When Liandra bent double and began to shriek. Maida wrapped herself around her lover, helpless. She tried to push Liandra back, into the opening in the mountain, although she was also terrified of falling down the steep stairs.
Liandra tried to run forward. Maida threw her weight against her lover’s chest, barely forcing her to stagger to a halt. The distraught Princess clutched herself tightly and screamed again and again. Maida could not move her. It was if she were rooted into the stone beneath her feet.
Then Liandra arched her back and shrieked, “Torrie! Oh Torrie!” With inhuman strength she tore herself from Maida’s arms and flung herself forward into the bue sky.
It was Maida shrieking now. She threw herself to her belly and pulled herself to the lip of the platform just in time to see Liandra’s tiny, far-off form turning and twisting in slow motion through the air before disappearing among the thick trees lower down on the mountainside.
Her lover would be lying down there, surely hurt badly. She had to get to her. She ran into the mountain and down the stairs, slipping on the old stone, catching herself, calling Liandra’s name over and over again and hearing it echo up and down the narrow tunnel.
Chapter 132: Jessa
Without warning, the Dragons began to make piercing calls. They abandoned the battle and rose into the sky on their huge wings. They turned, hundreds together, and began to beat their way back toward the mountain.
As their strange shrieking noise disappeared up the valley, a complete hush fell on the bloody field below. Men froze into statues, weapons still raised but mouths agape and eyes bulging.
The only sound now was the groaning of the wounded, and it was this that snapped Jessa back to consciousness. She searched out Locheil’s eyes. He was searching out hers at the same time. Neither of them was hurt.
There should be commands, but nothing came. The horses still on their feet milled in a group to one side, their reins held by pages but no one on their backs. At the same moment Jessa and Locheil laid down their arms and began to tend to the wounded men around them. Others saw and joined them. Jessa straightened and looked around. Behind the main scene of battle, along the edge of the clearing, there was a clean grassy area sheltered by a few tall trees. “Tell them to sort living from dead and take the wounded over there, where we can tend them,” Jessa whispered to Locheil. He rose, looked where she was pointing, and lifted his voice to repeat what she had said. His commanding tone was instantly obeyed.
Chapter 133: Maida
By the time Maida ran out through the big reception room doors, the air was filled with high-pitched screams. The Dragons streamed up the valley toward her and circled in a milling mass above her head. She was about to leap from the flagstone ledge in front of the door and tumble down the mountainside as best she could, when a glittering blue back and beating wings emerged from the trees below her, Alethilion. Around him flittered his smaller Blue likeness. Roxtrianatrix shrieked unceasingly, a higher-pitched sound than the Great Dragons all around him.
As Alethiliion rose to Maida’s level, she could see that he cradled Liandra in his front claws. “Here. Bring her here,” Maida shouted, but her voice disappeared into their keeing. Alethilion flew past her and entered the Dragon cave.
Maida ran through the Reception Room to its balcony. Alethilion had landed just below and beside her, on the ledge in front of the Sacred Marriage Cave. “No,” thought Maida. “The supplies to care for her are up here.”
She ran back into the Reception Room and down the passage to the Cave, thinking to grab a torch as she went. The Cave was filled with the voices and scraping belly-scales of many Dragons. She immediately noticed that their screaming had found some sort of weird harmony. They were singing.
She ran to light two or three torches and stuck the one she had into a bracket. She turned in time to see Alethilion lay Liandra gently on the altar. As she ran toward her lover, there was no missing the odd angle of Liandra’s head as it lolled to the side.
Still disbelieving, Maida stroked the battered side of Liandra’s face with one hand while placing the other on the pulse in her neck. There was nothing. Roxtrianatrix had landed on the other side of the altar and watched her intently. She moved her fingers to Liandra’s wrist, which was clearly broken. Nothing again.
With the strange dirge of the Dragons all around her, Maida threw back her head and wailed. Roxtrianatrix joined her. Out of breath, she fell forward on to Liandra’s still chest and sobbed, clutching her lover’s broken hand. She felt scales against her shoulder. Roxtrianatrix had fallen across Liandra too, his head nestled against Maida’s arm.
