Dragon Haven (56 page)

Tears threatened again, and she couldn’t say what kind they were. Fear? Anger? Her heart was leaping against her ribs.

“Try to move them,” Sintara insisted, and her voice was full not of concern but only curiosity. Thymara felt a puff of breath against her bare back and shivered, and suddenly felt the twitch of something on her back.

“What is that?” she cried, hunching away from her own body.
But now it hurt, as if she had wrenched her back or sprained a finger joint. Something connected to her spine was cramped, jammed, and painful. She writhed, and with horror felt a trickle of warm fluid run down her back, and then a damp weight hung limply against her back.

“What is it?” she cried out. She dared not and yet she must. She reached over her shoulder and touched something that felt like sticks bundled in wet cloth. “NO!” she cried, and as her body jerked with shock, she felt the other wing break free of its concealment. “No!” she said more faintly. She started to cover her face with her hands and found herself staring at a coating of thin blood on her fingers. She shuddered. That was a mistake. The things on her back twitched and shook. They were part of her. Foreign and monstrous and part of her. She could feel the summer air on them, feel Sintara’s snort of amusement as she said, “Well. I’d expected better than that.”

“I didn’t expect them at all!” Thymara shouted at her. “How can you do this to me?
Why
would you do this to me?”

“I didn’t intend to!” the dragon admitted. For that moment, she sounded almost flustered. Then anger won as she said, “You did it to yourself, if you must know. You were careless. When you pulled the rasp snakes from me, my blood spattered on you. Some must have gone in your mouth. From that time on, I felt you more intensely. You must have felt that our shared awareness grew! How could you not?”

“I thought it was just…just what keepers and dragons felt. But why did you do this to me?”

“I didn’t. I didn’t want to change you then; I hadn’t planned to. Usually, a dragon is very selective in who she chooses to accept as an Elderling. Such a change is an honor reserved for the most devoted, the most loyal and intelligent of humans. In ancient times, humans vied for such attention granted by a dragon. They didn’t just fall into it by virtue of being given the care of a dragon as if it were a menial chore!”

“Then why did you do it? Why?” Tears were running down her face. Their voices had carried. She heard keeper voices lifted querulously, heard the rumble of dragons. She didn’t care, didn’t
care if the others were watching from the deck of the
Tarman,
didn’t care if the other dragons were disturbed and drawing near to see what the fuss was. This was between her and Sintara, and she intended to have it out, once and for all.

“You began changing yourself! You dreamed of flying more than I did! I was not even thinking of changing you. When Mercor pointed out to me that you were changing, I took pity on you. That’s all. You should be grateful! They will be quite beautiful when they are finished, almost a mirror to my own. And I, I will have the first winged Elderling! No other dragon has ever created such a creature.”

Thymara craned her neck to try to look over her shoulder. The dragon sounded so pleased with herself. Were the wings actually beautiful? Should she feel herself honored rather than made monstrous? No matter how she twisted her head, all she could see was the wet tip of something that reminded her of a rain-soaked parasol. Timidly she reached back with both hands. Wings. She felt skin stretched over bone and cartilage, but strangest of all, when she touched them, she felt herself, just as she did when she touched her own hands.

She dared herself, took hold of them, and tried to stretch them out. No. No, that was like bending her fingers the wrong way. She twitched a shoulder and instinctively folded her wings back in tight to her back. Tight to her back, yes, but not concealed as they had been. Folded smooth to her body, even as Sintara’s wings or a bird’s wings fit flush to her back. “Will they…will they grow more?” She dared herself and then asked boldly, “Will I be able to fly some day?”

“Fly? Don’t be ridiculous. No. They’re much too small. But they will be lovely, as lovely as mine. All will envy you.”

“Why can’t they grow larger? Why couldn’t they grow large enough for me to fly? I want to fly!”

“Why are you daring to ask for more than you’ve been given?” The dragon had gone from being bemused at what she had created to being angry again. Thymara thought that perhaps the truth slipped out when Sintara demanded, “Why do you think you should be able to fly when I cannot?”

“Perhaps because it would only make sense to me that any changes you made in me would be useful to me!”

“You will be pretty! And interesting to other dragons. And that is enough for any Elderling, let alone a human!”

“Perhaps ‘pretty’ wings are enough for you, but if I must bear their weight and the inconvenience of having something growing out of my backbone, perhaps they should be useful. I have never understood why you don’t even try to use your wings. I see the other dragons stretching and working theirs. I’ve seen the silver almost lift himself from the water with his, and he began with a much more ungainly body and smaller wings than yours! You don’t try! I groom your wings and keep them clean. They’ve grown larger and stronger and you could try, but you don’t. All you do is tell me how lovely they are. And lovely they may be, but have you never considered trying to use them for what they are intended?”

