The New Age

by Chris D'Lacey

  At that moment, Pine reappeared. She came hurrying over the ground like a wisp, crossing the humps and hollows with ease, her white knees showing just below her robe.

  She skidded to a halt in front of Gabrial. He was ready with his tail and stopped her on the point of his isoscele.

  She raised both hands in surrender. In the left, she was holding some long-stemmed plants with drooping red flowers. In the right was a clutch of large green leaves.

  “You have a lot of explaining to do.” Gabrial’s weighty isoscele raised Pine’s chin as high as it would stretch. He dented her skin to show he meant business, while allowing her just enough freedom to speak.

  “I picked furzlewort and hoddleroot,” she said in dragontongue, though these were not Hom words Gabrial recognized. “And here be redsel, fresh—for him.” She rustled the flowers and tilted them at Gus.

  Gabrial glanced at the weedy stalks. The healing dragon, Grymric, often talked about the soothing power of plants. But even Grymric, with all his years of experience, had found no remedy for Veng poison.

  “He’s dying,” the blue growled.

  “Then I would save him,” said Pine. She lifted the thin band of hair above one eye ridge. The fang in the center of her mouth glinted.

  Gabrial rolled back his upper lip and showed her what a real fang ought to look like. “Why is Ren on Skytouch?” he growled. “You know something, don’t you? What’s he planning?”

  She gave a little gasp as he pricked her for an answer. “Why do you hurt me so? I came to you with healing. These flowers are my trust. Do harm on me and your roamer will die.”

  “Answer me,” he growled, making her bleed.

  “Whitehair seeks the truth,” she squeaked. “No more do I know. I swear to you fair on the spirits of the Fathers.” If it were possible to grit one tooth, she was doing it.

  “Truth about what?”

  “This.” She flicked her gaze sideways, inviting him to look at her arm. As she closed her eyes in concentration, her delicate skin began to glaze, until the entire length of her arm was covered in tiny dragon scales. Shining silver-green juvenile dragon skin that would have looked well on any wearling. It made Gabrial wonder just how far the auma would travel. What if she could change her whole body like this? What would happen in her heart if she did? How long before her blood ran green, like theirs? And then what would she be, Hom or dragon?

  With a rumble of annoyance, Gabrial lowered his isoscele. What choice did he have but to let her try to save Gus? “If he suffers, girl, I’ll have your head.”

  To his amazement, she stuck out her tongue. “And I might yet have yours, beast.”

  Wisely, she did not persist with her petulance and quickly knelt beside Gus instead, laying the redsel flowers at his head. She called Gariffred to her and instructed him to watch.

  Picking two leaves off the hoddleroot pile, she crumpled them into her mouth and chewed them as well as her tooth would allow, then spat the pulp into her open hand. “Now you, pupp.” She mimed the chewing and spitting for Gariffred.

  Graark, he went, to show he understood.

  With Gabrial in close attendance, she fed Gariffred the furzlewort and hoddleroot leaves. While he was mulching, she began to pluck the redsel flowers off their stalks, separating out the spiny seedpods that nestled just below the flower heads. Deftly, she cracked the pods open and spilled the tiny black seeds they bore into a pleat of her robe. When every pod was emptied, she tipped the seeds into a pile in one hand.

  By then, Gariffred was ready with the leaves. Pine shuffled closer to Gus and sprinkled the seeds into the wound at his neck. He made no complaint, prompting Gabrial to wonder how close he was to death. The amber shine had gone from Gus’s jeweled eyes. His tail was barely flicking. He had hardly breathed in the last few moments.

  The girl signaled to Gariffred and pointed. The drake adopted a vomiting stance and hawked the contents of his mouth over Gus’s neck. Gabrial looked away in disgust. He had seen Grymric applying poultices to wounds, but nothing quite as repellent as this.

  Pine leaned forward and spread the goo over the wound with her hands. She patted it into place, covering all the pus and making a seal for the seeds. She stroked Gariffred to say he’d done well, then told him to stand back.

  “You too,” she said to Gabrial.

  For once, he obeyed her and pulled the drake away.

