Rise of the Blood Masters (Book 5) (5 page)

Chua was thoughtful for a moment, looking up at the darkening sky. “Elves aren’t wicked, not really… though it does often seem like they are. They have no natural hatred of any race. They’re just impulsive. They don’t consider the consequences of their actions. In a way, they’re like children, or even animals… except they lack the innocence. They’re driven completely by their desires—they’re slaves to them. I don’t envy them. You know, Skera-Kina is probably unaware of her own ancestry. The Balborite priests may not have shared that information with her. She may not even understand why she’s drawn to Tallin. They’re brother and sister. It’s natural for them to be drawn to one another. They’re both powerful mageborns, which means their bond is even stronger than normal siblings. Their encounters aren’t accidental. They’ll keep happening because of their blood ties.”

“Ye’re right…  I know, I know.” She sighed.

Chua gave her an understanding smile. “Don’t be so hard on yourself over this. You did the best you could, and your sister’s choices were outside of your control.”

Gazing up at the sky, she sighed heavily. Dark clouds rolled in from a distance. “The wind’s kicking up. It’s getting rougher. There’s a storm brewing.”

“You’re right. I can smell it in the air. The storm will arrive before dawn tomorrow morning.” Chua reached for her, squeezing her hand. “Look… you tried to spare Tallin some heartbreak. Perhaps you wanted to salvage some of your family’s honor, but avoiding this problem has only prolonged your pain. Misfortune falls on everyone. It’s best to deal with it when it happens. I understand the burden that you carry in your heart, but you must tell Tallin the truth. You must tell him that Skera-Kina is his sister.”

Captured

              Duskeye dipped and dove through the clear blue sky, his sapphire-blue wings muscular and rigid as they picked up the wind.  Tallin smiled as he clutched the saddle. He felt great. They flew toward a small cliff at the forest’s edge.

              As they got closer, a solitary cave, its narrow opening scorched and riddled with claw marks, appeared in the distance. Duskeye flew toward it. When they landed, Tallin leapt from the saddle with excitement.

“Great to be back.” Tallin said, his eyes glued to the entrance. They waited outside a short distance away from the cave’s mouth for the female dragon to wake up from her nap. Soon they heard scrabbling inside the cave.

Tallin walked away, moving behind a large boulder and crouching down behind it. The dragons desired some privacy, and while he desperately wanted to see the eggs, he didn’t want to upset Shesha.

Shesha shuffled outside and yawned before approaching Duskeye. She purred and nuzzled Duskeye’s neck, and the two dragons spoke softly to one another. Tallin caught snippets of their conversation, but most of what they discussed couldn’t be heard over the light winds. Tallin peeked through some branches and watched Shesha sniff the air before glaring in his direction.

Shesha let out a throaty growl.
“I can smell the fleshling. Your human is here.”

“Yes, he is here,”
Duskeye admitted, a bit sheepishly.
“We came together.”

“
Humph!”
Shesha snorted.
“Why do you spend so much time with that fleshling creature? What is he to you?”

“He is my rider and my companion,”
Duskeye explained.
“Do you see my dragon stone? See how it is carved? Tallin wears the other half of the stone on his chest. We are bound together for life. Tallin will not harm you, or your nest. I swear to you, upon my life. We are here together for the same purpose, and right now, that is protecting your eggs.”

Shesha’s eyes narrowed. It was obvious she would need more convincing. Shesha opened her mouth to protest further, but stopped herself.
“I’m going hunting,”
was all she said.

Duskeye looked relived. He didn’t want to have another argument about humans.
“Fly east; you’ll find game there. I saw a flock of geese near the beaver dam. They looked fat and delicious.”

“Would you... like to accompany me?"
she asked, fluttering her eyes.

“I would love to join you,”
he replied,
“but I prefer to stay here and watch the nest.
Our most important work is guarding the eggs.”

The female shuffled her feet and nodded.
“I understand,”
she said quietly.
“I appreciate your help, and even the help your fleshling attempts to give—even if he is bothersome at times.”

They spoke in hushed tones for a few moments more, and then Shesha opened her wings and flew away to catch her breakfast. Tallin stood up, brushed himself off, and went to join Duskeye at the cave’s entrance. “How is she?”

