Dragon Spear (21 page)
“Tomorrow,” Amacarin said to Ullalal and her daughters, “you will have a new home.”
She patted him on the foreleg in a way that was both bold and fond. Luka and I shared a look, and then laughed at the expression of surprise on Shardas’s face.
It was Velika who voiced my thoughts: “Having a mate has been most improving for Amacarin.”
N
ot knowing what to expect, we landed to the south of the village that Amacarin and Ullalal had found the day before. Well, Amacarin called it a village, but really it was the same size as Carlieff Town, if not larger. Few of the buildings were taller than two stories, but they were of stone with clay-tile roofs, and the streets were paved with flat, black rocks that were undoubtedly of a volcanic origin.
We startled some strange, long-necked, shaggy creatures that had been grazing in the field, and I swear that one of them spit at Feniul. Hagen slipped off Leontes’s neck and started to follow the creatures into the little copse of trees they had taken shelter in, fascinated, but I called him back.
“They spit,” I said. “They probably bite as well.”
“They are ill-tempered things,” Amacarin agreed. “But I saw someone riding one yesterday. It did not look like a smooth-gaited beast, though.”
Now there was even more longing in Hagen’s face.
Luka started laughing. “I shall buy you one when you finish your apprenticeship,” he told my brother. “It can be your mastery-gift. A hairy, spitting cow- horse.”
“
Unayama
,” Ullalal’s oldest daughter said to me. She pointed at the things. “
Unayama
.”
Vannyn nodded. “Yes, I believe that is what they are called. They are very tough meat, so our ancestors got rid of the ones living on our side of the country. A shame, really. They have such soft fur.”
Our attention was caught by a large group of people streaming out of the town toward us. At their head was a sort of open carriage, draped with fur rugs, and pulled by two proud
unayamas
. More people followed, some on foot, some riding
unayamas
. The people wore brightly colored cloths draped about their hips and sometimes over their chests, but their main covering seemed to be jewelry. Their necklaces were fine, though: gold beads, and red and blue and purple stones. They were a splendid people, rich and proud, and I worried anew for Ullalal and her friends.
But I needn’t have.
When they reached the pasture, the townspeople began to run. With outstretched arms festooned with bracelets, they embraced any human they came upon. There were many tears, and they cried out in a loud singsong, the same words over and over.
At a nudge from Shardas, Amacarin translated.
“They are welcoming the ‘lost ones,’ ” he said, clearly also surprised by the warmth of this welcome. Now many of the townspeople were taking off their own jewelry and putting it on the people with us. I was relieved to see that the dragon-people, as I had come to think of them, also seemed moved, and they handed back their own lesser adornments with tears and kisses.
At last the woman who had ridden in the back of the carriage came forward. She had necklaces so thick across her chest that I wondered how she could stand straight, and there were feathers braided in her graying hair. She called out in an imperious voice, and Amacarin answered, which made her frown. All of the townspeople were studiously ignoring the dragons, and it clearly displeased her to speak to one.
Ullalal also came forward, and with Amacarin’s help spoke to the woman, most certainly the ruler of this place. It was some time before Amacarin had a chance to translate for our benefit, but when he did the gist of it was this:
The magnificent woman was indeed their queen for, like dragons, they were a people ruled by their queens. This was not the largest of her cities, but she had traveled all night so that she might be there to welcome back the lost ones when they arrived. Her people had mourned those enslaved by the dragons for many generations, but knew they had no way to defeat their cousins’ captors. It pleased them greatly to see the dragon-people freed, and they would find homes for all of them. In return they asked that no dragon ever again cross the ravine that divided the land.
Velika, through Amacarin, explained that the volcano had destroyed the lands of the dragons, and that she was now taking them away. She promised, one queen to another, that dragons would not again trouble the humans of this land, and this seemed to satisfy the feather-bedecked ruler.
Evening was coming, and we had barely eaten in days. Amid cries of excitement in their singsong language, the people brought tables and a feast was spread before us. Sides of beef and fruits and vegetables in huge bushel baskets were provided for the dragons, and there was music and dancing.
