“Of course not. I am sorry, Belnarth. I am out of sorts today.”
“It is hard on both of us.” He steps into his trousers and sits to pull on his footwear. “I found myself trying to say everything I could to Pearlitta when we spent time together yesterday. I know I confused the poor child. However there were so many things I did not want to leave unsaid, when… Well, when this is over.”
She shakes the residual water from her scales and looks up at the breach in the ceiling where they enter the cavern. “We do what we can. Come, let us go check on the other clutches. I think perhaps we should seal the entrances on all but this one. That will keep them safe from any Volastoque explorations.”
“The Shaman Council left directions in three locations how to reverse this stasis, and the locations of the clutches for the survivors to use. We need to conceal the entrances, but keep in mind that anyone trying to revitalize the clutches may only be my size.”
He stands and walks over beside her, laying one hand on her forearm. “Are you ready?”
At her nod, he transports them to begin their round of checking on the precious clutches in stasis.
~!~
Aura and Kilita stand waiting at the base of the hill. Montello is trying to coax Falcop into coming down with his kill. Aura’s heart is filled with pride. Her youngling made his first solo kill today.
Kilita turns her gaze toward Aura. “He did well. I remember my first kill, I overshot the deer by several strides and had to double back to get him.”
“Yes, Falcop is a natural hunter. Much like his sire.”
“I know thou looks forward to seeing thy mate, when we join them nextday.”
“Yes, it has been too long.”
They can hear Montello as he manages to convince the young dragon that coming down to show off his kill is better than continuing to feed. Kilita chuckles as the green dragon grasps the large deer in his mouth and proudly scrambles down the hill, Montello frantically trying to keep up. “He is quite large for his age.”
“Yes, Montello has seen to him receiving the best of the selections here. He said Falcop is already consuming six to eight deer a drama.”
The pair arrives beside Kilita and Aura. Falcop proudly places the deer at Aura’s feet, then strikes a proud pose. “My dama, I hunt.”
“Yes, and a fine deer it is too, Falcop. Thy sire will be most pleased with thee.” Aura lowers her head to stroke her cheek alongside Falcop’s. “Soon thou will be helping to provide for the caverns.”
“Tomorrow, I hunt for the caverns. This deer is mine.” Falcops’s eyes take on a gleam of possessiveness, then he lowers his head. “Unless thou would like to feed, dama?”
“No, no, thou enjoy thy first kill, my son.”
Falcop reaches to grab the deer, then pauses. “Nora Kilita, would thou like to feed?”
“My thanks, Falcop, but thou should eat it. There is only one ‘first kill’ and thou should enjoy the fruits of thine efforts.”
“I can get you something?” Montello tugs on his forelock and smiles at the two dragons. “It will be no trouble, as I will not have to get Falcop his meal this evening.”
Aura shakes her head. “We can hunt momentarily. Thou has done a fine job caring for my son, thank thee, Montello.”
The young man’s eyes grow soft as he gazes at the young, green dragon. “It is I who should thank you, for this opportunity. Falcop is very important to me, he has become family.”
Kilita nods, her eyes sparkling as she responds, “Yes, I know what thou means; I too have found family is not limited by species.”
Aura can feel her heart swell with warmth. “No, indeed, we find many individuals to cherish, be they dragon or human.”
Chapter 27
Hern’s gaze sweeps across the serving cavern. Scattered across the tables in small groups, people enjoy midday repast. He looks at his own meal; he needs to eat, yet he finds little appetite. So many problems, so many preparations…
Forking some mashed roots into his mouth, he forces his thoughts to the more positive aspects. Arrangements come together to safeguard the dragons’ clutches produced to place in stasis. The Shaman of the red crystals managed to enlarge and increase the protective field’s power.
He swallows the mashed root past the constant tightness in his throat and spears a small sausage and takes a bite. The flavor of sage and pork bursts in his mouth. Chewing, he reflects that even the prophecies branch in directions more positive, if a bit confusing. The report he received on the three new ones this sunrise… He is yet to understand.