Duskeye shrugged.
“About the same, I suppose. She’s nervous, but not anymore than usual. The hatchlings aren’t ready to come out yet. It’s colder here than in the desert, so the eggs will take longer to hatch.”

“We’ll make sure all the hatchlings survive,” Tallin said. “I swear it.” Nothing was more important to him.

Ever since he laid eyes on the nest, he couldn’t bear to leave it unguarded. Tallin wanted to stand right over the eggs and protect them himself. Tallin peeped inside to catch a glimpse of the eggs. He was fascinated by the nest, and he longed to touch their smooth shells, but he didn’t dare. Of course, the female would never allow it, which is why he kept his distance. Tallin was only allowed at the cave when Duskeye was present.

Shesha was deathly afraid of humans and barely tolerated Tallin’s presence. It was already a delicate state of affairs, and Tallin didn’t know how much more interference Shesha would tolerate, so he did his best to stay out of sight.

His worry only made the anticipation worse; it was terrible and exciting at the same time. He couldn’t wait for the eggs to hatch, and every day he had to spend waiting loomed ahead of him like some vast ocean he had to cross.

Despite his fears, Tallin was hopeful. This clutch of eggs was the first he had seen in decades. It was the first step in bringing dragons back from the brink of extinction.

It was a miracle, but the situation was still very precarious. There was still only a small chance that the dragon race could be saved; in order for that to happen, all these eggs would have to hatch and then mature into adult dragons. Tallin was determined to make it happen.
“I’ll save them, even if it costs me my life!”

It was the first time in generations that anyone felt hope about the dragons.  Days ago, Tallin risked sending a bird messenger to Parthos, the desert city where the other dragon riders made their home. Tallin notified the riders of the nest’s existence. They sent back enthusiastic and congratulatory messages for Duskeye, with a bit of harmless teasing thrown in for good measure. 

Everyone wanted to come and see the nest, but Tallin advised against it, advising them that the female was very skittish, which they all understood. He left the nest’s precise location a secret. Considering the situation—and what had happened to dragons in the past—he knew that being overly cautious wasn’t a bad thing.

Tallin crept over to the entrance again and peeked inside. The nest was huge— a loosely constructed collection of grass, twigs, and soft fibers, all packed together in a disk-shaped mass. The interior was lined with clay, which had dried into a hard lining. The nest was tucked into a corner at the very back of the cave.

Ten eggs rested inside, a gleaming rainbow of shining colors. Their smooth surfaces reflected light beautifully, even in the near darkness.

He counted them again. Ten eggs. “It still amazes me to see them. I wish they would hatch sooner, though. The long wait is nerve wracking.”

“A few may hatch early,”
Duskeye replied.
“They usually do. And when the first ones come out, you’ll get a chance to interact with the hatchlings. Dragons have ravenous appetites when they’re born, so Shesha will go looking for food immediately. Newborns can’t fly until their wing bones develop, so you’ll have a captive audience whenever she goes hunting, at least for a few weeks.”

Smiling, Tallin walked back to the shade, thinking about dragons.

They stayed to guard the nest until Shesha returned, sitting in the forest shade and enjoying the breeze. Duskeye nodded off and Tallin read an old book Chua had lent him.  All was peaceful, and for a few hours, Tallin was able to keep his mind occupied with something other than his obsession with the nest.

Shesha returned in the late afternoon, carrying a gleaming fish in her jaws. Tallin didn’t have a chance to hide before she landed, but she didn’t say anything. As usual, Shesha ignored Tallin completely. She merely sniffed the air with distaste, and then shuffled over to talk to Duskeye.

Duskeye rose up when he saw her, but he kept his head bowed with respect.
“Your hunt was a success, I see
.
Were you able to find the geese?”

Shesha dropped the fish from her mouth.
“Yes, they were by the river, as you said. I caught a few, but the meat was tough. I prefer younger birds. I went to the lake and caught some fish instead. They’re spawning now, so they’re easy pickings. I plucked this one from the water like it was nothing.”
She smiled at Duskeye proudly.
“This one is bursting with roe, and I saved it for last. It’s sure to be delicious. Would you like to share it with me?”

