Many long moments pass; her contractions become stronger and more frequent as she waits. Finally Estrola sweeps into the chamber, her golden eyes whirling in the dim light as she rushes to the nest. “Thou is progressing well?” The midnight-blue dragon hovers over Trella, swaying back and forth.
“Mine abdomen writhes with a life of its own; it feels like I am going to turn inside out.”
Estrola’s eyes shine with a glint of humor. “Then, yes, thou is proceeding well.”
Another contraction seizes her and she stretches out on the nest, her whole body tense. Her abdomen undulates with each contraction of her birth channel.
“That looks like it hurts.” Pearlitta’s voice is barely above a whisper.
Trella turns her gaze on the child rushing toward her from the entrance. “It does, but not unbearably so.”
“Healer Geramn said he could block your pain.” Pearlitta’s blue eyes darken with concern.
“No, I want to experience everything.”
“But, you do not need to hurt.”
Belnarth steps beside Estrola. “I will go get the Healer.”
Estrola leans down to stroke Trella’s cheek. “I doubt there is time.”
Pearlitta gasps as the first egg peaks out from Trella’s birth orifice. “Oh, something is trying to come out!”
Trella shifts and the egg withdraws. “I suspect the next contraction, we will have some lain.”
Estrola lifts her neck, the midnight-blue scales vibrate, and a thrumming fills the chamber as she begins the birthing song.
Her eyes bright with excitement, Pearlitta edges closer. Belnarth reaches to draw her back, but Pearlitta impatiently shakes off his hand.
“She is fine: it is good to have her close.” Trella strokes her head gently against her little friend.
Another contraction seizes her and she stifles a moan. Three eggs flow from her birth channel, red, blue and green; they glisten in the nest beside her.
“Three, you have three already!” Pearlitta vibrates with excitement as she reaches to touch one of the glistening orbs. “Oh, they are still warm and not hard at all.”
Trella jerks with surprise as Belnarth’s baritone voice begins to recite Prava’s lineage. Her eyes mist and she blinks tears away, her heart filled with joy that their sire’s family will be known to their clutch.
Pearlitta, her face suffused with joy, strokes Trella’s side as, shimmering with moisture, more eggs expel from Trella. They are a bit taller than the child, and Pearlitta steps closer to examine them. “They are not white; not really, each has a slight color to the shells. Your eggs are beautiful, Trella!”
Belnarth pauses in his recital and Estrola takes up the chant, listing Trella’s bloodlines.
“Can they hear you?” Pearlitta’s eyes, wide as saucers, lift to gaze in wonder at Estrola.
Estrola nods, her golden eyes swirling with amber glints. “Yes, child, they can learn language in the shell and often retain what they hear.”
Pearlitta’s eyes well with tears, her face one of radiant joy as she lift her gaze to Trella. “Can I talk to them?”
“Of course, thou is my friend.”
“Welcome, baby dragons. My name is Pearlitta and I am a friend of your mother, and yours.” Pearlitta moves close to the clutch and stokes a light-green egg. “I cannot wait to meet you all in person. And I have things I want to tell you, too, about your fine dama.”
More eggs join the growing pile as Trella bears down to bring the rest of her clutch into the world. Eggs spill out until over thirty lie glistening in the nest.
Pearlitta climbs upon Trella’s tail, seats herself where she can touch the eggs. Estrola drapes her neck over Trella’s back to rest her nose on the clutch. She softly begins to hum the song of welcoming.
Trella’s golden eyes whirl softly in the light of the orbs. “Such a small amount of life is made up of unforgettable moments.” She nudges Pearlitta. “This, my friend, is such a moment.” Her eyes brim with tears.
Chapter 26
Hern glances over his shoulder. The two dragons look almost as dumbfounded as he was the first time he saw a protective field. “Nor Yalkin, is the height sufficient? Will it catch them in flight?”
Yalkin nods, then his huge black head turns from side to side to study the glowing red arc that glitters across the small valley. The arc is transparent. Evergreens and long grass, dead in the mid-winter chill, spread beneath them. A small stream trickles through the center, most of its width encased in ice. “For how long can they sustain this?”
