Dragon's Revenge

by Debi Ennis Binder

  Gaulte turned back to Wolfe, who sat near the fire, unabashedly devouring strips of stag-elk someone had grilled for him. A bowl of roasted vegetables was there as well; those he would leave for Mayra, to be warmed later in the fire’s ashes. Meanwhile, as Wolfe chewed, he wondered why it was taking Gaulte so long to answer his question.

  “It is an old legend among the dragons,” Gaulte finally began abruptly. He stopped by the bed and extended the tip of one talon to touch Mayra’s head with a tenderness that surprised Wolfe. Gaulte then moved closer to the wall behind Wolfe, perhaps realizing that a dragon in the bedchamber left very little extra room. “That last keening is something we don’t truly understand—but we know that it means the dragon will die, that it is looking for its lost soulmate—a sort of guide who will come and take it to our afterlife.”

  “Does that mean Tamsin’s lost soulmate is Mayra?” Wolfe asked, idly deceptive as he opened the water flask.

  “I-I do not know, my friend. We heard the keening, but I could feel something else within her that Mayra also heard and felt. It was more than keening. Mayra spoke to her—sang to her, in ancient words we know and feel, but do not understand. Patar said it was Mayra’s Rings that joined her to Tamsin; perhaps they are meant to be together. Patar was truly astonished and moved. He is deeply regretful for not listening to Mayra earlier.”

  Gaulte sounded saddened, and Wolfe abruptly understood—the connection that Gaulte had with Mayra was deeply important to the dragon, and Gaulte wondered if it might have been lost because he had failed to trust her. Wolfe knew how deep the kinship Mayra felt with Gaulte was. Had what happened with Tamsin been deeper, more heartfelt to Mayra?

  “I watched Mayra and Tamsin together,” Wolfe said. “I could feel the depth of emotions and senses that blended, even melded between them.” He paused to take another drink. “Gaulte, how did Mayra help Tamsin, if their souls aren’t connected?”

  The firelight flickered in Gaulte’s starburst eyes as the dragon stared at the flames for a long moment before he turned to Wolfe. “The souls of dragons are vastly different from humans, Wolfe. And yet, they share enough sameness to enable them to unite and strengthen each other. In my eyes, they are connected now and forever after. In the eyes of Hesta, they are as one.”

  Wolfe considered this, wondering where that left Gaulte in Mayra’s life. He then asked, “If Tamsin had died, might Mayra also have died, so they could go together to the afterlife?”

  Gaulte’s massive head drooped. “By the gods, such questions you ask!”

  But Wolfe could tell the question had disturbed the mighty black dragon. Gaulte’s voice dropped to a near-whisper as he said, “I believe she might have, Wolfe.”

  “But she didn’t,” Wolfe added gently. “They both came back and I feel they will be stronger for the experience.”

  Their eyes met and Gaulte slowly nodded. “I believe you, friend Wolfe. I must believe you.”

  The two males talked for a while longer about Hagan before Gaulte noted with a smirk that if Wolfe fell asleep, he would likely tumble into the fireplace.

  Gaulte then started to leave; as he turned toward the door, he paused. “I am also truly sorry that I did not listen to Mayra. At the time when she needed it—when my youngling needed it—I did not have faith that a human could help a dragon. I cannot swear that I will never feel that way again, friend Wolfe, and if Mayra has found her soulmate in my child and that bond between us is severed, I will sorely miss Mayra’s presence. But it is my fault for not realizing how brave and strong the witchling is.”

  With that, the black dragon withdrew.

  Wolfe lay down beside Mayra, gathered her into his arms, and gradually relaxed against her. She stirred as he kissed her forehead, but didn’t awaken.

  The soothing pera-blossom Shaura had slipped into Mayra’s water had kept her sleeping throughout Gaulte’s visit, and Wolfe hoped she would awaken with nothing more than a headache from her wound.

  It was almost midnight outside. Wolfe closed his eyes. The Aerie was at last quiet. Sometimes he thought he could hear the roars of Hagan, coming from deep at the back of the Aerie. He thought about what Gaulte had told him. Tamsin would sleep between her mother and sire, and she would heal, but until Gaulte knew the location of that profoundly magical missing eye, Hagan would remain alive. Wolfe suspected the wily, evil dragon had planned it that way.

