“You have picked your own gift out of the lot,” she told me. “Shardas was making that for you. It was to be a flower. He almost threw it back in the furnace, but I told him to keep it anyway. ”
“Really?” The glass had a pleasing feel in my hand. “May I keep it then?”
“I think it is safe to say that you may. ”
Her eyelids drooped and I settled down by her side to sew while she napped, spreading my white gown out on a piece of coarse linen. I had all the pieces sewn together now: sleeves, bodice, collar, skirts, and was carefully stretching individual sections on my embroidery hoop and embroidering designs of dragons and trees and waves all over the gown. The designs were white on white, according to the tradition of the Triune Gods, but later I would sew on little crystals here and there—to highlight the dragons’ eyes, the fruit on the trees—that would give it subtle flashes and sparkles of color.
We had used this technique on Marta’s gown the year before. The idea had come from some silk we found in Citatie, which had tiny pieces of crystal or even metal sewn to it, creating a mirrored effect. We had used several lengths of the mirrored silk to create wing covers for Shardas, whose wings were still damaged from his dive into the Boiling Sea. The wing covers had enabled him to defeat his brother, the evil Krashath.
As magnificent as the wing covers had been, however, I was glad that we were only using mirrored silk and little crystals to make fine gowns now. I could live a long, full life, perfectly content, without ever having to see two dragons dueling again.
I kept the green glass flower where I could see it, and occasionally touch it, while I worked. It was very warm in the cave, and the silk of my gown was very soft. Before I knew it, I was asleep in a curve of Velika’s tail.
A noise woke me, and I was disoriented when I opened my eyes. It was so dark in the cave that I knew it must be night. Only a few sparkles of bluish white light reflected off the mirrors. I peered around but didn’t see Shardas. Velika was still breathing deeply, profoundly asleep at my back. I wondered how long we had been lying there, and why no one had come to wake us yet.
Sticking my lumpy glass flower in the pocket of my tunic and gathering my wedding gown into its basket so that it wouldn’t get stepped on, I stumbled out of the cave to look for Luka and Shardas. There was a wide clearing at the entrance, and in the light of the moons I could see Darrym standing there. I wondered if he had been asked to stand guard since Shardas wasn’t here. It seemed odd, though, that Velika would need a guard, and I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing. Was he just standing around staring, the way Shardas had been talking about?
Then the humans, with their bows and arrows, came creeping out of the jungle, and I shut my mouth.
At Moonrise
Call the queen, Creel,” Darrym said, his voice cold.
“No. ” I couldn’t stop staring at the people surrounding me.
I had never seen people that looked like this, not even in the Grand Market, in the heart of cosmopolitan Pelletie.
They were all men, tall and nearly naked, covered in bizarre white tattoos and strings of dull beads. Their long hair was pulled back from their faces in weird topknots decorated with quills, and more quills had been sewn to the striped cloth that wrapped around their hips and thighs like bandages. The effect was both fascinating and intimidating.
Page 17
And so were the arrows they were aiming at me.
“Call her,” Darrym said again, his voice high and tense.
“Why? What are you doing? Who are these people?” My own voice sounded just as strange.
“Call her, or they will shoot,” Darrym said.
One of the men did shoot, and the arrow buried itself in the sand directly between my feet. It was fletched with black feathers and the force of the shot had sunk it halfway into the sand.
“Velika!” I yelped. I couldn’t help it, and stared at Darrym, still defiant. Velika was twice his size, and wooden arrows were no match for dragonfire.
“What is it?” It took her some time to come to the mouth of the cave, and her swollen belly caused her to half-skid out of the entrance before she had a chance to see the archers.
And then the net dropped over us.
It was made of stiff leather, and dripping with a greasy liquid that made my eyes water. Velika roared, and flamed, and clawed, but the net only tangled in her claws and her fire did nothing. The basket on my back pinned me to the ground, and I couldn’t get my arms out of the straps.
