Blood of Dragons (64 page)

Thymara corked the water-skin. ‘Let's follow that cleft up to the cliffs. I want to look at them and see how hard they'd be to climb.'

Tats stood staring upward. Kalo's deep frustrated roars were answering Tintaglia's clear trumpeting. ‘Don't you want to watch?' he teased her.

‘Thank you, but half a dozen times was enough. Can't they be done with it for the day?'

‘I think they're enjoying it. Wait. What's that?'

Something had caught his attention in a different quadrant of the sky. Thymara strained her eyes. ‘Sintara. But what's she doing?'

The younger blue queen was moving faster than Thymara had ever seen her fly. Arrow straight she flew. Then as golden Mercor crested the ridge behind them, Thymara heard Sintara utter the same challenging trumpet that she had first heard from Tintaglia. Scarlet Baliper and orange Dortean suddenly rose from the forested hillside. ‘Oh, this should be good,' Tats exclaimed and sat down. He flopped back in the meadow grass and stared at the rivals as they closed in on Sintara. ‘Baliper might have a chance against Mercor,' he speculated. ‘They're about of a size, but I think Mercor is cleverer. Dortean? I don't think so.'

As if the dragons had heard him, Mercor suddenly looped in his flight and turned on the hapless Dortean. The orange male fled but could not evade the golden. Mercor chased him as he fled, and as Dortean neared the ground, Mercor dived on him. Dortean no longer had the altitude for evasion. He crashed into the trees, sending a large flock of starlings into mad flight. Mercor narrowly avoided following his rival into arboreal disaster. Wings beating strongly, he pulled up just above the treetops and skimmed over them. The branches waved wildly in his wake.

Baliper had made good use of the distraction. The red dragon battered his way skyward, while Sintara continued to mock him. Mercor roared a challenge at him, but Baliper did not waste his breath in a response and continued to gain on Sintara. Her mockery changed to an angry cry. She flew at him, they clashed in midair, and Baliper fell away in a dazed spiral. In a dozen wing-beats they had both recovered, but he had lost more altitude than she had. He was focused completely on his pursuit of her when Mercor struck him from behind.

Baliper writhed back, flipping to face the golden, and the males gripped, talons to talons. Wings beating wildly, front talons clenched and roaring at one another, they were falling through the sky as they tore at each other with their clawed hind feet. Sintara, silent now, circled above them, watching her suitors fight. Far above her, the silhouettes of Tintaglia and Kalo had merged.

‘They're falling, falling … break it up, fellows, or you'll both die!' Tats cried out in awe.

But Baliper and Mercor did not separate, not for another two breaths. Then with an infuriated scream, Mercor abruptly tore himself free of the scarlet dragon. Wings beating wildly, he careened off. Baliper managed to flip over, and then to veer away from the trees that had awaited him. He landed badly in a meadow, rolling and bending a wing before crashing to a halt. Thymara stared at him, sick with dread, until she saw him lift his head, stand, and then shake his wings back into position. As if aware of her gaze, he gave a final angry trumpet before stalking off into the shelter of the woods.

‘He's nearly caught her!' Tats exclaimed admiringly.

Thymara turned her eyes skyward. Sintara seemed to be making a very genuine attempt to escape Mercor. She looped back once, slashed at him with an angry scream, and then tried to resume her climb. It was useless. The tempo of Mercor's golden wings increased and his speed with it. Suddenly, the golden dragon overshadowed the blue. His head snaked in to seize the back of her neck in his teeth.

‘He's got her.' Tats sounded very satisfied. He rolled his head to grin at Thymara and then continued to watch the mating dragons.

Thymara made a disgusted exclamation and gave him a strong push. He turned to her, grinning, and before she could draw her hand back, he seized her wrist. He tried to pull her to him, but she jerked free of him, turned and ran. Her heart was beating wildly. ‘Thymara!' Tats shouted and ‘No!' she called over her shoulder.

She ran, but the sudden thunder of his footfalls was close behind her. She felt him catch at the trailing edge of her wing. She snatched it from his grip, felt a sudden lift from her spread wings, and closed them on the down-beat. Behind her, Tats gave a wordless startled cry.