  Cherra and Feshr, imprisoned and guarded by the witches, were as silent as was their master. Wolfe assumed they feared Hagan far too much to give away any of his secrets; would, in fact, die first.

  Diaya, Talft’s mate, nursed a severely broken wing, but it would heal, and she would fly again. Jannia had not been so fortunate. She was despondent over her shattered arm, Gaulte had reported, so much that Theura—who had never flown again after her wing was damaged by Hagan—had spent a long while talking to Jannia, about life going on, and that Jannia had much to offer others, especially young Harald.

  As Wolfe drifted off to sleep, he wondered, not for the first time, if staying amid the dragons was a wise strategy for the humans. If Mayra and Tamsin had bonded, could they be separated? Or was the presence of Mayra essential to Tamsin’s healing?

  And where was that missing talisman, a wellspring of magic with no designation, no propensity for good or evil other than that of the possessor—Tamsin’s eye.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Ceshon Aerie

  Day fourteen of the First Moon of Wynter

  Mayra dropped into a chair in the witches’ common room and gazed at the food with a long sigh. She relished having a private room with Wolfe, one that included the strangest, most wonderful bathtub in its own room. Cut from a slab of stone, the tub filled with hot water from beneath the Aerie, and cold water from the outside snow. That luxury alone made her more reluctant to leave the room than ever. She and Wolfe made love in that huge tub, filled with steaming water, more than either ever cleaned themselves in it. She smiled then. It was time to give up the daydreams and start her day. She had tasks to accomplish.

  Harald, Richart, and Berent, followed by young Gabrel, had just entered with three enormous platters. One held a huge slab of sizzling meat that made Mayra’s stomach churn unpleasantly. The others held stacks of baked goods, fruits, and vegetables.

  “We cooked them ourselves!” Gabrel announced. He puffed his chest out. “We did it, Mayra! Jannia, Lenya, Harald, and me!”

  Mayra smiled into her mug of fruit juice. She would have loved to see Gabrel helping the witches cook.

  “You did a most excellent job!” Mayra rose and helped herself to some bread, raw fruit, and more juice. The juice was delicious even though she had no idea what fruit it came from.

  Gabrel sat down close to Mayra and watched the witches attack the food. He shook his small head wisely.

  “I don’t understand why you set the meat afire,” he whispered, though he was loud enough for all the others to hear. “Is it not better if it is warm from the—”

  “Gabrel,” Richart interrupted gently, “have you not noticed that Mayra and Kirik do not eat meat?”

  Gabrel turned his beautiful starburst eyes, rounded with amazement, on Mayra. He then turned and gave Kirik an equally astonished stare.

  “But how do you live?” the young dragon demanded.

  “We do eat fish now,” Mayra replied. “And our vegetables are healthy for us.”

  “Oh.” Gabrel, as he was wont, had new knowledge, and he was happy again. He trotted off to the door, then turned back to Mayra. “Do you want some fish now?”

  “No thank you, sweet little one,” Mayra said over a laugh. “This is enough, and I’m happy with it.”

  Gabrel closed the door behind him. Several of the witches laughed and returned to their food. Mayra shook her head. She loved talking to the young dragons; after Tamsin, Gabrel was her favorite. He was so much like his sire Gaulte—insatiably curious about humans, but more often learning about them through a verbal blunder.
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  She finished her food, wondering how her absent friends were faring. Fyrid, Fleura, and Payk had flown out just after dawn that morning with Kantar, to return the Elder to Sorst. Kantar had had very little to say about his riding Gaulte to their rescue, but he thanked Mayra and Wolfe for sending some industrious gnomes to Heyr, and very quickly changing that man’s life.

  Those gnomes had inadvertently, through their merry chatter as they worked, provided Kantar with some clues that finally caused him to contact Theura. How, he didn’t say, but within hours, Gaulte had arrived at the village and swept Kantar away.

  And now, the Elder was ready to go home. The three were riding Jerek, with Kantar on Hira, Jerek’s mate.

