“Alright there, lad?” The Shaman’s voice is kind as he peers at Elish from beneath his shaggy brow.
“Yes, Nor.” Elish turns his gaze to where Healer Geramn strides toward a herder and a large brown cow. He glances back at Jadrun. “My thanks, Shaman Jadrun.” He tugs on his forelock and then hurries to join the Healer.
“I will send another before nightfall meal to retrieve you. I will be joining the search at the caverns at Burick Lake for the rest of this day,” Shaman Jadrun calls out to Geramn.
“May the Lady aid you in your search.” Healer Geramn waves a hand and disappears in the deep grass as he kneels beside the cow.
The herder, a brawny young man, holds the cow by a strap around her neck. He wears a worried expression as he watches Healer Geramn gently stroke the black calf lying in the grass beside them. Elish stands, watching the Healer, unsure what to do.
Geramn looks up. “Elish, come to the calf’s head. See if you can keep him calm while I examine him.” The Healer glances up at the Herder. “You sure you can restrain that cow by yourself?”
The young man nods. “Cloie is a placid beast, she shall not harm you.” He broadens his stance and grasps the strap holding the dama with both hands; the muscles in his thighs and forearms bulge. “I can hold her, should her attitude change.”
Elish kneels, gathering the young bullock’s head into his lap. He gently strokes the soft facial hair, murmuring platitudes to calm the youngster.
Healer Geramn lowers a satchel from his shoulder and places one hand on the calf’s shoulder and the other on the front leg that lies on the ground at an odd angle. “I will enter a Healing trance and relieve her pain first.” He glances at Elish. “Relieving her suffering should make the rest of our task easier. But make sure you do not allow her to raise her head. She cannot rise without lifting her head. Once she is without pain, she may think to get up. I need you to restrain her until we have her leg in a splint.”
Elish nods his understanding and takes a firm hold on the bulky head.
The Healer’s hands take on a soft, amber glow as he chants prayers to the Lady for guidance in this Healing. Elish glances at the cow; she stands placidly, her deep brown eyes locked on the Healer. The sun beats down and warms his back as he once again gives the Healer his attention. Geramn’s eyes have closed.
Elish closes his own eyes. He jolts as his perceptions broaden and he feels a tug. Concentrating on the slight pull, he perceives an immersion as the path the Healer takes to the calf’s brain opens before him in his mind’s eye. Small tendrils, much like roots in a plant, are swollen and tiny sparks leap across them. His mouth falls open in surprise as he watches Healer Geramn soothe the frantic pulsing of pain.
Beneath his hand, the calf sighs, relaxing her head deeper into Elish’s lap.
Elish draws in a shuddering breath as Geramn draws him along when the Healer moves his attention to the foreleg. Elish has hunted and prepared the meat for his family for many years. The muscles, veins, arteries, and bones he sees, flush with a healthy blush, are not strange to him. What is different is this tissue pulses with life.
The large bone of the foreleg is surrounded by mahogany pools of blood. Healer Geramn plunges deeper into the leg and Elish can see the crushed bone. Bone splinters radiate out from the break, lodging in the surrounding tissue. Elish feels the Healer concentrating his attention on the area, and the tissues infuse with a pliable amber radiance. The flesh throbs and forces the splinters back toward the bone.
A deep amber pulse shoots to the surrounding tendons and ligaments. They tremble, then relax, loosening their grip on the shattered bone. Now the bone begins to vibrate as the bone shards realign and fuse, reforming into their column of bone. Deeper, Geramn plunges and the marrow comes into view.
Healer Geramn infuses the marrow with energy and the cells swell as they begin to multiply. Fibers of protein lace across the inner wall of the bone. Geramn fills them with energy and they form a knit across the bone surfaces. Withdrawing to the outer bone, Geramn locates similar protein fibers and encourages them to grow rapidly; soon the bone column is encased in a protein net across the once-shattered bone.