“They have been at it for five hours so far, this is the first test of this magnitude. The previous protective fields they sustained over three sunrises, but those were much, much, smaller.” Hern gestures along the ridge where they stand. “We have the Shaman encircling this valley, to allow for more height with the field-dome. However, I think with more practice they can maintain a field on a flat area with as much height.” He scrubs his arms briskly; despite his thick cloak, he is chilled to the bone. “The main problem will be maintaining the field long enough.”
Yalkin turns a puzzled gaze toward him. “The camouflage fields over two of thy caverns have been maintained for moons.”
“Yes. Yet, this is a different type of power and they are less accustomed to maintaining it. The camouflage barrier is maintained with the orange crystals. Those able to access the power of that crystal tell me it becomes a task as natural as breathing for them to maintain the field. They do not think about it much, any more than you focus on breathing.” He grins as both dragons begin to inhale and exhale in choppy breaths. “Yes, you see, once your attention has been brought to your breathing, you make effort to breath, and spend an inordinate amount of energy to maintain it.”
“This protective field is something they cannot put in place and maintain with the ease of the other, then?”
“The red crystals require strength of focus that is well beyond that of the orange crystal.” Hern rubs his hand across his forehead. “Shaman tire more easily, they feel a constant pressure in their heads while maintaining the field and it draws much from them. We do not have enough Shaman that we can allow any to rest and still maintain the field. Therefore, they simply begin to collapse with too long a term.” He glances at the field. “Right now, we can maintain it for five hours; with practice, we hope for a longer time.”
Niwah shakes his head; his right eye with the gash over it radiates skepticism. “I do not see how thou intends to ensure all the Volastoque are entrapped in this field.”
Hern turns to the deep-green dragon, swallows through a tightness in his throat before he responds. “I, and others like me, will make certain they are.”
Niwah chuckles and the web of battle-scars across his body jig in the bright sunlight as he heaves himself to his feet. “Forgive me, Nor Hern, if I am skeptical of that claim.”
“Pardon me, Nor Niwah, but I think you need an example.” Hern pulls the yellow crystal on its chain from beneath his tunic and grasps it in his hand. For a moment his eyes close as he gathers and focuses the energy of the crystal.
He glances about the bare ridge; his eyes catch on a lone pine a short distance down the opposite side from the protected valley. He turns his gaze back to the green dragon. His hand begins to radiate warmth as a yellow glow works its way from the crystal, up his arm, and encases his head. He pushes forth the thought, using enough force to ensure compliance.
Niwah’s good eye flies open wide as he jerks around and rushes the short distance to the pine. Clods of dirt fling into the air as he jerks the pine up by the roots. Carrying it in his mouth, he returns to slam it on the ground near Hern.
Hern allows the power from the crystal to dissipate, withdrawing his control from the dragon.
Niwah’s battle fires ignite and smoke trickles from his nostrils. He shakes himself in an obvious attempt to rein in his anger, and then speaks, his Mindspeak seething with controlled resentment, “Very well, Nor Hern, thou has prov
en thy point. But will thou be able to control the vast numbers of creatures foretold in the prophecy?”
“Myself, alone, no. However, others will combine their powers with my own, just as we have done to create this protective field.”
“If thou can do this, bring them to where they can be entrapped, then why must there be sacrifice of life?” Yalkin’s Mindspeak is soft and his red eyes whirl as he gazes, unblinking, at Hern.
Hern’s shoulders slump as he gestures to the red-pulsing arc. “It blocks out our powers. The Shaman who call the creatures and the Shaman who use the blue rays must be inside to use their powers, as will the dragons to fight them.”
Once again smoke puffs from Niwah’s nostrils, but Hern thinks it is not directed at him this time. “We will be locked inside, in a battle to the death.”
“Yes.”
“So, when we prevail, thy Shaman sustaining this field will remove it.”