  Those two dragons, who had not yet hatched any nestlings, had agreed to remain behind with Gaulte and guard the Aerie while the others had gone to save Tamsin. Therefore, they demanded their right to an adventure. Gaulte had rumbled with laughter at the young couple, warned them that exploits with witches were often more dangerous than they started out to be, but he agreed.

  Mayra wished Kantar had stayed longer, if only to continue long conversations with Theura and Gaulte, basking in their thanks for all the Elder had done for them while he was still a child. And the time Kantar spent with Fyrid, Payk, and Berent, explaining the differences between the magic of the witches, and that of the dragon magic they were absorbing, had been wholly inadequate. There were so many questions the three Phailites had, but finally, Kantar had raised his hands and shook his head.

  “I was born with magic in my blood,” he said. “Therefore, what I have taken from the dragons is not the same as what you are feeling. Theura has agreed to assess you, to discover what potential you have and if there is a path to magic within you.” He had laughed at his grandson’s excitement. “I look forward to seeing you again, perhaps in Autymn, to see what you have learned.”

  Kantar had not spoken of the magic that surely coursed through Fyrid’s blood and Mayra did not question the omission in the Elder’s tale.

  Later that morning, as Kantar was bidding farewell to the humans, he had climbed up on Hira, and looked down over them. “I believe I will have little trouble finding villagers who will return to the Aerie. In return for helping witches and dragons, they might learn magic, among many things.”

  Mayra had felt a twinge as Fleura turned for one last wave. Mayra would miss her friend, but now she had a task she had been looking forward to—

  Wolfe sat down beside Mayra and took her hand. “Are you ready?” he asked.

  Mayra’s smile vanished. “I am more than ready. Does dear Cherra know I am visiting her?”

  “No, she and that unbalanced gnome haven’t spoken more than a few words since we put them in the nursery.”

  The small nursery chamber—where anyone outside the room could hear whatever was being said from within—became Feshr’s and Cherra’s new prison when Wolfe got them as far away from Hagan as possible, in hopes they would become more cooperative.

  “I didn’t expect Cherra to remain silent,” Mayra murmured. “I believe that if she thinks she can get away from Hagan, perhaps return to Nesht, then she will go.” Mayra gave a slight shrug. “The only problem is how she can help us, for Feshr is another story altogether. We should have separated them. He will tell Hagan if we’re trying to help her.”

  “I had an idea about that,” Wolfe said. “Feshr probably doesn’t fear Hagan, they’ve known each other since both were very young. But I would bet that malicious little gnome fears King Jenus.”

  “The gnome king?” Mayra said in surprise. “That’s an idea. What did you have in mind?”

  “I’ll tell you on the way to the nursery,” Wolfe replied.

  “I said before that I didn’t think moving them would help anything,” Mayra said as she rose. “Hagan is where no one can reach him, where none of us can stop him: He is in their heads.”

  Wolfe gave a slight shrug. “I’ve talked to them, and you might be correct, my sweet. They both seemed to think I was a madman for believing they would betray Hagan.”

  “Remember when you invited Cherra to join us?” Mayra slipped her arm around Wolfe’s. “You told her to come fight with us, to find friendship and loyalty with us. She can’t, if being a part of Hagan is all she knows. I truly believe that she long ago accepted all that her brother and Hagan told her as the truth. I don’t think we can overcome that.”

  “Then she is useless to us.”

  Mayra paused at the door with a sly smile. “Oh no, Wolfe! You’ve forgotten, she might carry Tolle’s child. I will tell her I’ve been in contact with Leisher and the king, and they are very eager to bring her to Nesht. For the sake of the child.”

  As they closed the door behind them, Aesta, Gabrel’s sibling, ran up to them. She inclined her head and sat back. “Tamsin is so much better, Mayra. And Papa wishes to see you before you go to talk to the wicked woman. He is in his chambers.”

  Mayra hesitated. She’d had no communication with Gaulte since their return to the Aerie. She had healed Tamsin two days prior, and had seen little of the dragons since then, except for Aesta, Gabrel, and Mieran, Larek’s five-yearling. The younger dragons were spending more and more time with the witches while their parents seemed to have gone into hiding.

  Gaulte wanted to see her; Mayra wondered if he was finally ready to put all this behind them. Or if he was preparing to tell the humans, they were no longer welcome in the Aerie.