He swallows and takes another bite of sausage. The dragon elders are as confused as he after he relayed the fresh prophecies. All three, with some variations, show the Lady taking the souls of dragons lost in the upcoming battles to Herself, then sending them back into the world. None of their teachings or ancient texts even hinted such a thing is possible.
He sighs. Who are they to question the powers of a god?
The dragon elders, although confused, rejoice over the information. He knows from their reactions their commitment rests much lighter on their shoulders with the prospect of intervention by the Lady.
He sighs, forcing down a few more bites of his food. In reality, things come together well. Montello settles into a strong relationship with Falcop. Hern has no fear the lad will not thrive after the final battle. Geramn included him in several fishing outings with his own boys and Montello fits in fine with them.
So, what really has him so on edge?
He completes his meal and, after dealing with his dishes, dons his cloak and exits the chamber. He decides to stroll to the courtyard at the main tunnel entrance. A breath of fresh air will do him good. The tunnels and chambers he passes are filled with bustling people. The Palmir People are always in a hurry to get anywhere and get things done. He chuckles; he supposes that is much of the reason they prospered. At least, until the incursion of the Volastoque.
He exits the cavern tunnel and moves out upon the cobblestone courtyard. The desolate landscape of mid-winter greets his gaze. The valley below is bereft of color, the muted tones of dead grasses and here-and-there piles of un-melted snow are the predominate features. Kitloch is too far south to really lock into winter as much of the land does. He tugs his cloak snugger around his thin body. Although the temperatures certainly lower each day.
He moves to the banister around the edge of the courtyard and gazes into the valley.
Three dragons patrol the perimeter within the camouflage cloak. A red and two greens, today. He can see the herd with those who tend it scattered about the lower portion of the valley. The camouflage field is extended to reach into the woods to allow the herd shelter against some of the worst weather.
Geramn has his Healers-in-training down there with them today. Hern watches them inspect the herd as the knot of tension in his belly slowly begins to ease.
Since they made the decision to prepare for the prophecy that requires the sacrifice of Shaman and dragons, he believes it to be the correct decision. Yet, always, the sacrifice seems overwhelming. He knows the time grows near. All portents point to the climactic battle occurring soon, perhaps within a drama, certainly before the next moon.
The Lady has shown them the path. He must place his trust in Her that it is the best path for the Palmir People. He allows the peace of the view to sink into his soul. For the first time, he is reconciled to the need for the sacrifice, of all those who will die to save their people, including himself.
~!~
Geramn grins as Elish’s face takes on an aspect of wonder when the youth moves into the primary position in the Healing trance. Geramn watches the bone knit beneath Elish’s hands and he helps restore the blood supply to the bull’s foreleg. Geramn guides the final push of the Healing wave to continue the curing and withdraws from the trance.
“You did well, lad.” He reaches across the young bull to clasp Elish’s shoulder as the youngster comes out of his trance a bit bleary-eyed.
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A faint blush colors Elish’s cheeks as he reaches to push his brown hair back from his eyes. “Thank you, Nor.”
The young bull shakes his head and the two of them leap back. The bull rises to lie on his thorax; his unsteady gaze pins the two of them.
“It may be best if we move away before he can get to his feet. Not all of our patients recognize we are here to help.” Geramn takes Elish’s forearm and guides him quickly away from the bull.
Elish hurries beside him. “I appreciate you allowing me to take the lead Healer position this time, Nor Geramn.”
“You were ready, lad. I kept an eye on things, you did everything correctly.” Geramn gazes across the field, noting which apprentices are still engaged in tasks with the cattle and how many are at rest near the small fire. “It appears most of our chores here are finished. Sheina asked that you join our family for evening meal, if you are free?”
“I would love to come, Nor Geramn.” Elish’s green eyes take on a sparkle. “Are we going to play arul, again, afterwards?”
Geramn chuckles. “My boys do love it. They have worn out two hide-covered balls in the last moon alone.” He reaches and ruffles Elish’s hair. “It is a game that requires a steady hand, good training for a Healer.”
