On Fire’s Wings (31 page)

T
he Great Dragon had no trouble finding a place to come to earth. The clanspeople had fled from his descent, creating a clearing. It landed gracefully for so mammoth a creature, and folded its wings with the delicacy and fastidiousness of a sparrow. It raised its mighty head and surveyed them with yellow eyes.

Moving as surely and as gracefully as the Dragon, Kevla Bai-sha dismounted easily. She stood straight and tall, no sign of fear or arrogance in her gaze. Instead, Tahmu noticed a confidence he had never before seen in her.

She stood patiently, waiting for the cries of fear and wonder to fade. When at last there was silence, she spoke.

“We all know the stories,” she said in a clear voice that carried on the still desert air. “It is said that when the Great Dragon leaves his home in Mount Bari, the end of the world is near. But I am here to tell you that this is only partially true. The world will indeed end, if something is not done to prevent it. And we can do something to prevent it.”

She began to walk the circumference of the crowd, her eyes singling out those Tahmu knew to be Lorekeepers. “You were born to prevent it,” she said to a young five-score girl. The girl smiled tremulously. “And you,” she said to the
khashim
of the Star Clan, “and you,” to Melaan. “All of you who have had the dreams that have made you afraid to speak your truth. You have dreamed the fate of worlds before, and the possible fate of this one. I honor you, Lorekeepers.”

She brought her hands to her heart and bowed deeply. “The creature before you is indeed the Great Dragon of our legends, but he is also part of me. He is Fire, and I am Fire, sent to heal.

“I am the Flame Dancer, the element of fire clothed in flesh. I have kindred—the Stone Dancer, the Sea Dancer, the Wind Dancer, and the Soul Dancer. We five and our Companions, beings like the Dragon, will stand to save this world from the coming of the Shadow. But we cannot do it without our Lorekeepers. Melaan, take up this tale.”

Melaan rose to her challenge and began to speak. “Four times before, a world has been created and the Dancers have tried to earn it permanence. Twice they have succeeded. Twice, they have failed. This time is the final Dance. If the Dancers succeed, then this world and the two others who have been spared will be allowed to continue. If they fail, all will be obliterated.”

“Mirya, take up the tale,” Kevla said, turning to the little five-score girl.

She swallowed hard, and spoke in a nervous voice. “The Lorekeepers have the knowledge of what has gone before. We were born to help the Dancers succeed by keeping that lore from being forgotten and lost forever.”

Kevla smiled approvingly at the girl. “It's my understanding from the Dragon, and from what the Lorekeepers have told me, that other civilizations were wiser than we,” she said. “They respected what their Lorekeepers said, they sought out and protected their Dancers. But we here in Arukan have been foolish. We suppressed our Lorekeepers. Called them mad.”

Her eyes met those of her father's, and it was with difficulty that Tahmu did not avert his gaze.

“Called them
kulis,
” Kevla said. “When I came into my powers, I was afraid and ashamed of them. It is only thanks to Jashemi-kha-Tahmu, the man who began this uniting of the clans, that I can now stand before you.” She paused, and Tahmu saw her swallow hard, saw the pain in her eyes; pain he knew matched his own. Perhaps even exceeded it.

“It is with deep grief that I tell you that Jashemi is dead. He gave his life in order that I might finally understand who and what I am—who and what the Lorekeepers are. He believed that our powers had surfaced at this time because Arukan is in great danger. Our enemies have long been one another, but that cannot be allowed to continue. We must stand together, stand strong, against the enemy that approaches from over the mountains.

“Some of you may have noticed that there are a few clans who are not represented here today. It's not because they were afraid to come. It is because the armies of the Emperor have destroyed them. Those who did not die were taken and forced to serve beneath the standard of the ki-lyn. You know the flag I speak of, and yes, that strange creature has a name. There is a saying that we all know.”

She paused and turned to the Dragon, who was watching her attentively. Kevla smiled at him and stroked him affectionately. “‘When the Great Dragon rouses,'” she quoted, “‘None shall stand against his flame.'”

Tahmu could have sworn the creature winked. Kevla turned to face the crowd again.

“That saying is true. The Dragon has roused, and the armies of the Emperor shall not stand against his flame.”

“How do we know this is true?” came a frightened voice from the crowd. All heads turned to see who had spoken. It was a high-caste youth from the
Sa'abah
Clan. He was a little younger than Kevla and looked both defiant and frightened.

“Raka,” Melaan began.

“No! How do we know this isn't all a lie? How do we know that she
isn't
a
kuli,
casting some sort of spell on us to dream the dreams she wants?”

“You see before you the Great Dragon,” Kevla answered calmly. “Do you doubt the evidence of your own eyes?”

The boy lifted his chin defiantly, but Tahmu could see that he trembled.

“No one can subdue the Great Dragon. Maybe this is a spell, too. Maybe this isn't the Great Dragon at all, but an illusion that—”

The Dragon's serpentine head whipped around and he snorted, smoke erupting from his nostrils. Faster than Tahmu would have thought possible for so huge a creature, the Dragon moved toward the boy. It reached out a clawed foreleg, closed it around the terrified Raka, and lifted him high off the ground as it sat on its haunches. Raka was too frightened even to resist, and stared slack-jawed into the Great Dragon's golden eyes.

“Do I
look
like an illusion, boy?”

Raka started crying. The Dragon rolled his eyes. He gently put the boy back down on the sand and gave him an absentminded pat. Raka's legs gave way and he sat down hard on the sand. He was completely unharmed; the Dragon had obviously intended only to intimidate. Which, Tahmu mused as he looked at the faces around him, it had done very effectively.