She could see the dragon’s fury build. She’d dared to criticize her, and Sintara could not tolerate even the implication that she was lazy or self-pitying or perhaps even just a bit…“Stupid.”

Thymara said the word aloud. She had no idea what prompted her to do it. Perhaps simply to show Sintara that she’d gone too far and that her keeper would no longer be terrorized by her. How dare she put wings on her back when she could not even master the ones that had grown naturally on her own?

The murmur of voices from the barge was growing louder. Thymara refused even to glance in that direction. She stood, her bunched shirt clutched over her breasts, and faced the furiously spinning eyes of her dragon. Sintara was magnificent in her wrath. She lifted her head and opened her jaws wide, displaying the brightly colored poison sacs in her throat. She opened her wings wide, a reflexive display of size that the dragons often used in an attempt to remind one another of their relative sizes and strengths, and they spread like magnificent stained-glass panels unfolding. For a moment, Thymara was dizzied by her glory and her glamour. She nearly fell to her knees before her dragon.

Then she took a grip on herself and stood up to the blast
of pure charisma that Sintara was radiating at her. “Yes. They are beautiful!” she shouted. “Beautiful and useless! As you are beautiful and useless!” A shudder passed over Thymara. She felt suddenly queasy and then realized what she had done. In a bizarre reaction to Sintara’s display, Thymara had spread her own wings. There were shouts of amazement from the keepers on the boat.

Sintara was drawing breath. Her jaws were still wide, and Thymara stood rooted before her, watching her poison sacs swell. If the dragon chose to breathe venom on her, there would be no escape. She stood her ground, frozen with terror and fury.

“Sintara!” The bellow came from Mercor. “Close your jaws and fold your wings! Do not harm your keeper for speaking truth to you!”

“Fight! Fight! Fight!” Spit was trumpeting joyously.

“Quiet, pest!” Ranculos roared at him.

“Do not spray here! The drift will burn me! Blast your own keeper if you wish, Sintara, but spray me and I swear I will burn your wings as full of holes as rotting canvas!” This from small green Fente. The dragon reared onto her hind legs and spread her own wings in challenge.

“Stop this madness!” Mercor bellowed again. “Sintara, hurt not your keeper!”

“She is mine, and I’ll do as I wish!” Sintara’s trumpet was a shrill whistle of anger.

Despite herself, Thymara clapped her hands over her ears. Terror made her reckless. “I don’t care what you do to me! Look what you’ve already done! You want to kill me? Go ahead, you stupid lizard. Someone else can clear the sucking insects from your eyes, take the leeches off your useless, beautiful wings. Go ahead, kill me!”

Sintara reared up, her wings spread wide, glorious, and potentially deadly. The gleaming spikes that tipped each rib of her wing could, if the dragon willed it, ooze toxins with which she could slash a rival in sky battle. Thymara had a brief moment in which to wonder how she suddenly knew such a thing. Then Sintara screamed like a storm wind. She swept her wings closed,
and then as she opened them again, she turned slightly. The wing struck Thymara and sent her flying.

She hit the hard, hard water on her back, felt the agonizing pain as her new wings absorbed that slap. She sank, breathed water, and then her feet found the bottom. She stood up, choking and gasping, her eyes running with silty water and tears. She heard screams from the barge, and Tats shouting, deep, hoarse, and angry, “Thymara! Thymara! Damn you, dragon! Damn you!”

His words did not stall Sintara. She came stalking toward Thymara, her head low now and weaving. “Is that what you wanted, worthless girl? Shall I make you fly again?”

“I warn you, Sintara!” Mercor was bearing down on her. His golden wings were spread, and the light bouncing from them seemed brighter than the sun. Their false eyes seemed to glare.

Choking and coughing, Thymara was backing up as fast as the deepening water would let her, while the angry dragon came on. Sintara’s eyes spun with relentless fury.

Overhead, a hunting hawk screamed. And screamed again. Every dragon looked skyward. The hawk was diving down at them, blasting through the air.

“Tintaglia?” Mercor spoke the name in wonder.

“It’s red!” someone shouted.

The dragons froze, looking at the sky. Thymara seized her shirt, floating on the water near her. She wiped grit and silt from her eyes and stared upward. A bird had broken free of the clouds. The red hawk was growing larger, larger, larger.

“HEEBY!” she screamed suddenly. “RAPSKAL!”

