“Maru.” Aura stumbles toward him, the Shaman who transported her scrambling to get out of her way.
They come together and their necks entwine as a deep ache lifts from his heart. Carefully, he enfolds his mate within his wings. She melts against him while soft sobs wrench from her throat. Pressing his cheek against the top of her head, he whispers, “My love, it is wonderful to have thee back in my embrace.”
Aura lifts tear-filled eyes to meet his gaze and starts to speak when an ear-shattering screech fills the cavern. She jerks away, turning to face the charging form of Falcop. The green hatchling scrambles across the cavern, scattering people and leaving a shambles of carts and equipment in his wake.
Falcop reaches his dama and flings himself into her embrace. Aura rears on her hind legs, clutching the green hatchling to her with her forearms, and sobs shake both their frames.
Maru glances past his mate and sees Healer Geramn brushing tears from his eyes. He nods at the Healer, moved by this indication the man genuinely cares and rejoices with him at the return of his Aura.
Falcop’s cries subside to soft crooning as his son nestles against Aura when she settles to the ground. Maru’s heart melts inside his chest as he watches his mate stroke the green hatchling, her eyes shedding tears of joy.
Maru turns and walks over to Kilita; the emerald dragon has entered the healing waters and three Shaman are in trance beside her, Healing her injuries. “Kilita…” He pauses, words failing him to express his thanks at her efforts to bring Aura back safely. “Thank thee seems too small to express my gratitude.”
Kilita pulls her eyes from Aura and Falcop’s reunion. “The joy they find in being brought back together is thanks enough.”
Maru lowers his head, mindful not to disturb the Shaman; he presses his cheek against Kilita’s face, gently rubbing against the scales. “Know that I am forever in thy debt.”
“I am forever thy friend, it is no more than thou does.” Kilita pulls her head back slightly to peer into his eyes, the multi-hued gold in her eyes swirling in emotion. “We must find a way to secure the hatchlings and younglings. Too many have already become sacrifice to this battle.”
Maru listens in shock as she tells him of the other nests found decimated. His nostrils begin to puff smoke as his rage ignites the battle fires within him.
~!~
“Trella, may I speak with thee a moment?”
Trella opens her eyes to see Estrola standing at the entrance to her chamber. Trella nods, stretching as she sits up in the nest. “Lady Blessings, Estrola; enter and be welcome in my temporary lair.”
The midnight-blue dragon enters, her immense size making the chamber seem much smaller than it had moments before. “Is thou comfortable here? The humans seemed to have made effort to suit our needs in these chambers.” She glances at the nest and the stone trough along one side, filled with clean water.
“Yes, there is nothing I require.” Trella glances ruefully at her wing. “The Healers say it will be a couple of moons before my wing can sustain flight. This chamber shall suffice until then.”
“Belnarth is grateful for thy friendship to his youngling.”
“Pearlitta is a special child.”
“Yes, she is.” Estrola settles on her haunches and her tail curls around her. “Has thou had children of thine own?”
Trella shakes her head. “No, I reached the age to consider doing so as the battles began.” She rises and moves from the nest toward the water, careful not to jar her wing. “I chose not to mate until my mate and I could devote our time to raising our young.” She reaches the trough and lowers her head to slurp up the cool water. Her stomach rumbles, reminding her she also needs to feed this sunrise. “To what do I owe this visit, Estrola?” she asks, turning to face the larger female.
“I came to ask thee to take on a special task for dragonkind.”
Trella politely moves away from the water, in case her guest would like to drink. “I am told it will be as many as six moons before I am able to resume long flights, little alone engage in battle.”
“Yes, well, thy flight ability will not affect this task.”
Trella gazes at the female, unsure what other skill she has that can help. “I am afraid I do not understand?”
“It is a task of a delicate nature.” Estrola shifts, glances at the entrance arch then at the stone floor of the chamber. “The Mystics of our allies have revealed the Lady has sent them prophesies that show no future for dragonkind, except perhaps one. By working together with our allies, we hope to secure that future. Forgive my need to speak bluntly, but thy pheromones indicate thou enters the time when thou would be receptive to mating.”