The calf jerks in his grasp and Elish’s eyes snap open. He locks his arms around the calf’s head and leans forward to immobilize the calf with his weight. With blurred vision he sees the Healer withdraw from his trance and reach for his satchel. Geramn pulls out a pouch and opens it to remove a damp, thick cloth. His light-blue eyes meet Elish’s. “Can you spare one hand?”
Elish nods, leans his right side onto to the calf’s head, and frees his left hand.
Healer Geramn hands him a sealing stone and takes the damp cloth, mounding it around the calf’s upper leg. He presses the edge firmly against the layer beneath it. “Use the sealing stone to seal it.”
Elish presses the stone against the edge of the fabric, moving it slowly along the length until the fabric is sealed.
Once more Healer Geramn’s hands take on an amber glow as he compresses the cloth against the limb. The cloth takes on a light sheen, and then hardens.
Geramn eases away from the calf. “You can let her up now.”
Elish scrabbles back from the calf; it lurches to its feet and toddles over to nurse its dam. Getting to his feet, he is a bit dizzy with excitement as he offers the stone to the Healer. “That was incredible.”
The Healer accepts the stone, one eyebrow raised. He wears a contemplative expression as he says, “You were with me, you followed along.”
“Yes, what you did was amazing; I cannot wait to be tested.”
A wry chuckle escapes the Healer as he tucks the sealing stone back into his satchel. “Lad, I for one see no reason for another test.”
Elish can feel his spirit plunge. “Nor?”
“You obviously have an affinity to the Healing magic.” Geramn reaches and ruffles his hair. “One of the strongest I have seen with no training.”
A goofy grin breaks out across his face and Elish tries to school his expression to one more suiting a potential Healer’s apprentice. “Thank you, Healer Geramn.”
Geramn shakes his head. “It is not my decision to make, but I shall do all that I can to get you established as an apprentice.”
Elish watches the calf learning to move beside its dam with the braced leg and for once in a long time, hope permeates his soul.
~!~
“You simply cannot call off the search until all those missing are accounted for.” Jadrun slams his fist on the massive table with such force the mugs upon it rattle.
The Headman for the caverns at Burick Lake shakes his head. “Shaman Jadrun, I am sorry. We simply can no longer dedicate the personnel to a pointless search.”
“My mate and others are still not accounted for.”
“It has been over two dramas, we must assume—”
“When it comes to my family’s safety, I assume nothing.”
“I understand. However, Shaman Jadrun, you must understand my position.” The frazzled elder runs a gnarled hand through his thinning silver hair. “It has been many sunrises since a survivor or even a body has been found. There is no delicate way to put this. We have searched the area thoroughly. Any survivors should have been able to call out to a searcher, even if injured. The Volastoque have been known to carry off those they subject to their darts, and evidence shows they consume some of those attacked.” Headman Kiltem’s brown eyes well with compassion as he meets Jadrun’s glare. “The handful of people not accounted for… We must assume they have fallen to one of those fates.”
“I will not accept that.”
“You may not, but I have to. The dragons need to return to their tasks in escort or attack coveys.” Headman Kiltem’s hand taps a pile of documents on the table in front of him. “I have many situations that require manpower. Manpower we have dedicated to this search; it is time to put the people back to the tasks that will ensure the survival of all those here at Burick Lake Caverns.”
; “Would you do so if it were your mate missing?” Jadrun flung the words at the man like knives.
“I could not put my own needs over the needs of so many. So, yes.” Kiltem meets his eyes, unflinching. “Shaman Jadrun, I understand you lost a son in the attack as well. I realize this is difficult for you to accept, but it is time to mourn your mate as well. If there were anything I could do to change that, I would. However, your mate, and the other seven still missing, must be assumed dead or lost to those creatures. I am sorry.” He holds out a parchment for Jadrun to take. “This is from the Shaman Council. You are ordered back to Kitloch, and to desist in your search.”
Jadrun ignores the proffered document and jerks to his feet, his body rigid; he glares at the Headman for a moment, then wordlessly strides from the chamber. He forces himself to calm as he reaches the ledge outside the cavern. Focusing his power, he transports to the edge of the area he last searched. He will continue to look, despite his orders and with or without help.