The scarlet dragon trumpeted a triumphant response. Her folded wings suddenly cracked wide, braking her wild dive. She made three tight, impossible circles over the gawking dragons and the grounded barge. Then, with a beat, beat, beat of her wings, Heeby cut in the other direction, enlarged her orbit, and flew a loop around Tarman and the excited dragons. Her ruby wings seemed as wide as a ship’s sails as she slowed gracefully. She flew low, the tips of her wings stirring the standing reeds and rushes. And on her back, a slender scarlet man laughed joyously.

“I’ve found you!” he shouted, and it was Rapskal’s voice, gone a bit deeper but no less wild with optimism. “I’ve found you, and Heeby found Kelsingra! Come on. Follow us! It’s not far! No more than half a day’s flight east of here. Follow us! Follow us to Kelsingra!”

Day the 10th of the Browning Moon

S
o why are you writing it all down?”

In some ways, Alise thought, Rapskal had not changed at all. He fidgeted like the restless boy he had been, anxious to stop sitting still and be off doing things. In other ways, it was difficult to look at the tall, slender scarlet creature he had become and see the keeper boy at all. And getting coherent information out of him was like trying to talk to a dragon. Or a small, impatient child.

She sat on the doorstep of what had most likely been a shepherd’s hut. Below them, a wide rolling green went down to the edge of a rushing river. She was only slowly adapting to the idea that they had finally arrived. To sit on a hillside, to look across a vista of sloping green meadow down to a swiftly flowing river was strange enough. To stare across the wide breadth of that river and study the ancient buildings of Kelsingra in the distance was surreal.

“H
ALF A DAY’S
flight for a dragon” had proved to be over six days of slow travel for the barge. None of it had been easy. For the first day, Heeby had appeared at intervals, looping over the ship and then flying off in the direction they were to follow. Unfortunately, that route led them to even shallower water. The dragons trudged ahead of them, laboriously plodding through standing water and sticky mud. Tarman lurched after them, scraping along with a terrible teetering gait.

On their second day of travel, the rain had returned in relentless sheets. The insistent drops patterned the still surface of the slough with ever-widening circles that negated one another as they overlapped. When the rain stopped, mists rose and cloaked the world in gray. The fog remained until the rain returned to banish it in a deluge. Dragons and ship groped their way forward through a cloud of wet. Life on the barge became more miserable. The keepers crowded into the galley and crew quarters in an attempt to stay dry, but the damp invaded every cranny of the ship. What food they had was eaten cold; they could find no dry fuel for even a small fire in the ship’s stove. Although no outright quarrels broke out, frustration simmered. The sole topic of conversation was Kelsingra, and where Rapskal and Heeby had been, and why they had not come down to the ship and why they had not returned. Speculation chewed all the theories ragged, with no satisfaction for anyone.

“How long can this go on?” Alise had asked Leftrin when they woke to rain for a third morning. He had looked at her oddly.

“Alise, did you never stop to think why this place is called the Rain Wilds? This is our weather for the winter season. It’s come a bit early, and we may yet have another spate of sunny days. But we may not. The good side of it is that the water is rising and lifting the barge. But that’s also the bad side.”

She had grasped it immediately. “The deeper water may make it easier for Tarman to move. But harder for the dragons.”

Leftrin had nodded grimly. “The dragons need to get out of the water, but we’ve seen no sign of even a muddy beach.” He
rolled from their bed and went to the small window and stared up at the sky. “And I think this downpour is why we didn’t see Heeby and Rapskal yesterday. Even if they could fly through this storm, I wonder if they could find us down here.”

It had rained all night and half the next day. Once, she thought she heard Heeby give a cry overhead, a sound like a distant hawk. But by the time she reached the deck, there was nothing to be seen in the swirling mist. The dragons were looming shapes alongside the barge. Tarman crept along, moving in the general direction of where Heeby had flown. It was hard to keep their bearings in the rain and the fog. The water was slowly becoming deeper, for both barge and dragons, but was it the rain or had they found a hidden channel? Alise was not certain if Tarman followed the dragons, or if the dragons lingered near him, following his lead. She thought she would go mad from the endless pattering of the rain and the uncertainty.

On the fourth night, she awakened to find Leftrin gone. She’d risen swiftly and found her Elderling gown by touch in the dark. A shivering sense of urgency and excitement trembled through her, though she could not name a reason for it. She left the cabin and found a single rushlight burning on a saucer on the galley table. Bellin had just lit it and was standing near it, blinking sleep from her eyes. “Do you know what’s going on?” Alise had asked her.

Bellin shook her head. “Tarman woke me up,” she said quietly. “I’m not sure why.”