Elish grins and scampers on ahead of Geramn to help gather up the supplies. Geramn waves his hand to get the attention of the other apprentice Healers. “I think we will call it a day. If everyone would give those still finishing up a hand, we can head back to the cavern.”
Healer Derness catches his eye and calls, “I can stay with the ones still finishing exams. All the injuries are taken care of, so these are just routine physicals. You go on ahead, spend some time with your family.”
Geramn waves his thanks and starts across the meadow to the road leading back to the cavern. The camouflage dome above him polarizes the light from the late afternoon sun and gives his surroundings a faint orange hue. There is little traffic on the road. It has been dramas since the final caravans arrived from outlying areas and the Shaman Council banned all but necessary traffic outside the dome. To do otherwise would have risked the revelation of their location.
Of Sheina’s family there is still no word, and he fears that means they were all lost in the attacks. Geramn’s own brother Derk and his mate and children are confirmed losses, along with his sister Tecla’s mate and sons. So many losses.
Geramn’s feet make little sound as he strides along the well-packed road. He will ask Montello to join them at evening meal. Jadrun’s son seems well adjusted to his circumstances, yet Geramn often sees shadows of grief in the lad’s eyes. It will do him some good to spend some time with Elish and the boys.
He reaches the spot two-thirds up the road, where it begins its steep incline to reach the cavern, when a dragon sentry’s challenge rings out. Geramn’s throat tightens as adrenalin rushes through his body. He lifts his hand to shade his eyes and sees a red and a green dragon arrowing across to where another green hovers, his neck arched high, with battle flames ignited. The green dragon stares past the barrier, to the east. From where he stands, Geramn cannot see anything past the semi-opaque arc of the camouflage barrier.
He glances toward where the apprentices are and sees Healer Derness hurrying them toward the shelter of the woods. His gaze turns back to the green dragon to see the dragon’s neck lower and his flames diminish. Geramn unclenches his fists and breathes a sigh of relief, it is no danger then.
Quickening his ascent to the cavern, he keeps his eyes on the sky near where the three dragons congregate. The sight of a battered yellow dragon emerging through the camouflage shield brings his strides to a halt. Even from his distance, he recognizes Trella. Large rents along the yellow’s sides are clearly visible and her flight is wobbly at best. The two green dragons fly escort to the battered yellow toward the courtyard at the entrance to the cavern.
Geramn pushes into a run and arrives at the courtyard as the dragon drops a battered Shaman onto the cobblestones and collapses her wings, managing a rough landing. Making a quick appraisal, Geramn decides Trella needs his attention first. He rushes over, his eyes moving quickly across her wounds to ascertain which are worst in need of attention.
Trella’s wings splay around her as she sags where she stands. Her green eyes well with pain as she turns them upon Geramn. “Thou must take the Shaman to Hern, immediately.”
Geramn turns to the Shaman, only to see Shaman Hern making his way across the cobblestones. “He is here.” Returning to his examination, he asks, “Where did you encounter the beasts?”
“North of Burick Lake.” Her breath hisses between her teeth as Geramn pries at a long rent in her side. “Hundreds of them, aid must be sent. Where are the dragon elders?”
Geramn shakes his head. “I do not know, but you must be still. If I do not get these wounds closed, you will bleed out here on the courtyard.”
“In a moment, Healer.” Trella drags herself closer to Shaman Hern; Geramn has no alternative but to follow.
“… of the dragons remain. Maybe thirty or so, to hold them until backup arrives.” The transport Shaman clutches his side, his face pale with agony as he struggles to convey the message. “They will not be able to keep them away from the cavern.”
Shaman Hern’s body is rigid and his eyes piercing as he asks, “Has Burick Lake been warned?”
“Is there a Royal here at Kitloch?” Trella’s Mindspeak cuts off the transport Shaman’s reply.
Shaman Hern jerks around to stare at the dragon. “Yes, of course. We can send a message to Burick Lake’s sentries.”
