Dragonmaster (10 page)

A
s Norl spoke, a low rumble began deep in the mountain upon which they stood. The earth beneath their feet shook and, before they could make sense of what was happening, the rock cracked with a force that convulsed the air around them. Norl watched, horrified, as Sele the Plump plummeted into the chasm and disappeared from sight.

“Norl! Beware!”

Lorgan’s shout made Norl look up. Flowing down toward them from the mountain’s crest was a wave of black. Tendrils of mist rose from its surface. Seeking. Searching. Bushes sank beneath its relentless approach, rocks hissed and smoked. Norl stared, unable to believe what he was seeing, until another shout from the dragon shocked him back into his senses.

“We must fly!” Lorgan cried.

“But the Sele…”

“It is gone. We must save ourselves. Now! Quickly!” Lorgan unfolded his wings and streaked skyward.

The wave was almost upon him. Norl could smell a burning, sulphurous stink—far worse than any dragon stench, and then the amorphous, ever-changing tendrils of mist seemed to discover him. With one accord they shifted and reached out for him.

He took a last, agonized look at the abyss into which Sele the Plump had fallen. Nothing. No sign of the Sele. No sound. The black wave flowed over it, into it, filled it. Then the first filament of mist reached him. He could feel a damp, unwholesome wetness on his skin, in his eyes and nose. It was suffocating him!

Fly!

He felt strength flood into his wings, even as the feathers spread out to cover them. He felt his bones become light. The wind ruffled past his head. He turned into it, then, as had Lorgan and Hhana before him, he surged into the air.

He and Lorgan flew side by side. Norl was filled with the horror of the Sele’s disappearance. He could think of nothing else. It was only when he heard Lorgan calling to him that he could wrench his mind back.

Which way, Norl?

He forced himself to sweep the land below and search for landmarks. When he had oriented himself he sent a command back to Lorgan.

Follow me.

Daunus lay in the plain at the foot of the mountain, on the other side of the grasslands that were home to the Sele. As they descended into the valley, Norl felt his wings grow more and more awkward and heavy. It grew harder to maintain his pace.

Norl, there is something wrong!

When Norl turned to look, he saw that Lorgan had fallen far behind. When he looked again toward Daunus, he saw that a dark cloud obscured the land below. It stretched from one end of the valley to the other. They would have to go blindly through it to reach the city.

Norl banked and circled above the darkness. Lorgan followed, but Norl could sense the dragon’s unease.

Down there?
Lorgan asked.
We must go down there?

We must,
Norl answered.
There is no other way.

He circled lower and lower until his wings were dipping into the darkness. As each wing tip touched the cloud, it was as if the cloud were made of some viscous substance that caught and held them. With each beat it grew harder and harder to free himself. What was happening below him in Daunus?

“Dahl!” he cried, but the word was swallowed up in the inky whirlpool that surged between him and the King of Taun.

Above him, Lorgan circled cautiously.

Norl
…he sent,
take care!

But the warning came too late. One beat too many and Norl realized he was trapped. His wings were glued fast to
the swirling darkness. He could not free them. He began to sink into it. The same burning, sulphurous stench that he had smelled on the mountain filled his nostrils, his eyes were blinded…

Then he felt talons rip into his back. With a jerk that almost tore his wings out by the roots, he was freed and lifted high. Lorgan!

He lay in Lorgan’s grasp, unmoving, until the dragon had carried him out of reach of the blackness below. He made an effort to spread his wings, take back control, but the dragon’s talons tightened painfully.

Keep still,
Lorgan ordered soundlessly.
Do not try to fly.

Only then did Norl realize that he was no longer in his eagle form.

Lorgan carried him around the mountain to the far side, then settled him carefully down on an outcropping of rock and landed beside him. Norl lay for a moment, trying to gather strength enough to sit up. It seemed as if every joint in his body was on fire.

“Thank you,” he said, when he was able to speak. “I owe you my life.”

“As do I, you,” Lorgan said, aloud now. “I but repaid my debt.”

Norl looked searchingly at the young dragon. Lorgan’s words had been spoken without expression. There was no way Norl could fathom the emotion behind them, if indeed there was emotion, but it seemed that a dragon could feel gratitude. Lorgan had chosen to stay with Norl rather than
go with Hhana, but he had not explained his choice. Dare Norl hope that it was because of loyalty?