Alise pushed the galley door open against the wind’s resistance. The rain struck her full force, a pelting of icy drops that nearly drove her back inside. But Bellin was on her heels, and she would not lose face in front of her. She folded her arms across her chest, bent her head to the driving rain, and felt her way along the deckhouse until she stood on the bow of the ship. Leftrin was there before her. On the deck by his feet, a lone lantern burned the last of their precious oil. Swarge leaned on the railing beside his captain, peering into black night and rain. The skinny shadow clutching herself and shivering proved to be Skelly. As soon as Alise joined the group, Leftrin put a
protective arm around her. It was no shelter from the rain, but it was good to share the warmth of his body.

“What is going on?” she asked. “Why did Tarman wake us?”

He pulled her closer in a happy hug. “There’s a current. A definite current flowing and we’re making our way upriver again. It’s getting deeper and stronger by the moment, but it’s definitely more than the rainfall. This will connect us to another waterway.”

“And the dragons?”

“They’re moving along with us.”

“In the dark?”

“We’ve little choice. At the rate at which the water is rising, we need to find where the bank will be and hug it. If we stand still, chances are we’ll all be swept away.”

She heard what he didn’t say. That if the water rose too rapidly, they might still be swept away. Excitement and tension thrummed through the group. Even before dawn rose, the keepers drifted out to join them. Rain drenched them as they huddled on the bow, peering forward into a future too black to see.

Somewhere, the sun rose. The dragons became silhouettes and then, as the rain lessened and the fog returned, moving shapes. When the rain ceased, Alise realized that she could now hear the moving water. It came from all around them, and that terrified her. What if they could not find the bank? What if they were not venturing toward the side of the flow but toward the middle?

When Leftrin grimly ordered his crew to their poles and told the keepers gruffly to get out of the way, her heart sank. The sun rose higher and more light penetrated the mist. The dragons were silvery shades of their colors as they moved majestically beside and behind the ship. Tarman was clearly leading the way now. Alise retreated to the top of the deckhouse, knowing that however much she wished to be at Leftrin’s side, his ship needed his complete attention now. Some of the keepers had retreated to the galley and crew quarters to be out of the chill, but Thymara sat cross-legged and staring, while a shivering Sylve
stared anxiously at her dragon. The dragons were communicating with one another in low rumbles and occasional whuffs of sound.

Slowly the mist began to rise from the river’s face. It was, unmistakably, a river again. The current was visible as dry leaves and broken stalks were borne swiftly away on its flow. As she watched, the water rose higher and then higher on a bank of reeds, and then suddenly the last tips of the plants vanished under the flow. She could hear Thymara breathing next to her, an anxious quaver in each intake. The clouds must have given way overhead, for suddenly a blast of light diffused in the fog. For six breaths, they moved in a world of silver shimmering droplets. The reflected light dazzled her eyes; she could barely make out the dragons.

“TREES!” The cry was a triumphant trumpeting from Mercor. “Bear left! I see trees again.”

T
HYMARA STARED, TRYING
to make her gaze penetrate the mist. She was cold. She’d wrapped a blanket around her shoulders, but ever since her wings had moved to the outside of her body, she’d felt chilled. She pulled her blanket-cloak tighter, but it only hugged the frigid framework closer to her back. Would she ever become accustomed to them, ever think of them as her own rather than as something Sintara had attached to her body? She wasn’t sure.

She came to her feet at Mercor’s announcement of trees. Silent and yearning, she stared with the others. She felt the barge change course and knew a moment of terror as a strange vibration thrummed through the ship. Her leaping heart identified it; Tarman’s claws were slipping on the bottom as he lost traction. The barge slewed and Swarge yelled, “Doing my best, Cap!” even before Leftrin bellowed his name. There was a spate of loud splashes, and the barge lurched suddenly as Veras brushed past them, scrambling for shallower water. Tarman’s claws caught again and the ship suddenly surged forward so vigorously that Alise sat down hard next to Thymara, who had sunk back down
to the top of the deckhouse. The Bingtown woman didn’t make a sound, only grabbed Thymara’s arm in a painful clench to keep from falling off the deckhouse. An instant later, the motion of the ship suddenly steadied.

The mist burned off as if it had never been. A landscape appeared around them, a place so different that at first Thymara wondered if somehow they’d made a mystical passage to another world. To their right was a river rushing past them, tossing up and carrying off the debris of what had been still swamp but an hour before. The rush of its passage was a loud and joyous noise. To their left, there was a narrower strip of river, rapidly closing as Tarman worked his way closer to the bank. The dragons were moving hastily now, stringing out in a glittering line as they hurried upstream.