Maida, Alethilion and Roxtrianatrix grieved through the night, surrounded by an ever-changing chorus of huge attendants moving into the cave, joining the song and, after awhile, leaving to be replaced by others. Glenardinaliat was with them much of the time.
At one point Maida became aware that Roxtrianatrix was pushing something into the hand that hung by her side, the one not clutching Liandra’s. She looked down to find the Blue cape from the closet in the room with the bathing tub. There was no doubt what he wanted her to do with it. She arranged it over Liandra’s body, tucked neatly at her chin. Bruised as it was, she couldn’t bear to cover the Princess’s face. Roxtrianatrix again rested his scaly head on Liandra’s chest, his eyes closed, and Maida went back to kneeling beside the altar, alternately moaning and sobbing.
When the first glow of sunrise lightened the darkness of the Dragon cave, Glenardinaliat touched Maida lightly with his vast muzzle. She could feel his warm breath on the back of her neck and it made her shiver. He left the Sacred Marriage Cave. In a few minutes, Maida could hear the rustle of many wings, swirling in the Dragon Cave, then disappearing out into the open air.
Chapter 134: Jessa
The army was ready for the Dragons’ return in the morning. They had not known what to expect, but prepared for renewed attack. Word of the death of their young King had spread quickly. Torrie’s body lay under its shield and cloak in a place of honour in the forest just behind the clearing. The other dead soldiers, row upon row of them, lay around him, likewise covered with whatever pieces of their armour and cloaks could be found. At the edge of the clearing on the other side lay the wounded, protected by a row of large trees. Jessa was exhausted from tending them through the night, as had many others.
The next of Liandra’s brothers, Eldrin, was now in command, with her youngest brother, Farrell, by his side. Their officers were arrayed around them, mounted on the few remaining horses, their much smaller army in rows behind them, weapons ready. Jessa stood behind Locheil once again, holding his spears while he nocked an arrow and lifted it toward the glittering hoard above them. She had remembered to fold a rag into her helmet this morning, but it still did not feel very firm on her head.
The Dragons descended, arrows were replaced by spears and they were engaged in battle once again. Surrounded by shrieks and clashes, her feet mired in blood from both yesterday and today, Jessa flocussed on one thing, Locheil’s hand, reaching behind him for another spear, and another, and another.
Before she could hand the third spear to him, the front edge of a vast bronze wing knocked them both off their feet. Jessa landed on her side, a steely claw dug into the bloody ground inches in front of her face. She saw the claw next to it piercing Locheil’s shoulder. He screamed in pain. She twisted to look upward just as the bronze Dragon twisted to look down, focused on Locheil.
Jessa scrambled to her feet and her fear fled, leaving her mind cold and clear. Her helmet tumbled from her head as she rose. She dropped all but one of the spears and stood, her short blond hair blowing around her face, the spear drawn back over her shoulder as she had seen the men do. She looked up, searching for the Dragon’s eye.
The Dragon had raised its wings to lift off from the ground, Locheil now firmly grasped in its claws, but it stopped and stared at Jessa, it’s eyes whirling in circles. It brought its wings downward just as Jessa threw t
he spear, but it released Locheil and dropped him at her feet. The spear clattered off of the scales on its leg. She picked up another from the ground and held it poised, but the bronze Dragon was now out of range. It did not leave, however, but circled, its eyes fixed on Jessa. Then, one by one, the other Dragons disengaged from the field and circled with it, just out of range, all looking down at Jessa.
Shortly, the bronze Dragon paused to hover and Jessa saw a blue flash over its shoulder. A moment later Liandra’s Little Dragon hovered just under the bronze Dragon’s head, looking down at her.
“Roxtrianatrix!” Jessa shouted and lowered her spear. He made a chittering sound. Jessa became aware that silence had fallen once more upon this battlefield. She shouted his name again. “Roxtrianatrix!”