Chapter 19
Maru bugles to the sentries. He sweeps across Kitloch valley to land at one of the cavern’s back entrances. He ignores the various aches of his body as he lowers the two deer to the stone ledge. Men rush to him and grab the deer, moving them to the processing area to the left.
Maru launches, clearing the ledge for the brown dragon he sees incoming, laden with another deer. Almost three dramas have past since he arrived at Kitloch, injured. His recovery is almost complete. Soon he will rejoin the battles.
He wings slowly to the west. For now, he combines his exercise to strengthen his healing body with hunting to feed the population of Kitloch. He glances at the position of the sun. He has time for one more hunting trip before he needs to report to the meadow.
Picking up speed, he heads to a valley some distance from the cavern. Dragons do not hunt the immediate area surrounding Kitloch; the human hunters prowl those hills. Still, he worries they will soon over hunt the area, with so many to provide for. He almost reaches his valley when he sees Aura winging toward him. Aura reaches him and the two dragons hover above the naked branches of the trees.
“My love.” Maru anxiously studies his mate. Aura has the beginning of a healthy shine to her scales, though she is still gaunt. “Thou must take care that thou feeds well. I wish to see thee recover thy condition.”
“I have fed daily. It is important that I help, just as thou does, until my body has completely recovered.”
Maru notes the new scales coming in where the Killer Frost damaged Aura. “Soon, thou will be recovered. It makes my heart swell with happiness.”
Aura shifts her grip on one of the deer that dangles below her. “I have decided to accompany thee when thou leaves to fight in our defense.”
“Thy place is here, with our son.”
“Falcop is well tended by his bonding mate, Montello.”
“Bonding mate?”
“That is the term humans begin to use for those who tend the hatchlings.”
“I see.” Maru flips his head to rub his shoulder; hovering is still hard on his injury. “Still, it would give my heart peace to know thou was here to protect him.”
Aura’s golden eyes whirl, glittering as they reflect sunlight. “There is no safer location; it is why the orphan hatchlings and younglings were brought here.” Her face takes on a softer mien. “Thou simply wishes to keep me out of danger.”
“Is that so wrong?”
Her gaze turns toward the cavern, then she raises her head high and meets his eyes. “I am not a youngling, needing protection. I shall fight alongside thee to avenge our lost children and banish this threat from our people.”
“However—”
Aura breaks her hover. Winging toward the cavern, she calls over her shoulder, “I shall leave soon, if thou prefers I not fight beside thee, then I shall fight alongside Kilita.”
Maru watches her, aggravation and pride warring in his heart. Angling his wings he spirals lower as he once again heads west. He hates to admit it, but his mate is right.
Over the last two dramas, lads and young women have been selected to bond with each hatchling or youngling at Kitloch. Many of the young dragons are the sole survivors of slaughters such as that Falcop survived. Most are orphans, their parents’ lives lost in a futile defense against the Volastoque attacks on the lairs. Twenty-eight dragonets are ensconced in a portion of the cavern the humans have begun to call Dragonhome.
Neither of them needs fear their son will not thrive while they are away. Aura has a right, even an obligation, as a dragon sworn to aid the Palmir People, to participate in combat against the Volastoque.
He shakes his head. That does not make his heart any lighter at the thought of her joining in the battles.
~!~
Montello enters Dragonhome through a tunnel only large enough for the passage of humans. Despair fills his heart; he has just come from asking about the search at the caverns at Burick Lake. No more survivors have been found in the last two sunrises, and he suspects his dama is lost forever. He pauses where the tunnel spills out into the vast chamber and allows his gaze to run across the congregation of young dragons. In a rainbow of hues, they sprawl across the enclosure, each a vivid gem color. Despite their rather awkward stages of growth they are magnificent to behold.
His breath catches in his throat as he spies Falcop.
His hatchling curls in a nest on the west side of the chamber. The vibrant green of Falcop’s scales shines in mute testimony to his returning health. Montello can see the hatchling sleeps soundly, so he turns his strides toward the tunnel where food for the baby dragons is dispersed.