“What was that below us?” Lorgan asked, breaking into Norl’s thoughts.

“I know not,” Norl answered. “But whatever it is, it is evil, and it has Daunus in its thrall.” He choked and could speak no more. The Domain was sealed, Daunus was closed to him. And Sele the Plump was gone. Worries about Lorgan’s trustworthiness seemed pointless. If this was how it was all to end, the dragon would choose the side of evil. Of course he would. And Hhana would surely return with her hatchlings to join Lorgan.

He dropped his head into his hands and let his grief take over.

It had happened so quickly and so unexpectedly that Sele the Plump did not even have time enough to let out a cry. One moment it was standing, making plans with Norl to go to Daunus, the next, it was hurtling down through space. The chasm into which it had fallen was so narrow that the Sele struck first one rock side, then the other. A thick, evil-smelling surge of black water poured down after it and filled its eyes, its nose and its ears. The Sele fought to breathe, but only drew the filth into its mouth. Coughing, sputtering, drowning and battered almost to death, it fell endlessly.

Then the very substance that was suffocating it took hold and began to carry the Sele along with its flow. For a brief moment the Sele broke through to the surface and managed one desperate gasp for air; then it was pulled back under. Down and down the mass went, flowing through a vast underground fissure in the mountain. The Sele could do nothing but allow itself to be carried along, snatching a breath whenever it could, of air thick with a cloying miasma of mist and fog. The passage through which it was being borne now widened to such an extent that it was no longer being buffeted from side to side, but the Sele was in absolute darkness until suddenly, ahead of it, a glimmer of light shone down from a crack far above. By that light the Sele saw that a column of rock cut across the stream’s path. The blackness that swept the Sele along with it diverged to one side of the column. On the other, yawned an empty gulf.

There was no way of knowing what lay within that gulf, no time to make a conscious decision, but anything was better than allowing itself to keep on being prisoner to this evil river. If the walls closed in upon it again, it would surely smother. With a twist of its body, the Sele threw itself toward the column of rock just as it was being whipped past. The Sele hung onto the column for an instant, but the torrent sucked at its feet with relentless fury. With the last of its strength, the Sele managed to pull itself free. It clung to the rock, trying to see what lay beneath it on the other side, but its grasp slipped and it fell yet again, tumbling over and over into the unknown far below.

Norl did not know for how long he sat thus but, gradually, he began to think again. He was alive. As long as he breathed, he could act. He must do
something.
But what?

Then Lorgan’s voice broke through to him.

“Norl!”

Norl raised his head. Above them, even this side of the mountain wore a shroud of black now, and it was moving slowly, inexorably down toward them. The air itself was darkening, becoming hazy. He looked around desperately. The only way free of the encroaching darkness was to the north. The sun shone there, the sky looked pure and clear. But the north was where the evil that had controlled the Usurper and Caulda had abided, where he had suffered so as a boy. He felt sick with terror at the idea of going back there.

No matter. There was no other course.

He turned to Lorgan, raised his head high and willed his voice steady.

“We must go north,” he said. “Whatever is threatening Taun lies in wait there. We will go to it and destroy it.”

“Very well,” Lorgan answered. “How are we to do this?”

The dragon’s calm acceptance restored a small measure of reassurance to Norl. It seemed that Lorgan did not intend to abandon him. Lorgan had no knowledge of what they faced, however. Did he dare put the dragon to
a further test? He pondered for a moment, then came to a decision.

“First,” Norl said, “I must tell you what befell Taun in the past. You will not like all of what I say, but, before we leave this place, you must hear it. You must know it.”

“Tell me, then,” Lorgan said. He folded his wings and settled back onto his haunches.

Norl stared at him. The dragon’s eyes were hooded, but deep within, fire simmered.

Norl took a deep breath and began.

“You are saying that it was my mother, Caulda, who stole the souls of your people under Launan’s command?” Lorgan heaved himself to his feet and paced from one end of

the outcrop to the other when Norl had finished. The dragon’s tail thrashed from side to side, demolishing bushes and small trees.

Norl prepared himself to run, but there was no place to run to. He could change into eagle form and fly. However, Lorgan could overtake him easily. There was nothing to do but face the dragon.

“Yes,” Norl answered.

Lorgan stopped his pacing and turned his eyes upon Norl. “She was your enemy. The enemy of your people,” he said.

“Yes,” Norl repeated.