Surprise makes her Mindspeak a bit sharp as she replies, “I have yet to allow my mating cycles to interfere with my obligations.”
“I knew thy sire and dama; I would never think that thou would.” Estrola raises her eyes to meet Trella’s gaze. Her dark-green eyes whirl slowly in the dim light of the chamber. “Thy receptiveness to mating is the delicate nature of this task. Dragonkind needs females willing to bear eggs for our future.”
Trella feels a jolt of sheer shock at the female’s words. “My decision to not carry a clutch until the battles are over is my own to make.”
“The situation is much more dire than is known by most.” Estrola shakes her massive head, her expression bleak. “I have been tasked with seeking females who would agree to selective mating. The eggs would ensure dragonkind’s future. They are to be placed in stasis created by the Shaman as the key to our survival. Too many females fall in battle, and clutches are being lost by the score.”
“Selective mating? Stasis?” She forces the words past a throat gone dry.
“Males with proven prodigy, strong clutches that thrive, will be asked to participate. Thou is from outstanding stock and, with such a male, should produce a clutch with the best opportunity to flourish. The eggs will be held in a magical field until the time is safe to allow them to come to maturity and hatch.”
“Thou asks me to bond with a male not of my choosing?”
“Bond, no. Only to carry his eggs until thy clutch arrives. Then those eggs will be added to others for the safeguarding of our future.”
Shock renders Trella speechless.
Estrola rises and stretches her long neck across to stroke her cheek against Trella’s. “It is a lot to comprehend. I know what I ask of thee will be hard. I only do so because it may be the only way to secure a future for dragons.” She shifts toward the doorway. “I will leave thee to consider this. I pray thou can understand and agree to accept this duty for dragonkind.” The large dragon slips out the entrance.
Trella slumps to the cavern floor, her mind awhirl.
~!~
“My thanks.” Jadrun runs his gnarled fingers through his fresh-shorn hair and offers a wan grin. “I was beginning to feel like a sheep the drama before shearing.”
Sheina smiles, her emerald eyes full of compassion and sparkling in the sunshine. “It is a small enough effort for such a vast improvement.” She gestures to Montello. “Come lad, we have time to get you shorn before midday meal.”
Montello takes the stool his father vacates and Sheina’s scissors soon flash as his blond hair tumbles to join the black strands scattered across the cobblestones from his sire. A sad smile forces past Jadrun’s worry as his son’s eyes close and Montello’s face takes on an expression of stoic endurance. The lad always did hate getting his hair cut. Blanche usually resorted to dragging Jadrun’s son before him to enforce that the lad sit and have his locks cut into a semblance of order.
Jadrun stole a few moments from his duties for the guilty pleasure of enjoying this simple activity with his son. They have had so little time together since the attack that killed Herlan and in which Blanche was lost. Montello has lost too much weight since Herlan’s death. The dark smudges beneath his eyes are mute testimony to his son’s depression since the attack. He looks more like a bewildered child tha
n a young man of fifteen winters. Jadrun shakes his head; it is hard to believe that Montello has reached the age to make his own decisions about the direction of his life. Jadrun turns his gaze to the valley simmering in the sunshine. Not that many choices are open to his son. Since the incursions began, all choices are aimed at survival.
He watches the progress of a dome in the valley below. Made from mud bricks, the domes are unusual for a community of the Palmir People, but are becoming more frequent. The domes offer more protection against the Volastoque than do the more common wood-frame buildings. The one below will shelter those people and livestock caught out in the event of an attack before they are brought into the caverns for the night.
He tugs a silver chain from his tunic and studies his green crystal as it lies glistening in his palm. The Shaman Society test youths at Montello’s age for aptitude to use the crystal’s powers. His son should have already been tested.
He glances back where Sheina puts finishing touches on Montello’s haircut.