“That is the plan. Hopefully, they can sustain the field long enough to allow our combined forces to eliminate the beasts.”
Yalkin’s eyes hold shadows deep within them as he asks, “And if they cannot?”
Hern raises his hand and waves it. A young Shaman fifty strides away nods and relays the gesture. The red glow of the protective field intensifies. Ripples of power surge across its surface and it begins to bulge. A loud crackle, similar to the sound of static, emanates from the field, then with a whoosh of air, it crashes inward with a blast.
Hern and the dragons brace themselves against the strong wind that rakes across the ridge. He closes his eyes against the bright, crimson flash filling the valley. When he opens them, the valley is laid to waste. Trees fall in a pattern radiating out from the center, naked of their bark as if scraped clean by a large hand. The stream is gone, only the bed in which it traveled marks that it ever existed.
They stand in silence for a moment. Hern’s ears are still ringing when Yalkin’s Mindspeak comes to him. “All inside will die.”
Hern signals to the Shaman that they are dismissed to rest and turns away from the destruction below them. “Yes. They will hold the field as long as they can. However, if we are losing, or if they are in threat of losing the ability to sustain the field, they will make it implode.”
The dragons continue to stare in awe at the devastation, but Hern keeps his gaze upon the hills. A single tear trickles down his face as he prays to the Lady that the Shaman maintaining the field can hold it long enough for dragons and Shaman to emerge as survivors.
~!~
Estrola steadies the egg as Belnarth scoops more sand around its base. They work by the light of four orbs. Her gaze runs across the assembled clutches. Over two hundred already in this one location, and it was only one of five prepared to accept the eggs that were the hope of dragonkind’s future.
“There, I think that has it.” Belnarth straightens and uses a rag to mop his sweating face. “Turn loose of it, Estrola; let us see if it is stable.”
She releases the egg, her fore-talons staying inches away in case it shifts. “I think that does it.” She eases back from the egg, moving far enough away so Belnarth can activate the stasis field. A slight tingle rushes across her body as the field engages.
“By the Lady, it is warm in here.” Belnarth plods over beside the crystal-enrobed wall and eases to sit.
“These crystal caverns are ideal. All five of the locations are fed with a hot spring and the humidity and warmth will help ensure the health of the eggs while in stasis.” She turns her gaze away from the eggs to sweep the chamber. They are behind falls. The musical rush of water fills the chamber and beads of moisture fill the air. Although she cannot attune to the crystals, she can sense the Healing power that pervades the chamber. “Come. Belnarth, let us return. I wish to assure Trella that her eggs made it safely.”
“Very well,” the Shaman mumbles and struggles to his feet. He grabs a pack from the ground and then shuffles around extinguishing three of the four orbs. The fourth he leaves aglow so they may have some light when they return. “Are you sure you can fly back right now? I, for one, am exhausted.”
“I am fine. This cargo tarp,” she gestures to the canvas sack slung over her back, “made it where there were only two trips this time. Thou had most of the work, transporting and then working to secure the eggs in the nest. Thou can rest while I fly us back.”
They ease around the falls and enter an immense cavern. Amber-colored spikes, the diameter of a man, jut from the ceiling and reach eternally for their counterparts on the floor. Sparkling columns are plentiful throughout the expanse. The white, peach, and amber crystals covering their surface reflect miniature rainbows that give the cavern a soft glow.
The sparkling waterfall beside them crashes into a deep, rich amber-colored steaming lake. Water droplets fill the air, creating a haze in front of the falls.
“Estrola, I would love a good soak before we go.” Belnarth starts away from the falls, following the shoreline. “There is a small alcove a ways down the shore with an excellent place to soak.”
“How does thou know of this?”
“I told you. This cavern is one of the locations used to train Healers, or used to be anyway. I often brought apprentices here over the years before I met you.” Belnarth follows a jagged turn of the lake and stops where the shoreline dips into a small alcove, no more than fifteen strides wide. He begins to shed his clothes. “You should join me. The water here has Healing properties and you still need to soak some of your injuries away.”