  * * *

  Gaulte’s chambers were empty. Mayra wandered across the room, pausing occasionally to pick up one of the myriad priceless jewels that Hesta kept scattered about. They were, Gaulte had said, her “pretties.”

  As soon as Gaulte entered the room, Mayra felt his presence, but she refused to turn around and look at the black dragon.

  His mind-speak sounded sad. Has it come to this? Where I must beseech you to speak to me?

  Mayra stirred, then whirled on him. “You locked me in that room!” Her accusation was cold and stony. “Where I couldn’t help you, couldn’t share your pain. You never even gave me a chance to explain that I could help Tamsin! Somehow, she was showing me the way to heal her!” She paused. “You said you would eat me.”

  “I had to lock you away,” he returned slowly. “Hagan maimed Tamsin and stole her eye.” His voice broke. “I had to protect you from the rage and grief of my mate. Do you not know that one of my kind might have harmed—even killed—any of you in their anguish and fury?”

  Mayra’s shoulders slumped. “Will you not even admit that you didn’t believe me, Gaulte?” she asked, her voice quaking with unshed tears. She waved a dismissive hand. “Do you think I was afraid?”

  The Ring-Witch looked up at the black dragon as what he had said about Hesta dawned on her. A sharp ache sliced through her, and she found it difficult to breathe for a moment. Finally, she found her voice.

  “The times you said Hesta would not understand or consent—” Mayra broke off and swallowed. “Oh, Gaulte, if Hesta cannot bless this bond you and I have, then it shall not be so.” Tears dropped onto her cheeks. “I never expected to be more than a small part of you, Gaulte, only that which you were able to set aside for me.” She gave a long sigh. “I love Wolfe, as my mate, and Fleura as the sister I never had. And I love you as friend and mentor, for somehow I allowed you to replace Leisher. We are warriors together as one, soaring as one—dragon and rider. But—”

  Mayra’s words faltered, and she broke off again. She didn’t know that Hesta had crept into the chamber, out of sight, but suddenly the red dragon was pushing her way past Gaulte, nearly throwing him aside. Hesta wrapped her massive arms around the witch and lifted Mayra up beneath her chin.

  Poor little one. Hesta’s mind-speak was a croon, filled with love. When Mayra burst into tears, the dragon didn’t seem at all surprised. Stupid males cannot conceive of love on a level that is not physical, can they?

  Several minutes passed as the female dragon and the female witch stood to
gether in the middle of the room. Mayra could feel something calming within her as she and the dragon joined as one. It filled Mayra with the sweet, warm strength of another female’s maternal love. The Ring-Witch knew they were bonding in a way no male would ever understand. She sniffed and turned her head toward Gaulte; as if to prove Mayra’s thought about males in general, the black dragon stood frozen in place, gawking at them.

  But then, an odd feeling went through Mayra—alarm filled Gaulte. She could sense the dragon’s emotions as he recalled Mayra, despairing and lost as she tried to reach Tamsin. His disjointed thoughts came crashing together into a terrible awareness—Mayra could have broken their bond and cast him from her life. But she hadn’t and Gaulte was now realizing that he would have to share his bond with Mayra. Mayra gave him a watery smile. She had a family now. A mother and a father and siblings—and they were dragons.

  She saw Wolfe walking up behind Gaulte, who jumped when Wolfe touched his shoulder.

  Gaulte looked down at the other male and gave him a slight shrug of massive shoulders. And Mayra sighed happily against the soft chest skin of Hesta, at the place where Hesta’s egg pouch sat, and where she nurtured her young. Mayra almost felt as though she belonged there.

  * * *

  Wolfe’s black eyebrows drew together as he gazed at the two females for a long moment, then looked up at Gaulte, who acknowledged Wolfe, then returned to staring at Mayra and Hesta.

  “What did you say to them?” Wolfe asked. He couldn’t decide if the odd sight of a dragon hugging his woman should alarm him or relieve him.

  Gaulte shook his head. “I truly said nothing,” he replied in a low, worried voice. “I wanted Mayra to see Tamsin. But then Patar came and wished to examine Tamsin, and he seems—I almost think the Librarian fears Mayra!”