There must be a way they can continue the testing. The need to train additional users of the crystals becomes more urgent daily. Although he understood the Society’s mandate of concealment, the needs of the people outweigh the potential hazards. When the Society first made themselves known to the Palmir People, acceptance of the powers came easily enough, since the Society used their powers in the defense of the Palmir People. He will speak with Shaman Hern. The Council must move on setting up testing and training.
Messages continually arrive from around the continent of skirmishes with, and full-strength attacks by, the Volastoque, such as that which stole Harlan from them. He gazes up; the barrier that shrouds the valley can barely be seen, only as a slight shimmer. Even as a Shaman, he is in awe of such power. Using his transporting crystal has become second nature; he can do so with only a thought. But this cloak barrier amazes him. He cannot even begin to fathom how the spell works; he only knows that it involves use of the red crystals and requires occasional tending to maintain.
Sheina completes her efforts.
Montello vacates the stool to another lad and tugs at his forelock. “My thanks, Nora Sheina.” Montello walks over to his sire, his hand ruffling the shortened hairs on his head. “There is something I wish to speak with you about.”
Jadrun lays his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Yes, I wanted to speak with you as well. Shall we head to the dining chamber and talk as we share midday meal? I have to meet Healer Geramn afterwards.”
“I would like that, but I have duties to attend to first.”
Jadrun stifles his disappointment; it has been too long since he and his son have had any time together. “Very well, what is it that you wished to discuss?”
Montello’s brown eyes take on a slight gleam. “I care for the hatchling, Falcop. His sire asks that I am assigned to him. At first, it was to help him get over his fears and loneliness while his dama was missing.” Montello leans on the railing and stares down into the valley as he speaks. “But, now she has returned. Aura will require time to heal, but then she and Maru will join the battles again. Since Falcop and I have established a bond of sorts, they ask that I continue to work with him and remain at his side when his parents are away.”
“And you wish to do this?”
Montello turns his gaze to Jadrun. “Yes, I do. It is something that fulfills me. I do not know that I can explain it, but Falcop has become very important to me.”
“What of your testing for Shaman?”
Montello’s eyes shift away and he swallows twice before meeting Jadrun’s gaze once more. “That has always been your dream, sire. I do not know that it has ever been mine.”
“You and your brother—”
“Yes, Herlan and I planned to be Shaman together.” Shadows of grief darken Montello’s brown eyes. “But it was Herlan who wanted to be a Shaman, the part important to me was the together. That is no longer possible.”
Jadrun lays a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder. He, too, grieved the loss of Montello’s twin. “Perhaps you need more time, we only recently lost your brother. And your dama is still missing. A decision like this… well, it is best you are past grieving when you make such a choice.”
A single tear slips down Montello’s cheek. “I shall grieve throughout my lifetime for Herlan.” He swipes at the tear with his sleeve and straightens his shoulders. “I still hold hope Dama may yet be found. Yet, I am not allowed to join in the search as I have no skills to contribute past my willingness to look. They say it is too dangerous and that they have enough searchers out. However, I must find my way in the Palmir People.” His lips twist in a sad smile. “This is a way… I can serve and perhaps even find some happiness.”
Jadrun squeezes Montello’s shoulder, then allows his hand to drop to his side. “That is all I can hope for you at this time. You have my blessing to pursue this bonding.”
~!~
Kilita floats near the center of the Healing lake. Her neck wound is closed; four sunrises she has soaked in the amber waters. Healers concluded their work moments ago and her mending will complete through the power of the amber waters.
The battle covey she usually flew with, Rejack’s, has returned to the lairs near the caverns beyond the Exeda Mountains. Once she heals, she will join them. Maru flew with the same covey as did several of the other injured dragons at Kitloch. They need to return as soon as possible to get Rejack’s battle covey up to strength.
Now that Aura is returned to her mate, Kilita feels herself plummeting into the apathy of grief. She sinks lower in the waters, only her eyes and nostrils above the surface. By the Lady, she feels so alone. Timac. How can she continue without her loving mate?
Soft calls of Toh-ka, Toh-kay drift across the chamber and she rouses herself to watch as a blond lad brings Falcop his feeding. She glances to where Aura rests in the lake beside her mate. The mahogany female rests her head on the shore, her golden eyes pulsing with satisfaction as Aura watches the green hatchling wolf down huge quantities of slaughtered goat.