“The dragon elders need informed as well. If reinforcements do not arrive soon, all will be lost.”
Shaman Hern freezes for a moment, all color drains from his face. “Yes, of course. We have made preparations.” He turns to a young man at the side of those gathered. “You, run to the dragon quarters and see that a message is sent to the dragon elders. Tell them the battle for which we have prepared is imminent at Burick Lake.”
Trella eases to sit beside Geramn. “Healer, seal these wounds, so that I may return to fight beside my comrades.”
“Nonsense, you are not going anywhere.” Geramn places his hands on the yellow dragon, preparing to enter a Healing trance.”
“No, she is right. Heal her so that she may return.”
Geramn turns to stare at Shaman Hern, but he is already turning and yells for all Shaman to gather for transportation to Burick Lake Cavern. He returns his gaze to Trella.
“Quickly, Healer Geramn, for each moment we waste, those creatures kill more dragons and encroach upon the humans at Burick Lake.”
He immerses himself in the Healing wave, sending a quick prayer to the Lady that he does not Heal this dragon only to send her off to die.
Chapter 28
Light-headed and dizzy, Hern pauses at the entrance to the cavern, leaning against the door frame as he takes a moment to pull himself together. He feels as tight and drawn out as an archer’s bowstring before the release. He stares at the yellow dragon as Healer Geramn works on her. This is it. The final conflict foretold by prophecy, this has to be it.
Hundreds of the creatures attack, more than on any other occasion. This must be the event foretold. He trembles as the full impact of this sinks in. The courtyard surges with activity when red crystal-using Shaman arrive and gather around transport Shaman who will take them to their destiny. Each man or woman wears a solemn expression of determination.
Hern forces himself to center, and slowly his trembling ceases. His gaze is drawn to the yellow dragon; she appears anxious for the Healer to complete her repairs so she may return to battle. She so typifies those who struggle to save the Palmir People.
His spine straightens and he stops several youths, issuing instructions for deployment of the Shaman who will erect the protective barrier. There is a valley to the north of Burick Lake Cavern that should suit their needs nicely.
He glances down at his attire. He h
ad been headed to his chambers to change, but thinks better of it. He sends a youth for his cloak and joins the Shaman readying for transport. Four transportation Shaman have already arrived on the courtyard and he bids them to take the Shaman of the red crystals to their location. One by one the groups disappear.
The yellow dragon stands and he can hear her Mindspeak as she calls out to the sentry dragons that she is ready to join them in transporting to the battle. He steps to the rail between the ledge and the valley below and watches as she joins the three dragons, one holding a transport Shaman in its forearms. The four dragons transport away.
For a moment, all is quiet in the courtyard behind him and Hern takes a deep, appreciative breath of the crisp, clean air. The Lady has blessed them with a fine day to die for their people.
~!~
Maru dodges a stream of Killer Frost. He twists sideways, blasting his battle flames over the tan creature. His breath hisses out in a rapid pant as Maru watches the beast’s wings ignite and then turns his attention to another. There are so many. The air above the large lake teems with Volastoque, swirling through the air like an angry hornet swarm.
Multi-hued colors of the dragons look like mere specks of flotsam amongst the teeming mass of the creatures. The chilly air thickens with odors of burning flesh and screeches of the dying and wounded.
Maru draws in a ragged breath and blasts another Volastoque. His body slams into a spiral as another beast rakes talons across his tail. Frantically his wings grab air, steadying his flight. The Volastoque that got his tail attacks again, and reaches talons dripping with blood for his wings.
Maru folds his wings and dives. Chill air blasts past as he rapidly looses altitude, the beast in close pursuit. Maru extends his wings at the last moment and skims across the lake’s surface, his passage throwing water in his opponent’s face.
Powerful downward thrusts allow him to gain altitude and his body folds as he turns to spew fire across his opponent. The beast shrieks and crumples, tumbling to splash into the lake. For a few breaths the air around him is clear of the creatures and Maru scans the battlefield as his breathing slows from the quick gasps to normal.