A Hatchling for Springtide (Santaclaws Book 2)

by Marc Secchia

  “Wouldn’t dare,” Kalar said wryly, plucking her up like a doll and popping her onto the pony.

  “Actual obedience? Inconceivable,” Keir drawled.

  That collected him one filthy glare!

  Auroral Storm Diamond nosed at his pack. He helped her inside with care for her damaged ribs and now her injured paw. She settled down with a grunt of pain, her scales as lacklustre as he had ever seen. He rubbed her neat ruff of skull spikes. “Ye did well, tackling a wolfhound three times yer size. Feisty and furious lass, say I.”

  A true daughter of storm, he decided. Imagine her at ten times this size? She’d be eating wolfhounds for breakfast.

  The hatchling purred contentedly.

  “Now, get some rest – and stop yer bothering at that paw. It needs to heal.”

  Stubborn as Mauve was high and the night was long. She actually bared her fangs at him!

  As the small cavalcade got underway again, leaving behind a mess of bodies for the scavengers, a new reflection crossed his mind. “Dad, where would these sellswords have found a pack of war-trained wolfhounds? And a handler?”

  He collected a knowing look.

  “Oh. Oh! Stars alive, I feel stupid. Does that mean we cannae trust Good King Daryan?”

  Kalar said roughly, “Him, I’d trust beyond the borders of Tyanbran. Now’t so much the rest of that cowardly, conniving pack of blowhards, son. I mislike the stench of these politics. And when they threaten those dearest to my bosom …” His fingers stroked the shaft of his axe. “I just want to ken which of those two-tongued snakes arranged this little welcoming party. Is that too much to ask?”

  Shanryssill added quietly, “Furthermore, we must be on our guard even amongst the Elves. Our Aryssillati Clan is now’t a powerful one, nor allied with any of the great Elven powers. Keir – like jungle vines, will be their plans for ye and yer dragonet. Mark my words.”

  Oof. He made a face. Full of cheer, his parents!

  Keir swept ahead to scout, reflecting upon the incongruity of carrying a mighty Dragon tucked in his backpack. He considered the shadowy forces gathering about and against him and his family. It was hard to imagine now that an enemy did not hide behind every bush. Overexceited kittens were less jumpy than him. Grim images swirled through his mind. The gathering Darkfall of war. His half Elven heritage, despised by people he had considered friends and neighbours. A jewel from the sky. A family now fleeing for their lives.

  Sigh. The whys and the wherefores could preoccupy him another day. Right now, they had many miles to cover while it was yet dark.

  Chapter 10: Assemblage

  AN HOUR AFTER DAWN, the family halted in a sheltered dell where Lead Scout Keir had discovered a good haul of deadfall wood. They cleared a space of snow and placed blankets and packs for Rhyl to lie down upon. She was deathly pale but determinedly cheerful. The twins woke complaining of the ‘dreadful hungries in our tummies,’ and with them the mewling fluff monsters, and so breakfast became a busy affair. Shanryssill, who possessed trail-craft to spare, swiftly had a pot bubbling upon a small fire, and they broke their fast by sharing a simple meal of bread, soft cheeses and fragrant Elven tea together.

  Rhyl made a face at her mug. “This tastes worse even than one of my best brews.”

  Shanryssill threw her a look more pointed than any Elf’s ear.

  “I was just drinking up.”

  “What a lovely niece ye are. My favourite.”

  Keir began, Something for –

  Tetanus, aye, said his mother. We use tincture of arambith –

  Arambith flower? Rhyl chuckled. Here I was trying to decide what tasted like an Ogre’s breakfast. Keir, arambith is a carnivorous flower that exudes a scent often compared to rotting flesh in order to attract insects.

  Finish the whole mug, Shanryssill said sharply, but not without a smile. You too, Kalar-my-shield.

  What are a few more scars to me? he snorted, but pinched his nose shut as he tipped up his own mug. Wyverns’ breakfasts, that’s a whiff to savour, eh?

  His wife pursed her lips.

  Pinching his nose, Kalar manfully drained his mug to the dregs.

  It was still a particular joy to see his mother so very alive, so tan of cheek and bright of eye. Keir kept finding himself searching for that hint of grey in her skin, but it had fled, like the winter would in a few months’ time. Auroral Storm Diamond still slept in his pack. Her radiance struck him as frightfully dim. He popped her as near to the fire as he dared, hoping that warmth did miraculous things to draconic bodies. Narini and Arami wanted a romp in the snow, but soon after breakfast fell to yawning and saying they were sleepy.

