Dragonmaster (7 page)

“
T
hink, Sele, think!” Hhana glared at the Sele, who glared back at her. “You must know something about where the opening to the dragon’s lair is. Surely your beloved Catryn must have told you that!”

“I do not,” Sele the Plump replied. “We were counting on Norl to show me the way.”

Hhana whirled away from the Sele and began pacing back and forth. She had been doing that ever since Caulda had taken Norl.

“That is not helping things,” Sele the Plump said, its voice uncommonly agitated.

Hhana spun back. For a moment it looked as if she would lay hands on the Sele and shake it. In her anger she seemed to grow larger again. Her human outline wavered, the dragonspirit within her shone through, only thinly veiled. The force of her wrath hit the Sele like a blow. The Sele quailed.

What a coward I have become, it thought desolately. I failed to help Norl and now this dragonling has the power to frighten me.

“You did nothing to save Norl,” Hhana spat. “You feared the fire.”

Sele the Plump took courage. It drew itself up as tall as it could and forced itself to face her. “You are right,” it said. “But you did not do anything either.”

“I was not afraid!”

“No, you weren’t,” the Sele said, its brow furrowed with a new thought. “You were not afraid at all. You seemed more entranced than fearful.”

“What are you suggesting?” Hhana hissed, and with that sibilant sound came a whiff of scorching. “What are you accusing me of?”

In spite of itself, the Sele drew back again. It could hardly see Hhana at all now. In her fury she had succumbed almost completely to the beast within her. Her eyes grew huge, her face elongated, she towered over the Sele, scales gleaming in the sunlight, talons flashing cruelly.

And then, in another moment, the vision faded and Hhana the maid stood before Sele the Plump, frightened and confused.

“I’m sorry,” she cried. “Forgive me. I did not mean to do that. I do not even know how I did it.” She held out a hand to the Sele, but it could not bring itself to take it. Talons still shone long and sharp on each fingertip.

Her hands dropped. She stared at them helplessly, then raised her eyes again to the Sele.

“I cannot control the changing, Sele,” she said. “I cannot help myself.” Her voice rose. “I cannot control what is happening to me. I want to help Norl…He has been good to me. But…” She
looked up to the sky where Caulda had disappeared. “She was so beautiful, Sele! So powerful!”

Norl pressed himself closer to the cave wall. The stink of Caulda’s carcass was smothering. He could barely breathe. He had put her body between him and the dragon child and wedged himself so far in that he could no longer see it, but he could hear the scrape of its claws along the floor as it advanced toward him. He waited, every muscle tensed, but the sound stopped. He held his breath—silence. Finally, unable to hold back any longer, he dared to creep out far enough so that he could sneak a glance past Caulda’s head, then jumped back as his eyes met those of the dragon child.

The dragon reared back and, no longer hesitant, shot out a plume of fire. The flame seared into the wall a hands-breadth away from Norl. He could feel the heat of it singe his eyebrows. He backed away as far as he could, but the dragon had seen him and was after him with a roar and another burst of flame.

Norl clawed at the scales covering Caulda’s body. Fighting down revulsion, he dug his fingers into the crack between two of them and hauled himself up. His toes scrabbled until they found holds as well. Desperately, he clambered up Caulda’s body until he reached the top of
her back. There was a hollow in between her wings and he curled himself up in it. It afforded little protection—all he could hope was that the dragon child would not follow him here.

It was a forlorn hope. The dragon was after him with a speed that was unbelievable in such a newly hatched and still clumsy beast. Norl scrabbled away from it, but lost his grip. Without warning, he found himself tumbling down Caulda’s other side. He landed with a thump that knocked the air out of his lungs. For a moment he lay there, exposed but unable to move. Then, with a gasp, he drew air back into his lungs and leaped to his feet. He made a dash for the shallow fissure on the other side of the cave. The dragon child was after him in a second, maw gaping wide. Dragon teeth, small, but deadly. Norl backed into the fissure, but there was no escape. The dragon child filled the opening. It stopped for a moment, then began to surge toward Norl again.

