as he was growing to know these humans better, the dragon had decided he would tell the tale for its importance in understanding the men who had ravaged the Aerie.
Perhaps he might find more compassion with them than he had with others of their ilk. The absurdity of a dragon caring what humans thought of him did not occur to Hyaera until much later.
Hyaera began his tale. He did like to speak aloud, but he was still unaccustomed to it and he did so carefully. He didn’t realize that the precise measure of his words, their unemotional delivery, added to the picture of terror he was creating for the humans.
“Except for me, the Aerie males were out hunting. It was my duty to stay behind as a sentinel, and yet I was at the midden when the evil Phailites came.” He gave a small huff and looked embarrassed. “Hesta had all the nestlings with her that day, some there for instruction and some there simply to give their mothers some time alone. So, all the younger ones were in the largest common, at the front of the Aerie. As I was coming back up to the Aerie, four terrified six-yearlings stopped me.” He shook his head. “They were so frightened they couldn’t communicate. I sent them to hide, without fully knowing what had happened.
“I went into the Aerie through the back, concealing myself as I went. I could hear Hesta, fighting them off and protecting the younglings. She was so fearless, the humans were terrified of her, but then—everything went quiet. I finally reached the main common and could see the humans through the front. They had great nets. Something had stopped Hesta. She—she just stood there, her eyes staring into nothing.”
Hyaera resisted the urge to glance at Gaulte. The dragons had heard the tale before, but that didn’t make listening any easier and Hyaera could not give Gaulte the sympathy a dominant dragon did not need—at least not before others. Hyaera looked back over his riveted audience.
“I went to the front, to confront the humans,” the red-and-black dragon continued. “I smelled a strange odor that made my head reel. I don’t know what the humans used, but all of the females were docile.”
Hyaera paused a moment, as though collecting his thoughts. Every being around him was silent.
“I went back toward the nursery. I searched, and felt, trying to reach nestlings I could sense. Finally, I tracked some, who had hidden themselves in a cabinet. I could not feel who they were, only that they were so young and frightened…” His voice trailed off; he shook his head. “I sent them commands to hide. Then I caught sight of several other younglings scurrying down the corridor. I could hear the humans shouting; they knew which way the younglings had gone. I jumped after the humans and acted wounded, and the humans turned away and started after me, instead. The younglings ran into one of the old human rooms. While I was fighting the Phailites, the nestlings got away. And eventually, I slipped into one of the off-corridors and escaped them.”
Hyaera took a long breath. “As I went toward the back, I heard Hesta, so weak, she commanded I leave now and seek the males. I left.” By the sound of those bitter words, it was the hardest thing the dragon had ever done.
“And of course, I found the males, and when we returned, all of us were captured,” he finished.
* * *
“Oh, Hyaera,” Mayra breathed, “you were so brave! It must have been so hard for you to leave the younglings on their own.
Mayra’s insight didn’t surprise Gaulte. Of all that Hyaera had gone through, leaving the youngest members of the Aerie b
ehind must have been heart-rending. Although they might have been so helpful relaying what they had seen, Gaulte silently thanked the Great White Dragon the six-yearlings had seen Hyaera, and he had sent them away from the Aerie. Gaulte’s eyes closed for a moment.
And now, Gaulte wondered where those mischief-makers were. He assumed that, young as they still were, they had skipped that day’s lessons. But they were also old enough, and had enough presence of mind, to remain hidden away until they could escape. The black dragon didn’t know if the young dragons had seen any of the Aerie’s inhabitants injured by the attackers. Had there been any bloodshed?
Gaulte knew that one of those younglings had been Hyaera’s own nephew, Inshn, a fatherless dragon Hyaera was helping his sister raise. It must have been difficult not to comfort the shy young dragon, to have to push him away and send him to hide.
The black dragon gazed down at his talons— they needed tending to—trimming and sharpening, he thought absently. It was a task Hesta enjoyed performing.
How had a nameless enemy known the Clan males were away hunting? Their adversary had crafted swift and savage plans, and then carried them out with brutal precision. The concerted attack against the Aerie’s familial groups had been ruthless enough to ensure the males’ obedience.