“But she chose you to care for me. I wonder why?” He hooded his eyes, then opened them again and fixed Norl with a burning stare. “Why
did
you help me live? Why did you not allow me to starve?”

“I thought about it,” Norl admitted.

Lorgan cocked his massive head. A small spurt of flame shot from his maw and scorched the ground at Norl’s feet. Norl forced himself not to cringe.

“I thought about it,” he repeated. “It was Hhana and the Sele who changed my mind.”

“And without them,” Lorgan said slowly, “if they had not been there, what would have been your own decision?”

Norl hesitated. It would be so easy to tell him he would have made the same decision. So much safer. But he could not bring himself to say the words. Only the truth would do now, no matter what the consequence.

“I probably would have left you to die,” he murmured.

The dragon nodded. “As would I, if I had been in your place,” he confessed. “We did not know each other then.”

“Do we know each other well enough now for trust?” Norl asked.

Lorgan took his time in answering. He seemed to be considering. Then he gave a small nod of his massive head. “I think so,” he said.

Norl let out the deep breath that he had not even realized he had been holding. “So do I,” he responded.

“It would seem that my mother did choose well,” Lorgan said.

“It would seem so,” Norl agreed.

“So,” Lorgan went on briskly, giving himself a shake that rattled his scales, “we go north.”

“We do,” Norl replied, dodging sparks. He looked up the mountainside. The dark wave was drawing ever nearer. “And it had better be now.”

Dahl looked up. He had felt a sudden pull—a tugging as if something or someone high above the dark, suffocating cloud that had descended over Daunus was calling to him. A moment only, and then it was gone. He turned back to his task. His arms ached and the pain in his back was such that he could not straighten up, but the agony in his mind was even greater. With a sigh of despair he set himself to digging again. Yet another hole in the ground. Yet another failure. Daunus was pockmarked with holes by now, but no one had found water. Men and women lay where they had fallen in exhaustion, too far gone even to move. Children lay beside them, wan and pale, dogs panted in the ever-deepening shadows. The man who had worked with him on the last fruitless hole lay unmoving beside it.

“Help me here,” Dahl commanded, but the man paid him no heed. “Help me,” Dahl repeated, forcing a roughness
he could not feel into his voice. Still, the man lay immobile. Anger surged for a moment and Dahl went over to him, driving himself to stride erect. He was still King, this was his subject, sworn to obey him. But even then the man did not move. Only when Dahl reached him did he see that the man was dead. Dahl looked up and the realization sank in that many of the others who lay prostrate were dead as well.

“Coraun,” he called. His adviser looked up from his own fruitless work. “We must bury our dead,” Dahl said.

“How…?” Coraun began. “How can we take time to do that?”

“Find men to help you,” Dahl replied. “Tip the dead into the dry holes.” The words sounded heartless but, truth be told, his heart was numb.

Coraun did not respond. With a dip of his head he went to do Dahl’s bidding.

Dahl bent back to his work.

T
here was little to do in the way of preparation. They had no food, they would have to forage for themselves along the way. Norl quailed at this. The blood lust that was aroused by eating in his eagle form frightened him. Sometimes it overwhelmed him to the point where he almost forgot he was human, not predator. Perhaps he might be able to find a Deliverance tree from time to time, but he had no idea of how long their journey would take.

As if echoing this last thought, Lorgan spoke. “How long will it be before we find what you are searching for?” he asked.

“I do not know,” Norl replied. “Indeed, I do not know even for what we search. All I know is that there is something that wishes to destroy Taun. It is up to me now to do all that is in my power to thwart it.” Brave words, but he had to shield his mind to keep Lorgan from sensing the dread that threatened to undo him. “We must fly high,”
he continued, not allowing his voice to betray him, either, “and try to avoid crossing over villages. If people see you they will be afraid.”

“Why do we not fly by night?” Lorgan asked. “Could we not take our direction from the stars?”

Norl was about to object. His eagle self instinctively rebelled against flying in the darkness, but he reconsidered. It would be more sensible. Then they could find a spot in which to hide in daylight.

“A good idea,” he said. “We will rest now and begin our journey when the moons rise.”

“First I will hunt. I will need food to sustain me for the night,” Lorgan said. “Will you hunt with me?”