Norl pressed back against the rough stone, cringing. This, then, was the end. But, as the dragon child let out a triumphant cry, he felt a sudden rage rise, red and furious, within him. In that moment he remembered how he had faced the boar—how he had dominated it. Could he do it again? There was no other choice but death.

He gathered the anger into one mad, defiant blaze and hurled it at the dragon child.

You will not harm me!

Incredibly, the dragon child stopped. Its head swung
back and forth as it stared at Norl. There was a total, absolute silence.

Catryn carried her seeing bowl outside and knelt to dip it into the stream. As her hand touched the water, she felt a strange prickle in her fingers. It ran up her arm and into her body. Suddenly dizzy, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes. A blackness roared in her head. She opened her eyes quickly, then looked down at the bowl in her hand. With a shock she realized that the water within it shimmered dark—impenetrable. Impossible! She looked back to the stream—the stream that had run pure and clean since time immemorial, but it ran clear. She shook her head, then emptied her bowl back into it. The black water swirled into the current and disappeared. She ran a finger around the inside of the vessel. What had contaminated it? How could that have happened?

She dipped the bowl back into the water. Reflections of the eternal sunlight that filled the Domain sent shivering glints off the rippling wavelets of the stream, translucent drops dripped from the bowl’s sides. But, even as she lifted the vessel to gaze into it, the water within inked over yet again.

With a cry, Catryn threw the bowl down. The water spilled out onto the earth around her. The ground blackened as if scorched. A thin, vaporous mist seeped up out of it and twined around her ankles.

S
hocked, Norl relaxed for a moment. Immediately, the dragon reared up and prepared to attack. Norl brought his mind sharply back, focused his energy on the beast. The dragon dropped to all fours.

Norl felt tendrils of thought winding their way into his mind. Vague and vacuous, unformed, questing. The dragon’s head wove from side to side. Then a flood of sensation almost overwhelmed Norl.

Hunger!

The dragon needed food. And the only food in the cave was Norl.

He could sense his control fading. The dragon’s need was overcoming his fear—if fear it was—of Norl. Gnawing hunger, relentless and powerful, tore at Norl’s mind.

A rat scurried by. In a flash the dragon child was upon it. One gulp and it was gone. Now Norl could feel a new awareness in the beast’s mind. Taste. The taste of blood.
The satisfaction of feeding. But one rat would not begin to satisfy its growing need.

Norl had to escape and there was only one way to do that. He must fly again. He must! With every iota of his mind, he pulled back the feeling of flight. Of weightlessness. He pictured his hands, arms becoming feathered. He reined in his heart. He saw every vein, every life-carrying artery within his body changing, bones losing density, mass. He could feel his head altering shape, a tightness in his face as it transformed. He could no longer feel his body. His senses sharpened, grew keener. The dragon smell no longer disgusted him—it electrified him. The cave around him ceased to exist. He stood in the middle of whirling nothingness. With an effort, he raised his arms…heavy…then not so heavy. Suddenly…light! Feathers prickled for a moment as they settled themselves smoothly.

Wings! He had wings! Mighty wings! He drew himself up, stepped out of the fissure in which he cowered, and unfurled them, raised them high. He could feel the power surging through his body. He gave an experimental beat and thrilled at the sensation. With a gathering confidence, he raised the wings once more. Another beat, two…suddenly he was looking down on the dragon and the dragon was staring back up at him. Too late, the child reared again and sent a quiver of flame after him, but Norl was already far beyond its reach. He could feel the air currents in his feathers, rising beneath him, carrying him higher and higher, up to the circle of sky and sun above him, and then
he was through it. Through, into the air and the light and the wind. All thoughts of the dragon below evaporated in a sudden bliss. This! This was his true self!

He knew not for how long he flew, nor where his flight took him. When he came back to his senses, he looked down, but could not recognize the land below. He circled, saw the mountain to the west. Instinctively, but still without any fixed purpose, he banked and flew toward it. It was only when he realized that he was over the dragon’s lair once more that memory returned to him. He had escaped!