The strange men yanked on ropes near their feet, and another net rose out of the sand where it had been concealed, trapping us like fish. Darrym rose into the air, taking some of the ropes in his claws, and two other small brown and green dragons came out of the trees to take the rest.
Velika and I were lifted up, awkwardly, frighteningly, in the nets and the dragons flew away with us. They barely cleared the trees, and I closed my eyes in terror, all the while screaming for someone to help us, but no friendly dragon appeared in the moonlight.
Silent except for an occasional moan, Velika was bunched beside and somewhat beneath me. Her scales were so hot it was making me uncomfortable. Once we were over the ocean and there was no one to hear my shouts but our kidnappers, I stopped yelling and tried to get her attention.
“Are you all right? Velika? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to call you, but the arrow . . . ” My protest sounded weak and I fell silent. I could have stood up to Darrym, to them. I always said that I would do anything for my friends, but when the first arrow landed at my feet I betrayed them. I clenched my fingers around the strands of the net and mentally cursed my cowardice.
“It is all right, Creel,” Velika said, her voice labored. “You could not have known . . . the other dragons . . . the fire-bane . . . ”
“Firebane?”
“An herb . . . brews . . . a potion that can be used against dragons. Stops us from flaming, makes us sleep . . . ”
In horror I realized that she meant the strange liquid on the net. It was extremely pungent; my nose and eyes streamed from the fumes. I began to yell again, my voice rough and strained, but this time I was yelling to our captors.
One in particular.
“Darrym! How could you do this to your queen?”
“It is because she is my queen,” was the reply. “We need her. ”
Once again he had the brown canvas bag strung around his neck. What was inside it? Bottles of this firebane? A jar of alchemical water, used to bespeak his cohorts? I kicked out at the net in frustration, but only succeeded in entangling one of my feet in an awkward way.
“Who?” I practically screamed the question at him. “Who are these people? Where did these dragons come from?”
I had not seen every dragon in the world, but I knew that Darrym was considered unusual for his dull coloring and his pale, cowlike horns. Where had he met two other dragons who looked just like him? How long had they been planning this?
These questions went unanswered, however, as did any others I shouted to him. He would only tell me coolly that “they” needed Velika, and the firebane was a necessary evil. He patted the bag at his neck again. All his nervous bobbing, his obsequiousness was gone. In its place was a smug arrogance that made me wish I had some firebane to pour on him.
As dawn broke, I saw that we were encircled by eight dragons. Those who were not carrying the net clutched enormous wicker baskets. I could see the faces of the odd, stern warriors who had helped capture us peering over the edges as we flew south and east, far from Shardas and any hope of rescue.
The consoling thought that at least I was with Velika, to comfort and aid her, was soon dashed. A small rocky islet came into view, and Darrym gave the order to the group to fly low over it.
One of the dragons carrying a basket of warriors glided in close, and a man with a fierce grin and a golden spike piercing his nose leaned out and cut two
of the strands of netting, nearly slicing my left arm in the process. He grabbed that arm, and my left knee, and gave a shout. His dragon flew even farther down, and I was pulled, screaming, through a hole in the net barely big enough to fit me. The basket containing my wedding gown stuck and nearly jerked my arms out of their sockets, but then it popped free as well. The man holding me leaned out over a bit of sand jutting away from the islet and let go.
Page 18
I landed facedown, fortunately missing any rocks. By the time I had regained my wind and coughed out the sand I had swallowed, Darrym and Velika and the others were nearly out of sight. Velika hadn’t been awakened by my struggles, and I worried anew for her and her eggs.
Tracking the flight as long as I could, I used a stick to mark their path in the sand so that we would be able to follow them. I was confident that Shardas and Luka would find me, and then we would get Velika back.
I had to believe it.