  Swiftly on.

  Kalar taught the girls a marching song as they rode along in their panniers. At least, it was the polite version of a song Prince Garyan’s soldiers had been fond of. After a couple more hours on the trail, Narini swapped onto the pony with Shanryssill so that Rhyl could curl up in the pannier. Kalar rearranged a few provisions, while Keir eyed her arm pensively. Blood stained the cream-coloured bandages. Gaah! What a moron, pinning her with an arrow on top of that savage bite. Not the best form.

  He had forgotten how slow travel with ponies could be. It was late afternoon by the time they sighted the hamlet where Harik and Meritha lived, and then his father bade them wait in a concealed draw until after nightfall before they snuck down through the stone-walled fields, keeping well under cover and still sweeping their tracks assiduously. The blustering wind had earlier given way to a noon snowfall, but now the skies were clearing from the East. The dragonet stirred against his back and soon, her hot breath tickled his ear as she stood upright on her hind paws, gazing over his shoulder.

  Much better. His spirits rose.

  “Ye were here before as an egg, ye remember?” Keir told her. “These are good folks. Friends. Now, they’ve a number of pets that ye are neither to fight with nor to eat, alright?”

  Keee-irr frr … frrrn … frr-nee?

  Her growth might have paused, but her varied noises had suddenly begun to resolve into understandable words. Positively chatty!

  He snorted, “Keir’s funny? Eh? Ye wee scrap o’ trouble! I’ll give ye ow’t that’s funny.”

  Auroral Storm Diamond did not seem to have worked out that Human and Elven were two different languages as yet, but he assumed she would in time. That was the Elven form of ‘funny;’ she sounded it out clearly enough.

  Wirrit? she asked, another new word.

  To his surprise, her fore-talon pointed away to his right in a startlingly Human-like gesture.

  “What’s that?” he echoed, after scanning the starry expanse for a second. “That’s the Dragon’s Head Nebula, darling, just poking his head above the peaks. It’s a Dragon just like ye, only, that one’s made of stars – uh, I think. The stars are the eyes, but I’m now’t sure anyone could tell ye for certain what the rest is. It looks like a cloud of turquoise and purple dust through the telescope in the castle’s observatory. Prince Zyran showed me once.”

  Her fiery eyes turned to darker shades of burnt orange and red.

  Keir searched her pensive expression. “What is it, darling?”

  Zzz-rrrin whrrr? she asked.

  “Zyran’s now’t coming – he cannae come with us, my fire-heart. Nae, darling. It cannae be this time, or Rhyl and he both might be in grave danger.”

  Her head swung about. Touching her muzzle to his cheek, she vocalised clearly, Riril? Orrr … Riril?

  She might as well have reached inside his chest and squeezed his heart between her tiny paws. Hot emotion prickled in his throat. “Aye. That’s right. Rhyl is feeling sad that Zyran cannae be here.” His cousin did not so much as quiver, but somehow, Keir sensed she must be awake and listening. “Dinnae ye worry yerself none. If that scruffy royal dirtbag knows what’s good for him, he will come for his beloved when he can. When it wouldn’t endanger the Kingdom any worse than it is already. Duty is hard sometimes.”

  Riril sss … ess …
sss-ree?

  Sad? Sorry? What was clear, was her deep concern for the Elfmaiden. Unslinging his pack, Keir scooted up to the pony carrying his cousin, and helped Auroral Storm Diamond alight gingerly onto its back. “Och aye, why dinnae ye give our Rhyl a nice Dragon-sized cuddle, and ye two can have one of those girl talk … things. Ye ken. Endless waffling on about diamonds and shiny scales and random girly stuff. How ye fill yer hours, I will never understand.”

  His cousin teased, “For a lad with two little sisters, ye sure have a few things to learn about girls, Keir.”

  She cuddled the dragonet close with her good arm. That toothy smile in the crook of her elbow looked impenitently smug. The intense patterns of her pupils and their surrounding fires modulated as if she responded to Rhyl’s feelings – or, might she be searching for a way to expend her healing magic? Aye. Subtle pearls of light teased his eyes, making him blink in consternation as he wished he could help in some way – lend her his greater strength, or help her heal, too.