Hard upon that came the thought of the Sele and Hhana. He must find them. He circled yet again, this time searching the ground below him with eyes that missed nothing. He took note of every scurry, every living creature that fled his shadow. At last he saw two small figures, toiling up the path that led to the summit of the mountain. They would miss the opening to the dragon’s lair if they kept on in that direction. He began to descend in ever decreasing spirals until he was directly above them. Only then did they notice him. With a last beat of his mighty wings, he landed on a rock in front of them.

He had time only to wonder how he would regain his own form when he found himself doing it. A shudder ran through his body as he willed himself human again.

“Norl!” The Sele was staring at him as if unable to believe its eyes.

Hhana had taken a step back. “Is it really you?” she gasped.

In spite of himself, Norl grinned. Then he sobered as he looked more closely at Hhana. He could see the dragon clearly in her now. Had she changed so much in the short time he had been gone—or had he changed? He had consorted with dragons. He had dominated one, albeit a young one and only for an instant; had that changed
him?

It seemed that it might have, at least in Hhana’s eyes, for she looked at him with a wariness that was new.

“Caulda is dead,” he announced. “But not by my doing,” he added quickly as the Sele reached out to congratulate him. “She died of age, or sickness, I know not what.”

“Then your quest is over,” the Sele said with relief.

Hhana made a sound that was half a sob, half a cry. The Sele turned to her. “It is better this way,” it said.

“But she was so magnificent,” Hhana said. “And she was the last!”

“Thanks be for that,” the Sele answered.

“But if there be no more dragons…” Hhana began. She caught herself, but then went on. “If there be no more dragons,” she repeated, “then what of me? Why do I exist?”

The Sele could make no answer to that but, as it was struggling to find words, Norl broke in.

“She was not the last of the dragons,” he said. “She had a child.”

The Sele and Hhana stared at him, stunned.

“A child?” Sele the Plump said in horror.

“A child?” Hhana echoed, but she did not echo the
horror. Instead there was something very near to joy in her voice.

Norl was stopped short by it. He looked hard at Hhana, then went on.

“A dragon child,” he said. “It was to escape it that I found the way to change. I flew, Sele. This time not by accident, but by my own will.”

“And the dragon child?” Hhana asked.

“I left it there,” Norl answered, noting again the eagerness in her voice. “It is newly hatched. It cannot fly and there is little there for it to eat. There is nothing to fear from it,” he added. “It will starve before it can do harm to anyone.”

“You left it to die?” Hhana cried.

“Of course,” Norl answered. “What else should I do?” But even as he spoke, he remembered Caulda’s prediction: that he would care for and nourish her child. Ridiculous! A dragon? Never!

“It is a child. It is helpless,” Hhana said. She stared at Norl.

Norl stared back at her. He suddenly remembered the expression on her face as she had watched Caulda carry him off. This maid was too much dragon. She was not to be trusted.

“It was my destiny to rid Taun of dragons,” he said, his voice flat, uncompromising.

“It was your destiny to return to Caulda, I think,” the Sele answered slowly, weighing each word carefully.

“Nowhere was it written that you should kill her. That, Norl, was your own belief.”

“But of course I had to kill her,” Norl countered. “If not, she would have killed me!” Again, as he spoke, he was forced to remember Caulda’s words. Would she really have killed him? She said that was not why she had demanded that he return to her. But who could trust the word of a dragon? It was more likely that she would have fed him to the child if she had lived.

“But she did die,” the Sele insisted, implacable. “She is no longer a danger to you.”

“Her child is,” Norl insisted. “It wanted nothing more than to devour me.”

“In its need for food,” Hhana broke in. “How could a child not need to satisfy its hunger?”

“This is a
dragon
child,” Norl burst out. “Was I to offer myself up to it, then?”

“No,” Hhana shot back, “but dragon or not, you cannot abandon the child to die of starvation. You can fly—you can provide it with the means to live.”

“You are asking me to nourish it?” Norl spat back, incredulous. “To enable another dragon to terrorize Taun?”

Sele the Plump’s voice cut through the fury of words to silence them both.

“Can you really let the child die, Norl?”