  She moved around to the tip of Gus’s snout. Still on her knees, she clamped his head between her hands and began to sing. A lilting tune with a tender cadence; it could have charmed the wind.

  It wasn’t long before Gabrial understood why he’d been ordered back. Out of nowhere, a spasm ran through Gus’s body. His claws slid out and clutched the erth like dry roots starved of water. His tail thumped the ground, showering small stones across the headland and leaving a permanent rut in the soil. At the same time, he cried out and tossed his head, heat blowing from his froth-corrupted lungs. Pine held on bravely and sang more sweetly. The tail moved again. It swept the ground in a mighty arc, almost catching Gariffred’s toes. Gabrial drew him farther back, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. A huge convulsion had taken hold of Gus. His free wing had unfolded to half its expanse and was jabbing the air in violent spasms. His tail was still flaying the grass. Then, in one explosive burst of power, he somehow struggled to his feet. Pine was thrown clear, but got up unhurt. Gus steadied himself, snorting lather from his nostrils. He tottered sideways briefly and almost collapsed. He blinked several times, looking dazed and haunted.

  Pine slowly approached him again. She caught hold of his head and slid her hands flat along his shuddering snout until they were resting just under his ears. “Galan aug scieth,” she whispered, meaning “we are one”—not in body, but in common purpose.

  Gus nodded faintly. So too Gabrial. There on that clifftop his mind was decided. Hom and dragons must find a way to share this world and live together in peace. But it could not happen here, in this mountain domayne. Grynt would never be persuaded, not while he thirsted to spill Ren’s blood. So Gabrial called Pine over and humbly thanked her for saving Gus, then bade her look out to sea with him. “What lies beyond the water?” he asked. The horizon was far away, bare of land.

  Pine crouched down and picked a flower. “I know not,” she said, “but if you go there, you must take me with you.”

  Gabrial stared ahead, tight-lipped. Far below, on the edge of his vision, he could see the body of the Veng he’d killed. It had floated to the surface like a castaway leaf. A grim and ugly sight it was. That deed was going to haunt him all his days. But Pine need not be a part of it. “What of your tribe, the Kaal?” he asked her. “Is it not your wish to return to them?”

  She stood up like a slip of light and wedged the flower under one of his scales. “You are my tribe now, skaler.”

  And she patted his breast and turned back inland.

  As Gabrial turned to follow Pine, he heard a sharp cry from above. His gaze flashed skyward. Just as Gus had feared, a sweeper had seen them. It was flying high with the sun at its back, cutting a stitch between the clouds. It banked seaward and circled over the area, tilting its inquisitive head as it swept across the cliff line. It had the seen the bodies, scented the blood, identified the dragons on the ground—and in the water. The idiot girl was even waving to it! Gabrial felt a giddy rush in his ears, magnified by the thump of his primary heart. He had been a sweeper once. He knew the role well. If the dragon in the sky stayed true to its orders, it would save an i:mage of this scene to memory, then turn toward the mountains and report to the Elders. It would be over Mount Vargos before Gabrial could catch it. Too late by then. Maybe too late now.

  “Do you recognize it?” he said urgently to Gus. The sweeper was circling a second time, not exactly in a hurry to go. Gabrial followed its flight path around, trying to read the intent in its eye.

  “It looks like Gruder,” Gus replied, still reeling from Pine’s dramatic cure. He set himself down wi
th a weary thump. “Myverian bloodline. Not a fighter.”

  That didn’t do much for Gabrial’s fears. A nervous type was more likely to bolt.

  “Call him,” Gus said. “Call a greeting.”

  They watched Gruder disappear behind a cloud.

  “Will he respond?” asked Gabrial. “How well do you know him?”

  “I don’t. But if he flies to Grynt and reports what he’s seen, the Wearle will descend upon us in force. Then it’s either fight for our freedom—or drown.”

  Gabrial’s eye ridges stiffened, prompting Gus to say, “I heard you ask the girl what lies across the water. That may be our only hope of escape. But you can’t attempt a flight across an unmapped distance with a hole the size of my snout in your wing. A rip like that needs time to repair. One thing is certain: You’ll never lift a full wing again if you don’t get that sweeper on the ground. Call him.”