The Little Dragon floated downward, in range now, but not a weapon was raised. Every eye was fixed on this creature of story and legend. Roxtrianatrix peered into Jessa’s face and made that chittering noise again. A shadow slipped over both of them and a huge golden Dragon, surely the largest of any here, circled above the bronze Dragon.
Roxtrianatrix landed lightly in front of Jessa. She held out her hand to him. He laid his head in her palm and looked up at her. Inexplicably, his touch filled her with deep sadness.
It seemed a long, long time that they stood like that, dirty, bloodied page and brilliant blue Little Dragon, surrounded by silent men, a host of Dragons circling above them. Eventually, Roxtrianatrix rose into the air again and departed toward the mountain, the huge golden Dragon just behind. Every one of the Dragons followed them.
The spell broken, Jessa looked around her. A man next to her dropped to his knees and laid his spear at her feet. Another followed suit. Another, and another. Farther away from her, where they could not lay their weapons at her feet, they laid them on the ground in front of their knees. Jessa could not take in the meaning of what they did. Her thoughts were all now with Locheil. He lay beside her, his good hand clutching his bleeding shoulder, eyes closed. “My love,” she said, and tore her cloak from her shoulders to wrap his wound. He opened his eyes but seemed to have trouble focusing them on her. “Liandra,” he whispered, reaching for her with the bloodied hand that had been holding his wounded shoulder. “My love.”
There were clanking armoured footsteps beside her. She looked up to see the kneeling men sidle out of the way as Eldrin and Farrell arrived at her side. Both looked down at her in complete shock. “Liandra?” Eldrin said.
Chapter 135: Maida
The faint light in the Dragon Cave had come and gone, but Maida lost track of how many times. The torches in the Sacred Marriage Cave had long since burned out. During the night she simply sat in the darkness, grieving beside her lover. Alethilion was there constantly. The others came and went, even Roxtrianatrix. The singing had faded out.
When the light entered the Dragon Cave once more, the Dragon’s voices rose again in that weird harmony that must be their music. The Sacred Marriage Cave began to fill with reptilian bodies. Roxtrianatrix stood on the other side of Liandra’s body where it lay on the altar, her face covered now. Maida had done this when the bruises and what was obviously a crushed cheekbone began to torment her.
Now Alethilion approached the altar. He gently lifted Liandra into his claws once more and turned to go. “No,” Maida objected. “Where are you taking her?”
It was as if she hadn’t spoken. With Alethilion bearing Liandra’s body in the lead, Roxtrianatrix beside them, the Dragons filed out of the mountain into the open sky.
Maida ran back through the passageway and the Reception Room, arriving on the ledge in time to see the singing procession winging its way around the shoulder of the mountain, heading north.
They came back later in the day. Maida had retreated to the kitchen to find something to eat and drink and felt slightly better for it. When she heard them coming into the Dragon Cave, she ran back down to the Sacred Marriage altar and lit a torch, but none of the Dragons entered. Only Roxtrianatrix came to her and laid his head in her lap, sighed and closed his eyes.
As the light began to fade again in the Dragon Cave outside, there was the sound of a great weight landing on the ledge in front of the Sacred Marriage Cave and then the rustle of belly scales scraping on the stone floor. Maida looked up to see the cave filling with the golden bulk of Glenardinaliat. His vast head lowered in front of her, his slowly whirling opal eyes upon her. Roxtrianatrix lifted his head and looked at the Lead Dragon, then rose and sat to one side of Maida, his eyes upon her as well.
Maida became aware of her body, aching everywhere, echoing her sore heart. With effort, she tore her eyes from the steady gaze of the gigantic creature before her and lowered them, studying her own hands lying curled in her lap. They were strong, dark hands, she thought, and between their work-hardened palms, they held the future of two peoples, or perhaps three peoples. Somewhere on the long road of this adventure, she had begun to think of the Dragons as a people too.