Luka and I joined the dancing, though we didn’t know the steps. I nearly knocked over a small woman wearing nothing but a red skirt and a necklace of gold beads. She smiled good-naturedly, and soon Luka was dancing with her and I was dancing with a man who was either her husband or her brother.
As dawn touched the tops of the mountains, furs were laid out and we settled down to sleep, not waking until it was nearly noon and the sun could not be ignored any longer. More food was being brought from the town, and Shardas ordered us to eat quickly; he wanted to leave as soon as we were satisfied.
It was time for the dragons to return home.
There were some tears from humans who had been fond of their dragon-masters. I noticed that Ullalal shed none, but her youngest daughter was caught trying to climb into a basket slung over Rannym’s shoulder. In the end the girl was hauled off, weeping, by her sisters. Ullalal herself came forward and thanked Shardas and Velika, bid a fond farewell to Amacarin, and then came to me.
“Thank you,” she said through Amacarin. She gave me a necklace of bone beads and then rejoined her daughters.
Finally Velika took to the air and coolly said that any dragon who did not follow her immediately would be punished. She turned and flew north without looking back. Niva, Leontes, Roginet, Amacarin, Feniul, and Shardas all waited to make sure that the queen’s orders were followed. At last they, too, took to the air, with Luka and me aboard Shardas and Hagen on Leontes, and headed over the ravine and across the fields of cooling lava, toward the distant Far Isles.
T
he reception for the lost ones had been warm, but it was nothing compared to what occurred when we at last reached the Far Isles.
Those dragons who had been left behind were flying patrol, watching for us, and when we arrived there was much roaring and flaming, with one of the sentries streaking back to the shore to take the news to the others. Mates, hatchlings, and friends rushed to meet us.
Gala crashed right into Amacarin, bringing him down into the surf with her in a most undignified tangle. Ria, Feniul’s mate, twined her neck with his in midair, and they landed clumsily on the sand beside their children, who were screaming with shrill delight and doing their best to flame a greeting for their father.
Seeing the net of eggs slung beneath her, an honor guard formed about Velika, guiding her back to the portion of the shore that was her and Shardas’s special place. Solicitous females helped Velika out of the harness and nestled the eggs into the sand. They wanted to take them immediately back to Velika and Shardas’s cave, but both of the royal pair objected.
“Let them rest in the sun,” Velika said. “They have been kept below the earth too much.” She shuddered.
“Who are these strangers?” Gala had released Amacarin, who was now being swarmed by more dragonlets than I could count.
She was staring, as were many of the dragons who had remained on the Far Isles, at the newcomers with us. Brown and green, small, and looking by turns shy or mutinous, they were landing in the water just offshore, uncertain of whether they would be welcomed.
“These are our kin who were lost to us for many years,” Velika said.
I had to admire her regal bearing: after days of flight, after all that she had been through, she sat on the sands like the queen she was and reshaped her people’s lives with a few sentences.
“Their lives have, until now, been vastly different from ours, and we must assist them in learning to enjoy our ways,” she continued. “They will need shelter, and friendship—but I suppose that will come in time.”
Vannyn came forward. “We are most grateful for all that you offer us, Queen Azure-Wing,” he said. “We shall endeavor not to be a burden to you, or to our newfound kin.”
Luka and I were still perched on Shardas’s back, too tired and too tense to dismount. Now that the speeches were done, the dragon midwives were gathering around Velika’s eggs once more.
“Are they all right?” I slid down from Shardas’s back, and found myself swaying until I nearly pitched forward onto my knees.
I felt as though the ash from the volcano would never completely leave my lungs. I was filthy and my clothing was worn to shreds. Riding a dragon was not relaxing: my thighs were stiff from holding on and my hands had been scraped by the edges of more scales and horns than I cared to remember.
“Are they all right?” I repeated the question.
Luka staggered over to me and helped me sit in the sand beside the eggs. Hagen soon joined us, lying down beside the sandy nest with one arm over his eyes.
The midwives tutted, and asked questions about when the eggs had been clutched, and how long they had been carried in a harness. They even knocked on them gently, as though asking if the hatchlings were at home. I started to laugh, weakly, but was brought up short by the sound of knocking from
inside
the eggs.