Estrola peers in front of Belnarth as he proceeds to strip down to his loin cloth. A basin extends from the lake, lined with stone benches. She watches as Belnarth enters using hand-hewn steps that shimmer beneath the water and run down from the shore to the bottom of the waist-deep pool. Over a dozen people could sit comfortably, or six to eight recline on the benches, without being crowded. Belnarth grins at her as he settles on a bench.
“You may as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures at the lake. “Come on in, the water is fine.”
“Belnarth, we really do not have time for this.”
“Yes we do. I am too tired to transport us right now.” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he once again points to the lake. “If you would follow my example and rest a while, I can transport us back. Basically the time it would take you to fly, we can soak instead.”
Unable to refute the logic of his statement, Estrola enters the lake. The water is almost too hot. She pauses, with only her legs submerged, to allow herself to become accustomed to the temperature. Her talons flex in the water; already she can tell they benefit from the heat, as the joints do not ache as much.
Holding her breath, she lowers her body to settle on the bottom. She exhales when the rush of blood creeps up her torso as her body accommodates to the hot water. Water laps gently over her shoulders as she settles. It feels wonderful. She gazes about the cavern, enchanted with the beautiful crystalline pillars and projections hanging from the ceiling. “It is lovely here.”
Belnarth sighs, scooting down on the bench to settle with the water at chin height. “Peaceful too. I think that is one of the things I miss the most. We are always bustling about on errands or engaged in battle. Any more it is too much to ask for a moment or two of peace and quiet.”
Estrola lowers her head to allow it to float on the water surface. Only the rustle of bat wings near the ceiling, the sound of the falls, and the lap of the water on the shore breaks the quiet.
She must have dozed off.
Estrola opens her eyes and yawns. By the Lady, she feels good. The aches and pains in her body have receded to a point where she can almost ignore them.
“Enjoy your nap?”
She glances at Belnarth. He has pulled his pack to the shore beside him and chews on a strip of dried meat. “How long have I been asleep?”
“Not long enough.”
“When thou finishes thy meal, we need to get back.” She shifts in the water, extending her wings to fl
oat upon its surface.
“The next clutch is not due for several sunrises, there is no real hurry.”
She takes a few strokes with her wings, gliding out to where the water is deeper. “Thou knows we need to be available in the event of an attack.”
“True, yet I doubt a few hours more will make much of a difference.”
She does not respond. Rather she thrusts her wings and swims the perimeter of the lake. It really is huge, much larger than the expanse covered by many of the human towns. The muscles in her wings and shoulders loosen with the exercise in the hot water and soon she is speeding along as fast as or faster than she could fly. She sees little sign of the humans using the underground grotto. An occasional alcove, such as that where Belnarth rests, but not much more to indicate the Healers had been here before.
She returns to where Belnarth rests. “Perhaps we should transport to check on the other clutches in stasis. A couple we have not been to for well over a drama.”
“I am sure they are fine. The stasis fields have performed well.”
She shakes her head. “Thou would not be so quick to trust this new stasis if it safeguarded the future of humans.”
Belnarth sits upright, his eyes hard as he glares at her. “That is not fair. You know I am as concerned about our task as you are.”
“Thou is not a dragon, there is no way thou can understand the threat of annihilation of our species.”
“No, perhaps not. Yet has it dawned on you that as a Shaman, I am part of the human species that will be wiped out as well.”
Embarrassment surges through Estrola. “My apology.”
Belnarth nods and, his body held rigid, he climbs the steps and begins to dress. “You are not in this alone, Estrola.”
She eases onto the bank. “I know, I know. It is just so hard. I understand why the Elders felt it necessary to keep the prophecy from the other dragons. Yet, sometimes I feel the responsibility of safeguarding dragonkind’s future has fallen upon me alone.”
Belnarth pulls his tunic over his head. His hair in disarray, he stares at her. “It is the same for me, and I must maintain silence with my fellow Shaman as well. Estrola, you are not in this alone.”