Gaulte took a deep breath.
“We returned from hunting to find what you will see of our Aerie.” The dominant dragon’s voice was rough, his cadence weary. “Barely a moment seemed to pass before the blue humans boldly appeared in the devastated Aerie. Their leader demanded to see the Aerie alpha. Their bearing was swaggering and overconfident; those weak blue creatures laughed as they made their demands known.” His horned head drooped. “They brought dragon scales, torn from our females and even from the nestlings. To show us what harm they could and would do to them.”
Gaulte didn’t hear the horrified murmurs that went through the witchlings or see the shock that darkened the Phailites’ faces. He was speaking as though he were alone at the campsite, seeing the truth of his captured family in tiny pale-red scales and large red ones tinged with blood.
“At that moment,” he continued, “I hated as I had never thought myself capable. To save our Clan kin, being held in bondage by humans, we became enthralled chattel, forced to kill and maim—to destroy other humans for no reason we could discern.” His beautiful eyes swept over the humans and came to rest on Mayra and Wolfe. “Dragons do not kill other dragons without cause.”
You are tired, Gaulte. Mayra’s thoughts were for the black dragon alone. I know that you have accepted that Fyrid and Payk are different from those who attacked you. I also sense that such a difference makes you all the angrier at the other Phailites, because they could be as humane as these men are. She touched Gaulte’s bumpy skin. Will you tell them that, Gaulte?
Gaulte’s low laugh rumbled. I will tell them. But for now, I am resting. We will be ready to leave by tomorrow, at dawn.
Gaulte’s tone was as drained as his words. He wanted to eat until he was uncomfortable and sleep in his Aerie until he wouldn’t need sleep for several days. His sunburst eyes closed. He wanted his mate and nestlings beside him; surrounded by all the dragon families, the witchlings, even the two Phailites, so that all could enjoy the kinds of tales best told in such a close setting. The warmth of kin, humans gathered among dragons again, and a warm blaze to sit close to. But for now, there was but one thing he needed to put into the minds of the Aerie dragons.
“I told you, ere we left Nesht,” Gaulte began in quiet tones, “that someday, glorious songs would arise from the day that witchlings and dragons joined forces once again. Tales of the Ceshon Aerie uniting with brave witchlings in the heart of the battle. We defeated our common enemy without any losses of our own and those are rare circumstances, indeed.” Slowly, his eyes closed and his voice dropped even lower. “I sent pleas to the Great White Dragon that the Elder remained safe and that some younglings were able to escape.”
His eyes then opened. He seemed lighter, as though speaking those words aloud made them more likely to be heard.
* * *
Wolfe gazed down at Poppie and scratched the cat’s black ears. The cat was staring at Gaulte as though she were listening intently to what he was saying.
“We have suffered a great catastrophe,” said Fauler abruptly. “Once our Aerie is whole again, we must make changes, to ensure such a thing never again happens.”
“That is true,” Gaulte agreed. “Dragons—at least those of this Aerie—we are not given to mistrusting anyone, especially not the human-kind who established their family circles in the Ceshon Valley.”
Wolfe looked around; in the bright firelight, the shadowy heads of the surrounding dragons were nodding.
“I know what you are saying,” Larek said, a slight catch in his words. “The Phailites had little to fear from us, but we never considered that we should fear them.”
Surprisingly, it was Payk who leaned forward, clearing his throat. “Yes, all of you are right. Because of your size—your teeth and talons, you terrified me. Well that, plus I thought you would eat us.” Payk had clearly braced himself for how the dragons would receive that; when he heard the rumblings of laughter, he stole a glance at Gaulte, and hurriedly added, “But in truth, given what I learned of you from the Sorst Elder—who has only the greatest respect and esteem for dragons, you should have indeed feared my kind.”