Again, Norl’s first thought was to refuse. If he were left on his own for a while he might find another Deliverance tree and he would not need to feed beside the dragon. But again, he reconsidered. If he were to keep the dragon’s loyalty, he could not chance weakening the bond that had formed between them. There was another reason, as well. He had to admit it even if only to himself. In the back of his mind a small, niggling worry lurked: despite their words, did he trust Lorgan enough to leave the dragon alone? Once Lorgan was away from him, might he not yield to the temptation to seek out Hhana and the others? The dragon had told him he could hear the dragon hatchlings calling; for all Norl knew, Lorgan might be communicating with them at this very moment. Their call might be too strong to resist, no matter how good his intentions.

“I will go with you,” he said, fighting down his disgust. “We will find game together.” Effortlessly now, he took on his eagle form. Then, in spite of himself, as he shook out his wings and spread them wide, he felt the anticipation of the hunt thrill through his veins.

“Come,” he commanded, and let the wind lift him into the air.

When they finally set off in the shadows of the rising moons, both were rested and had fed well. Norl oriented himself with the bright star that he knew lay in the north, and took the lead. Lorgan followed close behind. Norl could hear the thrum of the dragon’s wings, so much mightier than his own. He could feel dragon breath warm on his back. For a moment he allowed himself to relax—to revel in the sheer pleasure of flight. The stars beckoned to him. He could almost forget the urgency of his task in the delight of answering their call. They sang to him, cold and irresistible.

Far to the west of the mountain where they had found Lorgan’s cave, Hhana searched. She had no way of knowing where to
begin, but something seemed to be calling her in that direction. Focused—obsessed even—by the need to discover the young dragons, she was unaware of the growing darkness that gathered behind her.

For a while she thought of nothing else but the glory of her strength. She allowed herself to luxuriate in every small movement. Never could she have imagined feeling such freedom. She could hardly remember her young years in the village where Norl had found her. A stray memory of the woman, Gudruna, who had so mistreated her, passed through her mind but she dismissed it without further thought. The enmity of the other villagers, the attack by the innkeeper that had upset her so—how completely inconsequential they seemed now. Indeed, how inconsequential all humans seemed. Except, perhaps, Norl. But even he was limited. Dragons were so much more.

Hard upon that thought came another—what if I stayed in this form? Be dragon forever? It was a tempting concept. Delicious. But even more delicious was the idea that she could choose.

I am dragonling! she exulted. The last of my kind. For just a second, a suspicion of loneliness threatened to sneak into her mind, but she thrust it quickly away before she had to face it.

I am dragonling! Human when I wish, dragon when I wish. And if I am the last of my kind, then there is no other creature in this land with such power. The knowledge was intoxicating. What, then, should she do when she found the young dragons? Norl had bade her take them to him, but what if she chose not to? Norl could not force her. He had no control over her. Why should she obey
him? As a dragonling, with her own band of dragons, what could she not do? There was no one who would be able to deny her anything. No one at all. She let herself sink into the thought.

But first she must find her dragons.

She flew on and sent her mind searching ahead of her. In the beginning she could hear nothing but the sighing of the wind in her close-set, scale-covered ears, but gradually another sound began to birth within her mind. Wordless, it was more of a keening. She hooded her eyes for a moment in order to concentrate. In the red haze of her mind the sound seemed to come from straight ahead. She opened her eyes again. In front of her now she could see a shoreline. Waves crashed upon rocks and threw white spume far up the sides of steep cliffs. A fog rolled in from the sea even as she watched and marvelled at the sight. She had known nothing of water—of oceans such as this. Then, looming just for an instant far out beyond the land’s edge, she caught a glimpse of a towering mountain.

There! The voice that was calling to her came from deep within its tree-shrouded slopes. She fixed the site in her mind as the fog closed in completely and enveloped her in its moist coolness. She did not need sight now; the voice guided her as surely as any beacon.

As Norl and Lorgan made their way north, they could almost believe they had imagined the evil that lay behind
them. The sun shone each day. Birds sang, the wind whispered in the trees as if the land had never known anything but peace. And, as they flew and hunted together, and talked away the long hours of the days, the tenuous bond between them strengthened and grew.

Norl could not understand the tranquility of the land, however. The north had been the home and the source of the evil. The people had walked in fear and the villages had been devastated, but from what he could see, now all seemed normal. Fields were plowed, smoke trailed up from cottages and women gathered around village wells. Just so must his mother be living. Free from worry, falsely certain that the danger was over. Finally, he could stand it no longer.