‘The ravine!' he shouted, and she saw it wide before her. It gaped, a steep-sided crack in the hillside, possibly a scar of the same quake that had levelled parts of Kelsingra. She started to slow, to turn to elude him, but he was too close behind her. ‘Don't be stupid!' he shouted, but it wasn't, she decided, it wasn't stupid at all.

She snapped her wings open, managed two down-beats that nearly lifted her off her feet and then she leapt. For a dizzying moment, there was nothing under her feet save the sudden drop-off. In the ravine far below her, she glimpsed a narrow, rushing stream cutting its way toward the river. Three more beats of her wings lifted her and then, as she lost focus and altitude in amazement at what she had done, the meadow on the other side seemed to reach up for her. She landed running, caught herself, skidded to a halt on her knees and then turned. ‘Tats! I flew! I really flew, it wasn't just a jump. I flew!'

Tats had halted on the other side of the cleft in the earth. He was staring at her, a very strange expression on his face. Abruptly, he turned away. He walked off and then, putting his head down and pumping his arms, he ran from her.

She watched him go. Her heart that had been beating so wildly with joy and excitement now seemed to pump coldness through her body. Too strange. She was too strange for him. She glanced down at the black claws on her hands that had set her apart since the day she was born. She had always been too strange, too Changed by the Rain Wilds. The wings and the flight had been too much even for loyal Tats. Tears stung her eyes as she watched him go.

A shrill keening turned her eyes upward. Yes. Mercor had caught Sintara. Joined, they circled high above her. She shook her head, tried to clear it of the dragon's heat that she had experienced so clearly. Time to be practical. Her bow. Had she dropped her bow in her wild flight from Tats? Where? On the other side?

She looked back the way she had come and saw Tats coming at her. He had gone up the hill slightly and now was running back down it in silence. His teeth were gritted in determination. ‘The gully!' She shrieked the warning at him, but it was too late. In two strides he reached it and flung himself forward in a wild leap.

He couldn't possibly make it.

But he did.

He hit on his feet, tucked his head down, rolled in a wild somersault and came up on his feet again. His impetus carried him forward and he crashed into her. But as his arms wrapped around her and he carried her to the ground with him, she knew it was no accident. ‘Caught you,' he said.

The impact had driven the breath from her body. She gasped in air and, ‘Yes
,' she answered. ‘You have. At last.' She saw his eyes widen. Then, as she took a deeper breath, his mouth covered hers. She closed her eyes, feeling his weight on her, smelling him, pulling him closer. The sun was above them, warming the whole world, and the only sound she heard was the joyous trumpeting of dragons.

Tintaglia awoke in mid-morning. She lifted her head and looked at the sun. Then she rose and stretched and limbered her wings. The same restlessness that had afflicted her for the last ten days filled her again. It grew stronger as the sun rose higher.

She had chosen to sleep high on a rocky ridge on the cliffs behind Kelsingra after her morning kill. She had felt an urgency when she had first awakened, but dismissed it as only hunger. But now, fed, rested and awake, heritage memories were stirring in her. She studied the sun's position in the sky. Yes.

She smelled him in the waft of his wings on the wind. She turned to watch Kalo circling slowly down to alight beside her. The blue-black drake had grown since she had first encountered him and would continue to grow for all the days of his life. He took two steps toward her and extended his neck, snuffling the air around her.
Today.
He offered the word and waited for her.

Today
, she confirmed. It was time.

IceFyre swept past them. He knew better than to attempt to land near her. Kalo had established that with him in several bloody battles. But the old dragon was within his rights and knew it. ‘Today!' he trumpeted the word as he overshadowed them briefly.

Downhill of them she saw other dragons lift their heads from where they had been dozing on the rocky cliffs. Far below them, in the city, she knew that the keepers would be pausing in their coming and going, stopping their ant-hill lives to stare up in wonder.

Kalo stared at her, his eyes spinning possessively.
Who flies with you?
he demanded.

What sort of a drake asks that of a queen?
IceFyre mocked him as he swept past again.
I am sire of this first generation. To me is what is mine. I travel with her, to the nesting beaches, to watch over the digging of the nest and keep the Others at bay. Have you no memories of this and the proper way of doing things?