Duskeye looked back at Tallin, who was now waiting at the opposite end of the cave again, with his body politely turned away from the dragons. Duskeye could tell he was restless—he was tapping his foot so vigorously that his boot was making little clouds of dirt.
“I’m sorry, Shesha. I would love to join you, but I must go. My rider hasn’t eaten all day, and I know he’s hungry. It would be unfair of me.”

“Humph! That’s fine, then. I’ll just enjoy my fish alone!”
She turned her back and swept past him without a backward glance.

Duskeye sighed and went to join Tallin.
“Well, she’s back and as usual, a little bit cross. Shall we go? Shesha will be fine on her own for a while. I could use something to eat myself.”

The sun sparkled orange as it dipped below the horizon. “A quick hunt sounds like a good idea. I’m starving.” Tallin glanced up at the sky. There was an odd grey color to the clouds. “There’s rain coming though.”

Duskeye motioned to his rider, pointing at his back.
“Hop on—we can beat the storm. Small game is plentiful in this forest. We’re bound to catch something.”

“All right,” Tallin agreed with a smile. “Let’s get moving.” He grabbed his sword from his saddlebags and briefly drew it out of its scabbard. Flashes of light glinted off the blade. The sword was beautiful—a dwarvish creation and a great source of pride for him and his family. Tallin slipped the sword back into its scabbard and tucked it into his bags.

“There’s an open meadow a little farther west,”
offered Duskeye.
“I’ve had good luck hunting just about everything out there, including deer and rabbit.”

“Sure, let’s try it. Lead the way.” Tallin adjusted his saddle and mounted Duskeye’s back. They took off into the sky, rising high above the forest canopy.

They flew toward the field, wind whipping through Tallin’s red curls. He enjoyed the feel of the air lashing against his skin—the feel of flying.  Again, Tallin grinned and found himself wishing that their flight would go on forever. To touch the skies; to fly into the clouds with the birds, the feeling was absolutely liberating. Tallin raised his face to the setting sun.

At last, he felt happy.

As they approached the field, Duskeye circled down through a break in the trees. Fed by a spring of clear water, a tiny creek flowed in the center of the meadow. Tallin dismounted, knelt down, and scooped bubbling water into his cupped hands. Duskeye joined him, and they drank together.

Tallin spotted a tangled mass of lingberry bushes at the edge of the clearing. Ripe and filled with juice, the berries dangled down from the branches in thick clusters. If the hunt didn’t go well, they could at least pick berries. Even from a distance, he could see there were enough of them to fill a dozen baskets.

Duskeye looked around and sniffed the air, a puzzled expression developing on his face.
“Odd. There’s a strange fragrance here that I can’t identify.”

Tallin pointed to a thicket of vivid wildflowers across the meadow. “It’s probably those purple blooms. They have a strange smell. Like cow dung.” He crinkled his nose. “They don’t smell very good.” 

“No, it’s not that. I can’t place the smell, but I know it. I remember it, but from where?”
Duskeye looked around sharply.

Tallin shrugged. “Come on, let’s get moving. I bet there’s plenty of game down that path.”

Duskeye opened his jaws to respond, but Tallin was already walking into the trees. Duskeye followed, his good eye moving warily from side to side. The light was waning quickly, and their eyes adjusted to the darkness.

They followed a narrow trail which led deeper into the forest. Tallin moved onto the path, and Duskeye crawled along behind him. Pointing at the path, Tallin said, “I recognize this track. It’s an ancient one. If you follow it long enough, it eventually leads to the southern ocean. I’ve hunted here before, many years ago, before I was even a rider. There are excellent hunting grounds here.”

It turned dark, and the moon rose in the sky, giving off a silver light. The surrounding forest pushed in on them from all sides, the branches brushing against their bodies. The underbrush grew across the path, forming tangles that made it difficult to walk.

Their progress slowed to a crawl, and Tallin pulled out his sword to slash away obstructing foliage. Overhead, a thick lattice of branches filtered the moonlight to a trickle, making it impossible to tell the time. More and more trees crowded the way, their roots rising up like giant earthworms on the trail.