It seemed that the hatchlings
were
at home, and eager to come out. The midwives clucked in satisfaction, and assured the nervous parents that their dear little ones appeared to be none the worse for their travails.
For the first time since Velika’s abduction, the tension in Shardas’s shoulders seemed to unknot, and he collapsed in the sand beside his children’s eggs. Velika lay beside him and nodded at me in a meaningful way.
Groaning, I lurched to my feet and took charge.
“Thank you, thank you all,” I said loudly. “The king and queen need their rest now. If you will join Prince Luka and me farther down the beach, I’m sure a celebratory feast is in order. The royal family, however, will be dining here. Alone.” I pointed to a half-grown dragon hovering nearby: Gala’s daughter, Riss. “It’s your duty to wait upon them tonight. There will be no questions, no pestering. Bring them food, and then leave. The rest of us will be happy to tell you all that has happened.” I flapped my hands. “Now. Shoo!”
“Masterful dragon herding,” Luka said out of the corner of his mouth as we walked down the beach.
We both stopped to take our shoes off, and I resolved to have someone bring me a large tub and some fresh water so that I could have a proper bath. Just as soon as I ate. And ate. And maybe slept first . . .
“What can I say? It’s a gift,” I replied absently.
I was staring down the beach at the wide expanse of white sand where the dragons had congregated. Someone was building a bonfire; someone else was lighting tall torches set in the sand, for the sun was sinking now. Food was brought, and Ria guided us humans over to a crude log bench and urged us to sit.
“Creel, I can see your brain working,” Hagen said. “What are you plotting now?”
“She is going to overthrow the Triunity,” Luka joked, and then sobered when he saw my brother’s expression of horror. “Not truly, though. Right, Creel?”
“Of course not!” I flapped a hand at him. “It’s just that I was thinking, with the exception of Marta and Tobin and Alle, and Miles and Isla, everyone I really care about is here on this island. But in a few days we’ll be leaving, to go back to the King’s Seat and get married in front of . . .” I hesitated, and then plowed on. “Well, in front of a bunch of near strangers and relations who normally don’t give two pennies about me!” To my surprise, I started to cry. “Shardas and Velika aren’t even welcome in Feravel, let alone in a chapel. How can I get married in a place that doesn’t welcome my friends? No, not friends: they’re my family!”
Luka and Hagen both put their arms around me, awkwardly. Embarrassed, I shook them off, but gently, and busied myself with wiping my face on a filthy sleeve.
“When I proposed, you said you would need to be married outdoors,” Luka said slowly. “Because the head of your family was a dragon. I confess I was startled when you agreed to a chapel wedding so easily.”
“I’ve never heard of anyone getting married outdoors, unless they were Moralienin,” I said. “It’s just not done.”
“Dear, dear sister,” Hagen said with mock sagacity, “after all your boasting that you have set every new fashion in the King’s Seat for the past three years”—I punched his shoulder and he winced but carried on—“you mean to tell me that you can’t start a new fashion for outdoor weddings, too?”
I made as if to punch him again, but didn’t. I was staring down the sand again, at the bonfire, and the torches.
“I don’t know if it will become the fashion,” I said softly, taking Luka’s hand. “But we’re getting married right here,” I continued, in my most no-nonsense tone. “I’m not leaving the Far Isles until we’re married.”
“Done!” Luka kissed me.
“Well, that shuts out our beloved aunt and equally light- minded cousins,” Hagen said. “They’ll never agree to ride a dragon.” He let out a sigh of deep satisfaction as a young dragon brought us a platter of roasted meats and grilled fruit to share. “I might actually enjoy this wedding after all. Caxon knows, the food will be good.”
C
reel! Creel! I knew it! I knew you would get married here! It’s
gorgeous
!”
Marta ran down the beach toward me, waving her hands in the air with glee. She was wearing a pink tunic and trousers and wide ivory colored sash that I strongly suspected she had stolen from my wardrobe.
We hugged fiercely until Tobin came up, and then there was more hugging and the boys tried to outdo each other with backslaps. We were joined by Ria and her children, and there were introductions, interrupted by a high-pitched yapping followed by earsplitting shrieks.