A quick tour of the islet revealed nothing growing and nothing edible, but I did find a few sticks and one smallish driftwood log that had washed ashore. I piled them up, pulled the flint and tinder from my belt pouch, and lit them. My signal fire was so pitiful that I soon added the scraps of fabric left over from my gown that were too small to be of use, some loose twigs from the basket, and then my own undertunic.
If I needed to, I would burn the linen wrappings for the gown, and then the basket.
If I needed to, I would burn the gown itself.
When Shardas came roaring and splashing down into the water beside my islet, the last of the linen had burned, and I was reaching for the basket.
“Creel!” Luka threw himself off Shardas and into the water, thrashed up onto the islet, and embraced me. I greeted him with equal enthusiasm: in fact, to my embarrassment, I began to cry.
“Th-they t-t-took her, I don’t know where,” I sobbed into his shoulder, while Shardas roared and sent spurts of water in every direction. Overhead other dragons circled, dragons I knew, like Niva and Feniul, who would have died rather than betray their queen.
“Both of you calm down!” Luka had to shout to be heard.
“Where is she?” Shardas’s eyes glowed with rage.
I sniffled. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize they had other dragons to help them—”
Shardas’s gaze softened and he swallowed the flames coming from his mouth.
“Creel, I am not blaming you,” he said in a gentler voice. “We all . . . Pots of firebane were thrown out of the jungle at us, and we were all helpless,” he explained. “I would never expect you to defend Velika alone. Did you see which direction they went?”
Gulping, I pointed to the arrows I had drawn in the sand. Part of my drawing had been washed away by Shardas’s violent arrival, and with a squawk I ran to retrace the lines before they disappeared entirely.
“I didn’t think there was anything in that direction,” Shardas said, studying the arrows and looking out across the water. “South and east? You are certain?”
“Yes. ”
“Then that’s where we’re going. ” He lifted his head and roared out something in the dragon language. It was loud and harsh, and Luka and I put our hands over our ears until it was over. Then he turned to us. “Get on. ”
Luka grabbed my basket and Shardas obligingly held out a foreleg. We managed to get on his back without dunking, and Shardas took off as soon as we were settled.
“Where’s Hagen? Is he all right?” I had to turn my head around as far as I could and shout the question, we were going so fast.
“He’s coming with supplies,” said Luka. “I think that’s what the dragontalk was about. Shardas has the rest of them waiting back on the islands. As soon as we find anything, they are going to gather food and follow. ”
“How long since they left you?” Shardas called back to me, his speed never wavering.
“Since dawn. ”
It seemed impossible, but he put on more speed, and Luka and I could do nothing but hunker down and cling like burrs. The usual exhilaration of flying was gone, stolen away by fear, and anger, and wind.
Frock Coat and Pigs’ Teeth
We flew for days on end, and would have given in to despair except for little signs our quarry left behind, giving us hope. There was no real land, but here and there tiny clusters of islets would provide rest and clues. We found signs of fresh fires, dragon claw marks, and recently shed scales of dull brown and green, proving we were on the right path.
“I never knew the ocean was so vast,” I said helplessly one morning as I climbed up on Shardas’s shoulders with Luka.
“I don’t think anyone did,” Luka replied, grim.
We were all feeling bleak. Shardas’s raging had subsided into a dreadful silence, broken only by the occasional grunted answer to a direct question.
Hagen and a horde of other dragons caught up with us at one of the islets. I invited my brother to trade places with Luka so that we might ride together for a while, but Hagen told me that he much preferred riding on Feniul, who looked less likely to suddenly turn violent.
Page 19
While I agreed that Shardas looked near his breaking point, it was all the more reason for me not to abandon him. So whenever he held out his foreleg, I clambered up and took my customary seat, with Luka behind me.
And we flew.
We came at last to a long, low island, curved like a sickle and covered with tall palm trees. We landed on the shore to rest, and a host of men in rough, brown kilts came out of the trees, wielding spears and shouting.