But it was the riverbank that Thymara stared at. The land rose. It was not just the trees that towered. The land rose in a way that Thymara had never seen before. She had heard of hills and even mountains and thought she had imagined how they must be. But to stare at land that hummocked upward, higher and higher, was almost more than she could grasp. “Dry land!” Alise breathed beside her. “Tonight we’ll camp on dry land. And build a fire! And walk about without getting muddy! Oh, Thymara, have you ever seen anything so beautiful?”

“I’ve never seen anything so strange,” Thymara whispered in awe.

A wild shrill cry startled everyone aboard the ship. Thymara looked up. Heeby’s scarlet wings were stretched wide against a blue crack in the cloudy sky. She swooped lower and ever closer. Rapskal’s thin shout reached them. “This way! This way!”

“I have never seen anything so beautiful as that,” she whispered, and Alise leaned closer to hug her.

“We’re nearly there. We’re nearly home,” she said, and it did not seem at all a strange thing for her to say.

A
T LEAST SIX
times that day, Rapskal and Heeby flew with them, urging them on and tantalizing them with shouts of “It’s
not far now! A pity you can’t fly!” and other useful bits of information.

As they followed, the land to either side became firmer. The reed beds gave way slowly to ferns and grasses, to boggy meadows and then to low, rolling grasslands that met forested foothills in the distance. The river became wider, and stronger, fed by streams and rivulets as the land rose up around it. The young Rain Wilders had looked out in wonder at vistas and hilly horizons they had heard of in old tales but never seen. They had exclaimed over rocky cliffs seen in the distance, and then shores with sand and rock along the edges. A different sort of forest edged closer to the river, one of small deciduous trees with random groves of evergreen. On one sunny day, a row of toothy mountains had appeared in the distance. And that afternoon they had come to the outskirts of Kelsingra.

Leftrin had nosed Tarman up to the sandy bank. The barge crawled, exhausted, to rest half on the shore and half on the water. The dragons had emerged from the shallows, clambering out and looking around as if they could not believe their good fortune. Most of them promptly found sunning spots and stretched out to rest. Mercor had not paused but had left the water behind, climbing ever higher up the grassy slopes. Sylve had run after him, barely keeping pace with her dragon. The other keepers had climbed down from the barge almost hesistantly and stared around at a landscape completely foreign to them. High up the slope behind them, Mercor had suddenly reared up on his hind legs and trumpeted out his triumph. On the riverbanks below him, the other dragons had lifted their heads and wearily returned his challenge. And Alise had stared, torn between triumph and heartbreak, at the towering ruins of Kelsingra…

On the other side of the swift-flowing river.

“I’
M WRITING IT
down for posterity. Just as we know from the journals and letters of the time how Trehaug was founded, so will my journal one day tell our descendants how Kelsingra was
rediscovered. By you and Heeby. You want your descendants to know that, don’t you?”

She’d had a night and part of a day to recover from her initial disappointment. The city was not that far away. As soon as he could, Leftrin would find a way to get her there. In the meanwhile, he had other duties to his ship, his crew, and the keepers. And so did she. She’d practically had to strong-arm Rapskal to pull him away from the other keepers, but she had insisted. “It has to be recorded, while it is still fresh in your mind. There are so many things that we think we’ll remember clearly, or we think that everyone will ‘always’ know. It won’t take long, Rapskal, I promise. And then whoever comes after us will always know the tale about what you did.”

Now she waited while the boy shifted restlessly and tried to order his thoughts. He had changed so much, and yet so little. His skin was scarlet, scaled fine as a brook trout, and he seemed to have grown. He was leaner and more muscled and completely unaware of how his tattered clothes scarcely covered his flesh.

Rapskal’s uplifted eyes followed Heeby’s flight. The dragon was hunting the hills and cliffs across the river. Alise followed his gaze with longing. It was all there, just as she had seen it in the Elderling tapestry on the walls of the Traders’ Concourse. The sun touched the glittering stone of the map tower and glinted off the domes of the majestic buildings. She longed to be there, to walk the wide streets, to ascend the steps and see what wondrous artifacts the Elderlings had left for them to discover. Leftrin had explained to her a dozen times that the current swept deep and wild along that shore. On this side of the river, it had been easy to nose Tarman ashore. Over there, the current ran swift and deep, and there was nothing to tie the barge to. They’d found the remains of the stone piers that had once run out into the river, but time had worn them and the river had eaten them. Tarman did not trust them, and Leftrin would not ignore his ship’s uneasiness. He had promised Alise that once the ancient docks of Kelsingra had been restored, it would be a fine place to tie up a boat. But for now, for a short time, she was doomed to look on the Elderlings’ side of Kelsingra with longing.