  He said, “How could I fail to learn with the likes of ye two instructing me?”

  Miss Diamond Scales favoured this with a snooty sniff. His cousin did not even bother. Instead, she checked the hind paw and told Keir that the bandage had gone missing. He checked his backpack. Nothing.

  “Indeed?”

  The dragonet showed him a full set of very, very sharp white fangs. Stuck near the back on the right was a scrap of cream bandage.

  “Oh, aye? Just wait until my mother thrashes yer behind, ye scaly rapscallion!”

  Rap-scaly-on? He chuckled to himself. Indeed!

  Aye, and here he was threatening a two-month-old with his mother’s wrath. Truly stepping out there, o mighty warrior! Was it wrong of him to want to leave this parenting lark, well, to his parents? At least they knew what they were doing. Mostly. The rest of it reeked of being concocted on the fly, but – could he have done any better?

  He sincerely doubted it.

  * * * *

  Hours of travel and a joyous arrival later, seven dogs, five kittens, four lads and their two parents gaped in unabashed awe at the gleaming visitor who had just claimed their hearthstone with an insouciant, even despotic air. Curling up with her head curved about to rest upon her tail, she presented the audience with a picture of the very epitome of hatchling innocence. Keir was not fooled in the slightest. Those slit eyes? That subtle tilt of her paw? She knew exactly what she was playing at.

  He said, “This is Auroral Storm Diamond. As ye can see, she thinks she owns yer house already. I advise ye now’t to give in to too many of her whims.”

  “Like ye dinnae, lad?” his father needled.

  Shanryssill’s laughter trilled above the general hubbub. So supportive, he grouched inwardly. Glad he could rely upon his parents not to drop him in the soup at the least opportunity.

  Harik beamed and gave Kalar the biggest hug available anywhere along the Amarinthian Bulwark. “Come here, ye old hank of Ogre sinew! Glad to see yer stumping about again, all bluster and bark, Commander. Where’s that wee wifely wonder of yers?”

  “Here.”

  Shanryssill had almost vanished into a Meritha hug.

  “Cannae leave a man without a proper hug and a wee kiss on the bottle-brush,” he boomed, indicating his bearded cheek. He stooped low to collect his due.

  The house kittens had now discovered the Sabarikan Mountain Cats, who, despite their relatively giant stature in kitten terms, appeared delighted to encounter a squad of eager playmates. Instantly, a game of feline paw-pat tag developed beneath the kitchen table.

  In stark contrast, the seven dogs clustered together at the far end of the room, looking deeply miffed about recent developments in their lives. They cast their owners soulful looks as if to say, ‘What kind of canine lovers are ye, letting a Dragon into our territory? That creature’s terribly dangerous! Would ye look at her fangs and talons?’ A moment later, pandemonium ensued as all seven canines decided to raise the alarm at once. Not that they were going anywhere near the hearth, but they were working their way into a decent communal lather when the dragonet squirmed onto her back, stretched her spine in a leisurely manner, and fixed her most compelling, pyretic gaze upon the cacophonous chorus.

  All seven whined at the same time.

  She narrowed her eyes.

  The dogs settled back on their haunches, and then lay down on their bellies. Silently. Eyes fixed upon the draconic interloper with unwavering respect.

  Shanryssill chortled, “Guess who’s just declared herself queen of this roost? What d’ye have to say on this score, son?”

  Keir did not know where to look.

  After a suitably stately pause, the dragonet roused herself and sashayed over to the dogs, where she loftily accepted their show of grovelling and whining self-abasement – despite that five of the dogs were at least twice if not three times her size – and then they all sniffed each other’s mentionables and unmentionables, made friends, and finally lay down in a messy huddle back near the fireplace. Auroral Storm Diamond appropriated the best spot. Naturally.

  Was this a developing theme?

  He ruffled his spiky hair, and asked Meritha if he could help with anything.

  With three sets of twins about the house, plus all the animals, the place could have turned into a madhouse, but Harik had several anna back hit upon the idea of converting their attached barn into a – well, an everything room, for want of a better word. Stacks of hay still stood stored near the back, but a ladder led up to a spacious play loft where the lads had installed a fort with a touch of fatherly ingenuity. The hay was for jumping into from a height of twelve feet or so, more than enough to give Narini the heebie-jeebies, while Arami was already trying out double somersaults and laying plans for a triple.