Kilita turns her gaze away, ashamed at the jealousy that clenches her heart.
Chapter 18
Geramn rounds the corner in the main tunnel and crashes into a stout lad. He grasps the boy’s shoulder and steadies him. “Excuse me, I am in a hurry and did not see you.” The boy shoves his brown hair back and Geramn recognizes Elish. “Elish, did I hurt you?”
“No, Nor. I am fine.” Elish’s eyes dart around the tunnel, then meet Geramn’s gaze. “Actually, I was looking for you. I hoped to speak with you?”
Geramn glances the way he was headed. “I really am in a hurry; can you walk with me as we talk?”
“Of course.”
“Come then.” He strides off, and then slows so the lad can keep up without running. “What can I do for you, Elish?”
“I wish to become a Healer.”
Geramn looks at the boy in surprise. Elish walks with his eyes straight forward, his jaw thrust out and his hands clenched at his sides. “You are a bit young to make that decision.”
“There is no one to make it for me. My family died at Preloch.”
“Yes, I know.” Geramn falters, knowing nothing he can say will ease the pain shown on the boy’s face.
“My dama… she may have lived if a Healer was available.” His green eyes shadow in grief as the boy continues. “I want to be a Healer. Never have I felt so helpless as when the attack rendered me unable to take care of my family.” He lifts his face and turns it to peer up at Geramn. “I know it will be three winters yet before I can apprentice. But, perhaps there is something I can learn and do toward that goal?”
“Instruction cannot begin until you are tested, and that does not occur until your fifteenth winter.”
“Why?”
Flustered, Geramn pauses. The flow of people passes around them like a stream parting around a boulder. “It has always been that way.”
The need in Elish’s eyes touches Geramn as the lad res
ponds, his voice barely above a whisper. “Fifteen winters is when the Palmir People believe a man grown, past his childhood.” The boy shoves his brown hair back and meets Geramn’s eyes, unflinching. “My childhood ended when my dama died in my arms. I know what I want. I yearn to help others not lose their families. I want to relieve the pain of the dying if I cannot heal them so they may live.”
“You are right; sometimes age does not denote maturity.” Geramn gestures they should continue on their way. “I will speak to the Council of Healers on your behalf.”
Elish’s face takes on an aspect of hope. “My thanks, Healer Geramn.”
Geramn nods, debates a moment with himself, then adds, “I go to the valley; a calf broke its leg and needs attention. Would you like to accompany me?”
A sparkle of interest lights Elish’s eyes as he responds, “Yes, I would.”
“Come then, Shaman Jadrun waits at the entrance courtyard to transport us to the field where the calf awaits.”
~!~
Elish hurries along a half-stride behind Healer Geramn as is appropriate to show respect for the man. His heart feels lighter since the Healer agreed to speak with the Council on his behalf. They exit the cavern. Healer Geramn waves to a morose, black-headed Shaman who slumps beside the rail at the courtyard’s edge where the mountain sheers down into the valley.
Shaman Jadrun is lean and tall; he reminds Elish of his Uncle Kahril, also lost in the attack at Preloch. The Healer and Shaman talk for a moment; Elish barely pays attention to their conversation as his mind swirls at the possibility of studying to become a Healer. He feels so adrift since his arrival at Kitloch, the prospect of having a focus to his life feels good.
“Come lad, stand beside me.” Shaman Jadrun gestures Elish over.
Elish moves with alacrity to the Shaman’s side. Jadrun smiles reassuringly as he places a hand on Elish’s shoulder. “Have you transported before?”
“Only when we were brought here.” Elish keeps his face calm.
“Ah, well it is the same experience no matter the distance.” Shaman Jadrun places his other hand on the Healer’s shoulder. “Let us go.”
Elish staggers a bit as they appear in a rolling meadow. Jadrun tightens his grip on Elish’s shoulder to steady him, then pats him on the back when he stabilizes.