“Uncle!” Fyrid protested. “I don’t like to be bunched together with those who left our Clan! I was younger when Plyn af’Nanyn took the others away, but even I knew that they were bad. But that early morning he returned and took our stores of food, I saw them. The Elder asked—”
The young man stopped short, his eyes returned to Mayra, and puzzlement, more than anything, crossed his features. “I remembered something about that day. I know I keep looking at you, Mayra. But it’s because I am trying to remember a woman who looked very much like you. She was with Plyn af’Nanyn when he left.”
“No such woman was with his family when they first left the village,” Payk said thoughtfully, his bushy eyebrows drawing together. “Fyrid had but eight years then.” He flashed a grin at his nephew. “Your mother whipped you soundly for following them. They were making enough noise to deafen the dead, drunken fools all. There were no women with them.”
“No, this was much later, just last year.” Fyrid sat up straighter, his voice rising with excitement. “The morning they stole our meat, I followed them out into the forest. Mother was beyond punishing me by then.” He gave the other humans a now-familiar shy grin. “She had given up on trying to keep me from wandering away from the village for one adventure or another. But earlier that afternoon, Plyn went off the path and down by the waterfall, and met up with twice as many men as had left with him. Father said men had been disappearing for several months.” He shook his head. “There were two women at two times—the first was when I was eight, as you said, Uncle. She was very much like you, Mayra, her skin, and hair coloring, the way she wore her hair, and her small size. They were arguing. And then later, when I was older, there was another. She was smaller than most of our women, very pale-blue, much lighter than us.”
Wolfe and Richart looked across the fire at each other. Each had a brother who had been approached by such a woman—a lovely lady who asked that he join her to work with the Phailites. Aristen Sieryd had disregarded her and reported the incident to elder brother Wolfe. But Tolle Bren, Richart’s eldest brother, had agreed to help her. No one had ever seen the woman, but Tolle had paid a terrible price for his betrayal, not death, but a punishment that made him wish he had died.
Wolfe had not found the unknown woman before he was caught up in the assault on Nesht. But he had quickly realized afterward that the pale-blue woman was associated with those invaders. Fyrid’s words confirmed that, but Wolfe still had no idea who she was, what her part had been in the attack, or why she had approached Aristen and Tolle in the first place. At that time, the two men hadn�
��t even known of each other.
Wolfe leaned closed to Fyrid.
“If you remember anything more, tell me or Richart,” Wolfe quietly told the younger man, and Fyrid gave him a solemn nod.
Wolfe hesitated, then decided he would tuck away for another conversation, the comment by Payk that he’d thought the dragons would eat him. By the gods, some dragon somewhere had devoured the leg of Payk’s brother, and perhaps, other Phailites during that attack. That possibility concerned Wolfe. He looked up as Gaulte stirred.
“It seems,” Gaulte said abruptly, “that our betrayal was a long and carefully plotted thing. Fyrid, do you know how many men were there with Plyn af’Nanyn that night?”
“He said more than five-and-twenty,” Payk replied for his nephew. He grinned at Fyrid. “Fyrid was very proud of his counting skills then, he had just learned grouping by twos.” The older man chuckled. “Showing us his brains then and we did not doubt him. Fyrid was always clever.”
The subject of such rare praise turned purple again as blood flooded his cheeks. Fyrid turned—Fleura handed him a wooden trencher of meat and sat down next to him.
Chirrup?
Fleura smiled and watched as the dragonlet, Smok scrambled up a rock and dropped onto Fyrid’s shoulder, his small snout wriggling as he eagerly sniffed, looking to share. Fleura smothered a laugh; Wolfe grinned at Mayra. Fyrid didn’t notice the small creature stealing his food.
His eyes were at last for Fleura alone, Wolfe noted, and it didn’t appear Fyrid noticed any other woman around him.
* * *
Payk af’Unshyr ate and then leaned back on one arm as he watched the witches. At times, they were an unusually silent group, and he thought more about his Clan Elder’s stories of the dragons “speaking” without words. Payk wondered many things about such an ability—had the witches had learned to communicate with the dragons in that manner? If so, could others do it? And how had Kantar, the Elder, known of such an ability the dragons had?
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