The sharp copper scent of blood rolls across the slaughter chamber. Eight men toil butchering carcasses of deer, goat, mountain goat, and wild hogs. In the far corner the tame meat goats huddle in a forlorn knot, their frightened bleats a constant background accompaniment to the chopping and sawing of the butchers.
To the right, the chamber opens to a wide landing ledge. Several youths lean against the side of the mountain, waiting. Montello moves to the cluster of barrows to claim one as a dragon swoops in to hover above the ledge. The yellow male deposits two fresh-slain mountain goats; they have not hit the stone of the ledge before he breaks his hover and with powerful wing-thrusts rises back to the sky. Two youths scramble across the stone, one shoving along a barrow. They snatch the carcasses and fling them into their barrow and hasten to clear the ledge for two other dragons that are incoming with fresh kills.
Montello waves them over and takes the smaller of the two mountain goats into his own barrow. Falcop consumes a whole goat at each feeding; he will love a still-warm meal. He nods his thanks, then watches as the youths return to the ledge to join the others picking up newly deposited kills. It is early in the day yet, and he knows it is prime hunting time for the dragons, yet still it surprises him the quantity of kills provided each day to feed the young dragons. And he knows the ledge below and to the other side of the mountain face is accepting incoming kills to feed the human populace and injured dragons. He shakes his head. How long can the surrounding area sustain this type of harvest?
He leaves the bright sunlight of the ledge and trundles the barrow through the warm passage to the main chamber. He is glad for his light tunic and trousers, for Dragonhome is substantially warmer than the rest of the caverns. One of the Healers told him that the young dragons require the warmth to thrive.
He wheels the barrow down the incline, his body stiffens, and Montello holds himself upright as possible when he passes the first dragonet who stares at him balefully, a low growl resonating from the red’s deep chest as he sniffs loudly. Montello does his best to ignore the hatchling and moves swiftly toward Falcop. Adrenalin courses through his veins, making his heart beat a rapid rhythm, and his body is covered in a cold sweat when he reaches his charge. He hates traversing past the other young dragons; he is never sure if they will allow him to pass, or pounce on his cargo of meat, or even him.
Falcop
rises to his thorax as Montello arrives. His nostrils flair and he lurches to his feet, his sharp talons scattering the nest. Montello rushes to yank the young goat from the cart and lays it before the hatchling. A sweet crooning comes from the green hatchling as he crunches into the goat with delight. His golden eyes whirl and he vibrates with pleasure as he consumes the goat.
Montello stands with a foolish grin plastered on his face as he watches the way the hatchling relishes the fresh kill. One hand idly scratches the back of his head as the tingle of Falcop’s attempt at Mindspeak reaches him. “You like it still warm.”
No words can be made out, but the pleasure his young charge takes in his meal is conveyed.
“It will not be long until you are using Mindspeak.” Montello’s heart swells in pride as he watches his dragon baby. Falcop’s hips and back have filled in, his form smooth with well-rounded flesh. He frowns when he notices some dried flakes of blood jammed along the edges of Falcop’s scales. That will not do at all. His dama would be ashamed of him for taking such poor care of his charge.
Montello reaches to scratch the hatchling along his brow ridges when he has finished his meal. “Come along, Falcop, let us take you and get you bathed.”
A deep rumble of satisfaction comes from the hatchling, but he turns and starts toward his nest.
“Falcop, follow me, I will get you cleaned up and oil these dry scales of yours.”
Falcop pauses, his head cocked to the right as he contemplates Montello.
Montello clasps his neck and tugs. “Come along.”
The green hatchling bobs his head.
Montello turns and takes a couple of steps. Yes. Falcop follows along! He grins. “You will feel much better once we have cleaned you up.” Moving steadily, he heads to the pool in an adjacent chamber, Falcop clattering along behind.
~!~
Jadrun’s eyebrows rise in surprise when Healer Geramn enters the assembly room. Geramn’s light-blue eyes sweep the chamber and settle on Jadrun. He nods and, with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, makes his way to a seat beside Jadrun at the table.