  “What do we tell him—assuming he lands?”

  Gus grunted in thought. “We’ll think of something.”

  Quite what Gus supposed he would say Gabrial could only wonder at. But he did as the big green dragon had asked and put back his head and bellowed, Guh-raaar! toning it to sound as if they needed help.

  Gruder circled a third time, taking another long look at the carnage on the rocks. Then, to Gabrial’s relief, he altered his wing shape and glided in. He landed on a hillock just in front of Gus, scattering loose dirt as his wings gathered down. He was a rather elegant dragon, as slight in his build as Gus was burly. He had dark green tufts all along his jawline and two bent fangs that poked out of his mouth when it was fully closed. “What happened here?” he asked, his voice as frail as cracking ice. He looked at them all in turn, his gaze hovering longest over Pine and Gariffred. The drake had wandered back into her company and was gleefully nuzzling her outstretched hand.

  “The Veng attacked us,” Gus said bluntly, raising his head to show his wound. It was blackening around the edges, but not in an adverse way. Pine’s poultice had split down the center but was largely intact. “We killed them in self-defense.”

  Gruder blew a thin line of smoke. He was one of those dizzy-eyed dragons who was never far from a puzzled expression. “But why would they attack you? What reason would they have?” His quizzical gaze drifted back toward Pine. She had found a dead tree branch and was dragging it around for Gariffred to chase. “Why is the Hom girl playing with the wearling? I thought she was our prisoner?”

  “Not anymore.” Gus raised his battle stigs.

  Gruder stumbled away a pace, his wing tips shuddering. “What’s going on here? What have you done?”

  “Gus, back off,” Gabrial growled. He stamped the ground to claim the sweeper’s attention. “Listen to me, Gruder. We mean you no harm. I was ordered to kill the girl in the hope of drawing Ren out of hiding. The Veng got involved and everything turned hostile. They bullied the drake and provoked a battle. Gus was poisoned in the fighting. The girl is running free because she saved his life with seeds and a poultice. For that reason, we are bound to let her go. Now that you know the truth, you have two choices: either you report us both to the Elders—or you help us to get away unharmed.”

  “Get away? You’re leaving?”

  “We have no choice.”

  “But if the killing was justified?”

  “Grynt won’t believe us. And if he did, he’d never free the girl.” Gabrial took a step closer to the sweeper. “All we need is time. Finish your circuit, then go to the Elders and make your report. Tell them you’ve seen two Veng, dead, on these cliffs, but with no apparent reason why. By the time they bring the Wearle to investigate, we will be gone. Will you do that for us?”

  Gruder inhaled a ball of smoke, his bent fangs dragging at his lower lip. “You can’t leave. The Wearle needs you. If the black dragon rises …” He stopped himself there. “Besides, where would you go with a damaged wing?”

  “He’s right,” Gus said to Gabrial. “You came to Gariffred hoping for a lead on the boy. More than once, I saw you looking at the mountains. You have unfinished business. You have to go back.”

  “How?” said Gabrial, puffing air through his spiracles.

  “Tell Grynt I started the fight and dragged you into it. You’ll need to invent some minor details and slur my name from here to the scorch line, but they’ll believe it, especially if Gruder backs you up.” He threw the sweeper a semi-threatening look.

  Gruder gulped and gave a swish of his tail. “I’ll do it. I’ll help.”

  Gabrial sighed heavily. “If the truth comes out, you’ll be branded a renegade.”

  “I don’t care. I hated them,” the sweeper cut in. “After the Veng destroyed per Grogan in the quarry, they made me search for his heart. When I found it, they gave it to the traitor, Givnay. Grogan was my teacher once. The best per I ever had. I can’t forgive Gallen for making me dishonor him.” He glanced across the water. “I’m glad they’re dead. It’s a good plan. You can rely on me.”

  “It’s a dangerous plan,” said Gabrial. “And we haven’t heard all of it yet.” He turned to Gus. “I assume you won’t wait here for Grynt to find you?”

  Gus fanned his impressive claws. “I’ll fly the girl across the water and take my chances. If Godith is smiling on me, I might yet live long enough to see my scales turn red.”