“I must go into a town and find out what is happening,” he said to Lorgan as they bedded down for the day.

Lorgan looked at him. Norl had come to know the dragon well enough to realize that a smile lurked behind the mask of his expressionless face.

“So you trust me sufficiently now to leave me on my own?” Lorgan asked.

Norl flushed. It seemed that Lorgan had come to know him equally well.

“I do,” he replied, and answered Lorgan’s unseen smile with one of his own.

“Go, then,” Lorgan said with a yawn that sent a lick of flame a little too close to Norl for comfort. “I, too, am curious about what is going on with your world.”

Norl kept himself from jumping back just in time. Bond there might be between himself and the dragon, but Lorgan was testing him, he knew it with certainty. It would not do to show fear or weakness.

Norl left the dragon well concealed in a cave dug deep into a hillock and set his feet on a path to the nearest town. As he neared the town, his steps grew longer and in spite of himself he felt his heart lifting with eagerness. How long had it been since he had talked with his own kind? He found an inn on the edge of the town and pushed the door open to a welter of noise, smoke and talk. A fire burned in the hearth and the smell of boiling meat filled his nostrils. His mouth began to water. He found a place for himself at the end of a table full of men who laughed and joked amongst themselves as if they hadn’t a care in the world. A young boy wearing a soiled apron tied over his breeches came to take his order.

“I have no coins with which to pay you,” Norl said, “but if you will bring me a bowl of that stew which is driving my belly wild with hunger, and a mug of ale, I will help with the washing up in the kitchen in payment.”

“I’ll ask,” the boy answered, and disappeared into the kitchen. He was back in a few minutes. “Me da says if you eat fast and then come to help you can have the food,” he said.

“Gladly,” Norl agreed. He turned his ear, then, to the conversation at the table while he waited for the boy to bring his victuals. He heard nothing out of the ordinary,
only the chatter of men relaxing after a long day’s work.

“So things go well in this village, do they?” Norl asked the man beside him.

“Better than ever,” the man replied. “Our fields are heavy with grain this year and the harvest will be plentiful. Life could not be finer.”

Norl fell silent. He slurped the stew the boy brought him and wiped the last bits out of the bowl with a heel of coarse bread. The ale slipped sweetly down his throat. A memory of feasting beside Lorgan tried to force its way into his mind, but he blocked it out quickly. Tonight he was human and only human.

Gradually, the atmosphere of warmth and casual friendliness began to lull him into a state of sleepy contentment. He stretched out his legs after he finished his stew, and savoured the last of his drink. It was so tempting to sink into this peace and forget that there might be anything wrong anywhere else. Indeed, it seemed impossible that there could be, but then the memory of the Sele’s disappearance thrust itself into his mind and his false sense of peace fled. Instinctively, he looked out the narrow opening that served as a window to make certain the stars were still shining and no encroaching blackness had snuffed them out. The food he had eaten so ravenously turned sour in his stomach.

The boy returned to snatch up his bowl and mug.

“You’re wanted, then, by my da,” he said.

Norl rose to his feet and followed the boy to the
kitchen, where he was set to work at rinsing out mugs. A small orange cat stalked into the room. Norl almost dropped the mug he was washing. It came over to Norl. He held his breath. The cat batted at a stray bit of bread on the floor, rolled over twice, then pounced on Norl’s bootlace. It began to purr and wind itself around his feet. The impossible hope that had leaped briefly within Norl’s breast died.

Not Catryn. Most definitely not. Catryn would never be that undignified.

When he had washed the last mug and wiped the last table to the innkeeper’s satisfaction, he made his way back to Lorgan, deep in thought. Why this land had been spared was but one more mystery.

“Did you find out anything?” Lorgan asked.

“No,” Norl answered. “It all seems so normal…” The sound of laughter suddenly caused him to whirl back around. Had someone followed him? But the laughter was not coming from behind him. Confused, he looked past Lorgan, deeper into the cave. There was no one there, either. The laughter grew louder. Mocking, sneering laughter. Norl twisted from side to side, desperate to find the source.

“What is it?” Lorgan asked.

“Do you not hear it?” Norl replied. The laughter was so loud now that it reverberated and rang in his head. He pressed a hand to his forehead.

“Hear what?” Lorgan asked again.

“Laughter…Someone…” But as quickly as it had started, the laughter ceased. All that was left was a taunting echo of evil.