Tintaglia considered. She eyed the ragged black dragon as he swept past once more. Kalo had stretched himself tall and partly opened his wings.
I have memories
, he replied sullenly.
I have memories of a time when there would have been a dozen queens on the island, and drakes doing battle for the best nesting sites. Those days are gone. We begin a new time. Perhaps we begin with new ways.

And Kalo will accompany us
,
she decided.
He is young and strong. I will have him fly with me as well
.

That is NOT how it is done!
IceFyre was outraged.
You have no memories at all! Only the sire goes with the queen to the nesting beach to guard her. Other drakes are not to be trusted. He will destroy the nest and trample the eggs.

Kalo stretched his neck and opened his wings wide. He was still not as large as IceFyre, but his wings were unrent, his muscles full and limber. The deep midnight blue of his scaling was now spangled with tiny silver stars. He snapped his wings once and toxins welled to each clawed tip.
Do you challenge me for this, old dragon?
He swung his gaze to Tintaglia.
I will not destroy the nest. There are too few dragons in the world. What do I care if the first clutch you lay are his get? The clutches to follow will be mine, and my offspring will need mates.

You think like humans!
IceFyre issued his proclamation in disgust.
Were the clutch not mine, I would not care. But I warn you now, youngster. Disturb the nest and the fight will be to the death.

Tintaglia snorted disdainfully.
Any male that disturbs my nest will die! No queen needs a drake to make that so.

‘Today, then!' Kalo trumpeted it loudly to all, dragons and Elderlings alike.
I leave now. You had best follow soon, for otherwise I doubt you will recall the way.

I know the way
, she responded angrily.

Go, then.
Kalo dismissed IceFyre.
You should probably fly swiftly, for soon we both will overtake you.

IceFyre roared a wordless insult at Kalo, then banked his wings and swept away. She watched him go, saw him diminish in the distance. He was a dragon from another time, she decided. It was good that her first generation of young would inherit his memories. It would be even better if they were wise enough to adapt to a world in which there were less than twenty mature dragons. She wondered how many eggs she would lay, how many would hatch, how many would survive their time in the sea as serpents, and if those serpents would have to be guided home to the cocooning grounds, as Maulkin's tangle had. Then she snorted the thought away. In one way, at least, IceFyre was right. She had acquired many human ways of thinking. Why worry about a tangle that was not even hatched yet, let alone serpents that must grow for years before returning to the Rain Wild River?

She looked down on Kelsingra. ‘Today!' She trumpeted the announcement loudly. And then she waited. IceFyre might be correct that she did not have all her memories, but she had some. Some traditions must be observed. What was the delay?

In the city below her, a slender form emerged onto the tower parapet. He was robed in silver and deepest blue, and Selden lifted his voice to the sky, in praise of the day. The ancient words shivered in her blood, standing up her crest and the ruff on her neck.

‘Today, today, the Queen goes forth today! Her belly is rich with eggs, she carries inside her the generation to come. Today, today, the Queen leaves us today! Sing, sing, all, sing her praise, and wish her good fortune on her flight!'

He paused. She listened. Voices were lifted – humans, and then dragons joining in and drowning them out. ‘Today! Today! Tomorrow begins today!'

She and Kalo basked in the roar of sound. She lifted her wings wide to them, wove her head on her long neck to accept her adulation. The cacophony died away. It was over. Now she would fly.

But suddenly Selden's voice rose again, in praise of her alone. She set her eyes on him, listening in pleasure. ‘The Queen rises, the blue Empress, Tintaglia, she of the wide wings touched with Silver, she who led the serpents to Cassarick, she who fed the first of the new generation! Eldest of our queens and wisest, bravest, always cleverest! Wide-winged Tintaglia goes to the nesting ground!'

As she watched, other Elderlings emerged onto the tower top. Reyn. Malta. She held aloft the child Tintaglia had saved, and they joined their voices to Selden's. ‘Today! Today! Today!' Malta lifted Ephron high on each word, and the baby's newly found laughter rose to Tintaglia.