“I can prove to you that what I say is true,” said Kevla quickly, hastening to the Dragon and laying a tempering hand on his foreleg. “Tonight, the
khashim
of each clan will select someone he trusts. We will fly over the mountain and I will show you the army that is coming.”

The Dragon turned to look at Kevla. He seemed displeased. “None but the Flame Dancer has ever sat upon my back,” he said in a warning voice.

“Dragon,” she said pleadingly, “you know as well as I what awaits these people. We cannot waste precious time convincing them that what we say is true. Please. As a favor to me.”

If Tahmu had not seen it, he would not have believed it. The Great Dragon's harsh expression, for it had expressions as versatile as any human's, softened with affection.

“I can deny you nothing, Flame Dancer,” he said. Turning back to the crowd, the Dragon bellowed, “Those of you who will sit upon my back tonight are honored beyond any men before. Burn this voyage into your memory, for your children's children will tell the tale of this night and the battle that awaits.”

 

While they waited for nightfall, Kevla permitted herself to be amused by the homage the people paid their Great Dragon. Once they had gotten over the initial shock of seeing a creature out of legend in the flesh, many felt compelled to prostrate themselves at his feet. With a glint of laughter in his golden eyes, he respectfully listened to them, absolved them of any wrongdoings, real or imagined, and told them to listen to Kevla, for she was in charge now. They came with offerings of beautiful carvings and pots, water, and food, all of which the Dragon graciously refused.

“Your people need this more than I,” he said. “Your sacrifice is noted, but take it back now that I have witnessed it. Feed your people.”

When the last supplicant had reluctantly gathered his food and returned to his clan, the Dragon looked at Kevla ruefully.

“Is it hard, being a god?” she said with mock sympathy.

He sighed, blowing a gust of fiery breath over her. “You have no idea.”

She also approached and welcomed her Lorekeepers. Some of them still seemed reticent, others eagerly went to her, even embraced her. She found she gravitated to Melaan. This was the man Jashemi had trusted, and as Second of a powerful clan, he had no small amount of influence. At one point, their eyes met and he nodded. Even without words, she knew what he was communicating: he would be there for her, at her right hand, no matter what came.

At last, Kevla judged that it was sufficiently dark. She was pleased that the moon was well on the wane. The last thing she wanted was to alert the Emperor or his armies that the foolish, scattered clans of Arukan knew about their approach—and had a dragon at their disposal.

She created several pillars of free-standing flame to illuminate the clearing in which the Dragon sat. She did so with an extra flamboyance, so that those gathered could see her powers.

Oh, Jashemi. Once, we were so afraid of our abilities; we hid them, we lied about them. Now, look at what I am doing. Look at how proud these people are to be Lorekeepers. I wish I could share this sweet moment with you.

Kevla stepped forward and surveyed the crowd. “The time has come,” she said. “Who among you is brave enough to ride the Dragon?”

One person strode forward boldly. “I will ride the Dragon, with the Flame Dancer,” said Tahmu-kha-Rakyn.

She gave him a grateful smile. Now others too came forward, until there were over a dozen. Still more came.

The Dragon arched an eyebrow. “My, you people have a lot of clans, don't you?”

“Dragon, can you bear so many?” Kevla asked solicitously.

He looked indignant. “I am not a mere
sa'abah.
I am the Great Dragon, a creature of magic. I will bear what I need to bear, as, my dear, will you. Well, let's be about it then.”

With a grunt, he lowered himself to the earth, crouching on his haunches with his forelegs extended straight out in front of him. Even so, it was no easy feat for the men to clamber aboard his back. Kevla waited until they had all mounted, watching with satisfaction as fear turned into awed delight. Then she stepped astride the Dragon's lowered neck. Her father—
ai
, it was still so strange to think of the powerful Tahmu-kha-Rakyn that way—sat behind her.

Turning to look at the men, she called, “You must hold tightly to one another. You have been enemies before, but now your life depends on the man in front of and behind you. Grasp the Dragon's spine ridges as well, you won't hurt him.”

When her father made no move to secure himself to her, she looked over her shoulder at him.

“It's all right,” she said softly, for his ears alone. “You once put your arm around me like this to keep me from falling from Swift. Let me return the favor now.”

An odd look passed over his face, then he nodded impassively. His strong arms went around her waist, and for an instant, she became that little girl again, spinning a marvelous fantasy about being the
khashim's
daughter. She wondered if he, too, was reliving that moment.

But that was long ago, and the success of her journey now would affect more lives than those of herself and her father. She faced forward. When she was convinced they were ready, she nodded to the Dragon. She felt him gather himself, trying to adjust to the extra weight of so many riders. His big sides swelled, then subsided as he drew and expelled a breath. He lowered his head, and she sensed—there was no other word for it—the Dragon willing himself to carry this strange new weight. Then, as gently and smoothly as he could, the mighty creature leaped skyward.

Kevla smothered a grin as she heard gasps and oaths behind her. Her father tightened his grip around her waist reflexively, then she felt him force himself to relax.

She permitted herself to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling of the night wind on her face. How she loved this! The moment she had first tentatively mounted the Dragon, she felt an immediate sense of familiarity. She knew exactly how to balance herself and had a complete trust in her friend. The men behind her quieted, but she knew they were still anxious.

It was so peaceful, so quiet up here, away from the noises of the earth. The only sound was the steady, powerful rhythm of the Dragon's wings, and her own breath. Upward he went, until the campfires of the clans were nothing but tiny specks.

Now the Dragon gently turned toward the mountain range. It was strange to behold them, seemingly so tiny, when for so many centuries their fearsome, jagged peaks had effectively protected Arukan from the rest of the world. Mount Bari loomed over the rest as the Dragon approached the place that had been his home for so long.