Luka leaped off Shardas’s back and went toward them with hands outstretched. I signaled to Hagen to stay on Feniul and went to stand beside Luka. I’m sure we looked a sight: sunburned and filthy, Luka’s hair standing on end and mine unraveling from its double-dozen braids.
And then there was the fleet of dragons with us.
Using hand gestures, Luka tried to signal to them that we wanted only to rest here, but the leader of the men was adamant that we go. He seemed particularly agitated by the dragons. Not frightened by them, I noticed, just insistent that they leave. He indicated that we humans could stay, but that our friends were not welcome.
“So they have seen dragons, and they don’t like them,” Luka said in an undertone.
I looked at our friends. They were all tired. Their scales were crusted with salt and several of them were twitching the nets strung over their backs, wanting to scoop up some fish and eat. Shardas looked like he was losing his patience, lashing his tail and snorting hot little bursts of air.
Then a man came out of the trees wearing an incongruous red frock coat over his kilt and bearing a staff decorated with pigs’ teeth. I identified his coat as of Roulaini make, and whispered as much to Luka.
The man bowed his head gracefully, and asked a question in what I recognized as Citatian, even though my grasp of that language had never been good. With obvious relief, Luka replied in the same language, and they talked for some minutes, the man occasionally gesturing with his staff.
When both Luka and the man were satisfied, they nodded cordially and the spear-carrying men retreated. All but two, that is, and their leader in his frock coat. They stood on the sand and watched us as we walked back to Shardas and the others.
“That was very unexpected,” Luka said.
“He’s been to the Grand Market at Pelletie,” I guessed.
“His family goes every ten years or so,” Luka confirmed. “He says that we can rest here, and fish,” he went on in a louder voice, and most of the dragons dispersed to gather food or sprawl on the sand.
Niva and her mate, Leontes, Amacarin, Feniul, and Shardas remained to hear what else Luka had to say. Hagen slid down off Feniul and came to my side, putting an arm around my shoulders so heavily that it nearly dragged me to my knees. We were all so tired I didn’t know if we would even be able to
fight Darrym and the others when we caught up to them.
“They flew overhead only last night,” Luka said. “They didn’t land, though. They know that they aren’t welcome here. ”
“So these people have had dealings with Darrym’s dragons, and the people with them, before?” Leontes, an alchemist, was peering keenly at our three watchers as he asked.
“Some. Not long ago the dragons came here, towing people in those baskets, and asked questions by drawing figures in the sand. They wanted to know if there were any dragons living here, if dragons had ever been seen here, and what colors the dragons were. ”
“Strange,” Leontes said slowly.
“The only ones who had ever seen a dragon before were the chief’s family, who had been to Citatie and seen dragons there, so the visitors flew on. A week later a half dozen dragons arrived and tried to capture the people of this island, but they managed to fight the attackers off. ”
“Stranger and stranger,” Leontes commented.
“You can see why they don’t want a whole army of dragons landing on the beach,” Hagen said.
“Precisely,” Luka said. “I had to assure him over and over that we weren’t going to attack, that we were just passing through. I think the news that we had been attacked by one of those hostile dragons, and were looking to fight with them, was what really persuaded them to let us rest here. ”
“Will they help us?” I looked over at the three men watching us, but their faces were expressionless. “Would they send any warriors with us, to fight Darrym’s people?”
“I’ll ask, but I don’t think so,” Luka said.
While we were eating, Luka did ask Frock Coat if he would send some men with us but the response was a resounding “No!” Apparently they had their hands full dealing with an island nation to the west that occasionally sent an invading force against them.
Page 20
“Do they know how far it is to wherever Darrym is headed?” I fastened my sewing basket to Shardas’s spine ridges and then sat down in front of it.
“No,” Luka said. “They’ve never gone that far. But they also believe that there is a land even farther to the southeast that is the home of the gods, and they don’t want to risk the gods’ wrath by trespassing. The farthest anyone from here has gone is two days’ journey by boat, and there was no sign of land. ”