  The barn also boasted a drive-in workshop area where Harik plied his trade as a carpenter and cart-maker, a section for storage, and a full-blown brewery which operated throughout the summer, when the weather was warm enough. Keir knew his father well enough to predict that there would be some generous ‘sampling’ going on when the children were in bed later.

  ‘Sun’s down, bottoms up,’ the men would toast each other with foaming tankards in hand. ‘A dram in the hand’s worth two in the tum. Santazathiar’s claws! That’s a good brew.’

  Shooing a few dogs aside, Shanryssill installed Rhyl on the faded green couch next to the fireplace, and set about checking her wounds.

  “Ye were shot, my lovey?” Meritha cooed from over by the stove, where she was doing something magical with bread-baking and whipping up a hearty yak-meat stew at the same time.

  “Och aye, that she was,” Rhyl growled, giving Keir twenty daggers-worth of a stare. “Dinnae ye look!”

  “Now’t to see. Just yer –”

  Keirthynal! his mother scolded, bending to check the wound. That’s no way to talk to a lady.

  I saw her stomach, Mom. Really. Anyways, how am I supposed to respond? If I say there’s nothing to see, then that’s an insult, right? And if I say there is something to see, then I’m in even worse trouble. A man cannot win in this life.

  Ha, said Shanryssill. Think you’re being clever now?

  The hole grew deep. Swift change of subject! “Rhyl, what’s that patch of silver on yer hand?”

  The Elfmaiden held up her hand to the light. “Interesting. Her blood must have stained my skin. I’m sure it’ll wash off soon enough.”

  “Healing up very nicely, niece,” Shanryssill pronounced, smoothing Rhyl’s shirt back down. “I cannae say there’s ow’t a good helping of yak stew and a good night’s rest will now’t fix. Looks like ye might have been right, Keir, that the hatchling was able to accelerate the healing processes with her magic. The skin is already knitting well.”

  “How d’ye judge, may I ask?”

  “If I dinnae ken better, son, I’d say this wound was already three days along, rather than just one. The scabs are already fine and crusty, with new skin forming and knitting beneath
– that ye can tell because with Elves, it starts lighter and turns darker over time.”

  “Nae more holes to let out the usual excess of mischief?” he inquired archly.

  Rhyl snorted, “Come over here so I can pull yer pointy ears, would ye?”

  “Why ever would I do that?”

  “Yer a cruel and wicked man! Who brought ye up – oops.”

  Shanryssill kissed her niece’s cheek fondly. “Who but the Dragon’s mother, indeed?” She shooed Auroral Storm Diamond away from investigating Harik’s peg leg. “Och nae, ye bonny rascal on paws, dinnae ye dare! That’s nae chew toy for the likes of ye. Did I tell ye, son, that she scoffed every last one of the green onions in the storeroom before we left? Now’t one peel left.”

  “Really? Sorry, Mom,” Keir muttered. “Must have needed something in her diet, I guess.”

  “Aye. Still, I left a note or two around the neighbours’ places. They’ll share out everything we left behind. Nae point in wasting good stores.”

  “Nice, Mom.”

  “Now’t but the onions?” Rhyl inquired meantime. “She dinnae even have onion breath. Or an excess of gas, unlike ye, cousin.”

  “As if!”

  “She’s worse than the legendary Dwarven goats that will eat the socks off yer feet,” his mother averred, giving said dragonet the sharp end of a fierce motherly glare. “Eating us out of house and home!”

  The hatchling vigorously scratched her ears with her hind leg, apparently copying the dogs.

  “I’ll keep an eye on the wee scaly muncher,” he promised.

  How? That might be an issue.

  Twelve people sat at table for dinner. The families were old friends. Harik and Meritha came to town every couple of months when the snows allowed, and in the past, before his mother became so deathly ill, they had always stayed over. Much happy chatter consumed the children’s end of the table. How remarkable to see three sets of twins sitting alongside one another! Meantime, Kalar filled the parents in on recent events. Harik kept tugging on his thick grey-brown beard and saying things like, ‘Well, Mauve’s sure as eggs to turn pink,’ and ‘When the mountains learn to dance!’ Meritha busied herself dishing up great ladles of rich brown stew and hunks of sweet cornbread hot out of the oven. No-one ever left her table hungry. Fact. Shanryssill poured water for the youngsters, while for the adults, a skein of red wine from Kalar’s little underground cellar appeared to have made the journey with them and required due attention.