Interlude: Alethilion’s Lament
Weep with me, Dragons
Tear out my heart and offer it
Bleeding
To the sun
Grieve with me, Dragons
Tear the cry from my throat and offer it
Wailing
To the wind
My beloved lies limp in my hands
Spirit gone
She flew without wings
And went down
Down, down
Spiraling down
The hope she brought with her
Of Keepers return
Broken on the stone
Of the mountain
The son she bore me
Left alone
Between her kind and mine
Fly eastward, Dragons
Bring me perfect stones
From the sea
To build her cairn
I carry her
To the ceiling of earth
To lie among our ancient ones
And hers.
Weep with me, Dragons
Tear out my heart and offer it
Bleeding
To the Sun
Grieve with me, Dragons
Tear the cry from my throat and offer it
Wailing
To the Wind
Chapter 136: Jessa
Jessa found herself in charge. Wherever she went, men fell back from her path, bowed to her. She caught the words “Dragon Priestess” whispered at every turn. “I’m not a Dragon Priestess,” she confided quietly to Eldrin, as he bent down to examine Locheil.
He frowned at her. “Then what?” he said. “Liandra, we all just witnessed that Little Dragon, the first seen in generations, lay his head in your hand.”
“But that’s …” She stopped herself. She could hardly say, “That’s Liandra’s Little Dragon. She is the Dragon Priestess.” In fact, there was nothing she could say.
Eldrin scanned the sky. “Do you think they’ll come back?”
She considered this. Her hands still tingled from touching those brilliant blue scales. Roxtrianatrix had, for some strange reason, knelt before her. There had been sadness in his gesture, and also some kind of bond, or promise. She didn’t think the Dragons would come back, or at least, not to kill them. She went with her intuition. “I don’t think so,” she said to Eldrin.
The young man sat back on his heels. “You’ll have to help me,” he said. “I was Heir and now my brother is dead. I’m officially in command, but the one they will truly listen to is you.”
“Me? But, Locheil …” she said, looking down at her husband’s pale face.
“He needs to be over there,” Eldrin gestured toward the grassy area among the trees behind them, “In the temporary infirmary we set up yesterday, where we can care for him. All the others as well. Liandra, please help me.”
She looked around her. Injured men groaned and cried out from where they lay among the dead. Their companions were already pulling them out of the tangle, ca
rrying them or helping them hobble toward the infirmary. “Yes,” she said to Eldrin. “You’re right.” She squeezed Locheil’s unresponsive hand. “I’ll return to you, my love, as soon as I can.”
She and Eldrin spent the rest of the day together, making decisions which were then relayed to the remaining commanders by Farrell. By late afternoon, the wounded were laid out in rows among the trees, expanding the infirmary to three times the size it had been the night before. Pages and fighting men who had escaped serious injury tended to them as best they could. In her time serving the Lady Merrit and during her brief visit to Liandra in the cabin of the old Earth People Healer in the Eastlands, Jessa had learned about the almost mythical skills of the Earth People Healers. “Do you suppose there are Earth People Healers anywhere near here?” she asked Eldrin.
“What is that?” he creased his brow.
“You know, witch healers.”
Eldrin’s brows rose and he made the sign of the Warrior God’s Sword in the air. “What would we want with them?”
Jessa sighed. “I heard they can work miracles with ordinary injuries, but especially with Dragon wounds.”
“Really? Well, you’re the Dragon Priestess. You should know. But I have no idea how or where we would find one of those.” Despite his words, he made the Sword sign again.
Men had been dispatched to the army’s camp farther down the valley to fetch the remaining tents, pack animals, food and supplies. Firewood was collected, food was cooked, and a camp sprouted up on the meadow grasses behind the battlefield.
The dead were taken to join the ranks of the fallen lying in rows around the rough beir where Torrie’s torn body lay under his shield, wrapped in his bloody cloak. Knots of comrades said prayers over a dead man here or there. Many stopped going in or out of the Field of Honour, as they called it, to bow their heads before their dead King. Eldrin and Jessa paused there too, Eldrin for a long, quiet time. Jessa glanced at him at one point, quickly, but long enough to see the splash of tears on what was left of his tabard. She found herself feeling only anger toward Torrie, dead or not.