  Gabrial glanced at the ocean’s horizon. “You know Grynt will condemn you and your family name? You’ll never be allowed to return to Ki:mera.”

  The big dragon gave a casual sniff. “I came on this mission to see something different. I like it here. Clean air. Fresh water. A whole new world to explore. On Ki:mera, I’m just another roamer.” His gaze drifted back toward the mountains. For the first time, sadness blurred his eyes. “This is going to happen, Gabrial. This is my sacrifice, for you—and for Gariffred. I ask only one thing in return. Look after the Hom they call Rolan. If he’s dying as Grymric claims, hasten his end. He was brave for us once. He must not suffer.”

  Gabrial gave a faint nod. “I also have one request of you.”

  “Name it.”

  “Take Gariffred with you.”

  “What?” Gruder’s ears pinged back in shock. “You can’t desert a wearling. That’s worse than abandoning Grendel.”

  Gus raised an eye ridge. “The sweeper has a point.”

  “I don’t intend to desert him,” Gabrial argued. “I simply want him out of harm’s way. I will find him when it’s safe to do so. Besides, he’s never been accepted into the Wearle and Grynt refuses to listen to our pleas to have him formally Named. I want Gariffred to have the chance to explore. He’s an Erth dragon. His destiny is here. Grendel will be angry, but that’s for me to deal with.”

  As he spoke these words, a ripple of light flared in the distance. Somewhere over the mountaintops, the thick gray clouds were slowly parting, squeezing sideways in two unnatural arcs. A sign of a fire star opening. A black shimmer ran down its invisible center, forming what looked like a giant eye. As it grew in size, it threw out volleys of purple rays that made the snowcapped mountains shine. Then the sky folded and was calm again. Gabrial sank back on his haunches. That could only be Garodor leaving. The thought of his departure left a nervous hollow in the blue dragon’s breast. If anyone in authority would have understood this situation, it would have been the De:allus. At least he was safe and on his way back to Ki:mera.

  As for Ren, all Gabrial could hope for now was that the boy’s intentions were honorable. If the darkness inside him gained control, the whole Wearle was potentially at risk. If the black dragon rose, what then for the colony?

  What hope for peace on Erth?

  Shaking his dark thoughts aside, Gabrial dispatched Gruder into the air again, telling him to sweep the area until Gus was ready to leave. He then called Gariffred to him and told the drake that Gus was going to take him on a great adventure. They would fly across the water in search of new lands. When they found them, Gariffred must i:mage them as strongly as he could so that Ga
brial could come and find them as well. It was a big game of “seek,” the blue dragon said. He stroked Gariffred’s back. The game might last for days, he told him.

  “When you reach cloud cover, let him fly ahead of you,” Gabrial instructed Gus. “Stay out of bad weather if you can.”

  Gus looked up. The sky was turning uniformly gray. There was no real hint of rain, but there was a wintry feel in the air.

  “Carry him when he gets too tired,” said Gabrial. “If you haven’t found land by sunset, turn back.”

  Gus nodded. “And her?”

  Pine was wandering vaguely in front of them, drawing an ear of grass through her fingers. She stopped a few paces away and pushed her lank hair behind her ears.

  “I must return to the Wearle,” Gabrial said, pitching his voice across the gap to her. “It’s too dangerous for you to stay with me. If Gus permits, you may fly with him. Or you may go to your people. Choose.”

  Pine flicked the grass away. “I choose Gus.”

  The big roamer shrugged and opened his talons.

  “But I will not be carried like a hopper in his claws.”

  Gabrial grunted. The girl certainly had nerve. “Lower a wing,” he said to Gus.

  Gus extended the wing nearest her until it just touched the ground. The whole canopy was so large it completely shadowed Gariffred. Pine sprang up it like a mountain goat.

  Without further ado, Gus took off, barking at Gariffred to stay close to him.

  Watching the drake depart was the hardest thing Gabrial had ever had to do. But this was not a moment for mawkish regrets. He had spent too long on these cliffs. Grynt must be wondering about the outcome of his orders. And he needed to be told what had happened to the Veng. It was time to return to the mountains and face him.