[Age of Fire 05] - Dragon Rule

by E. E. Knight - (ebook by Undead)

  Then they came to sort of a twisting passage that dropped like a root, with a root’s branching divisions. Rayg, hanging on to a rope thrown around the Copper’s neck, stayed on his feet.

  The party began to see pieces of crystal running through the stones. Cavern increasingly gave way to crystal.

  “We’re on Anklemere’s old road,” Rayg said. “After he was killed, dragons took out his stairs to make room for us to pass.”

  They came to sort of an overlook. The Copper thought the cavern looked like an unusually angry sea, the whitecaps frozen forever into blue-white still life.

  Lights like tiny drifting jellyfish ran inside the crystal caps. The lights waxed, sparked, waned, and flickered out like fireflies dying in the time it took to draw a long breath.

  “What is this?” the Copper asked.

  “It looks like fairy fire,” DharSii said. “But brighter. We get it in the sky in the far north.”

  “It reminds me of stars,” Wistala said. “What is it?”

  “Not even the Ankelenes know,” Rayg said. “Some believe that this is where the heat from the Lavadome is channeled and dispersed, the way wet drips off a mammal’s fur.

  “I can tell you one more thing. These lights—they’ve become more active. They start and burn out faster, and there are more of them. According to the Ankelenes, the only variation before was when the lava was more active. They would burn brighter, longer.”

  “Magic?” the Copper asked.

  “Magic is a cheap explanation for the inexplicable,” Rayg said. “A dragon’s fire may seem magical to many humans, but it’s just an oil fire with a little sulfur mixed in. With a few more chemicals it’s difficult to identify, because they react so strongly to air.”

  “Rayg’s practical,” the Copper said.

  “Let me see him create dragonfire in his workshop,” DharSii said.

  Rayg pulled up a chain from his overshirt. The crystal AuRon had worn, an unfortunate “gift” from the Red Queen for his emissary duties to the Lavadome. It glowed behind a metal lattice, like a tiny owl in a miniature cage.

  “Why the bars?” DharSii asked.

  “If I let it touch my skin, I become—overexcited. I can’t sleep. Or even sit down. For a few minutes it’s exhilarating, especially when I’m working on a problem. An hour is exhausting. A day would drive me mad.”

  “What’s the longest you ever had it on?” the Copper asked.

  “Three days. I think. It could have been less. One of your bats found me on the floor of my workroom with my nose bleeding. After that, I quit touching the crystal except for a few minutes at a time, by putting a finger or two through these bars.”

  “They’re obviously connected,” Rayg said.

  “Similar material, similar structure. Similar origins?” Wistala asked.

  “I believe you’re right, Wistala,” DharSii said. “You have an Ankelene’s mind in a Skotl body with a Wyrr temperament.”

  Wistala’s scale rippled at the praise. The Copper remembered their mother’s scale rising and falling that way when Father spoke to her.

  He wondered. DharSii was a well-enough-formed dragon with a good mind, but he struck him as one interested only in his own affairs. He wasn’t likely to make much of a mate, nor would he, the Copper suspected, mate unless it were somehow to his advantage. Perhaps he did wish to return to a position of importance in the Lavadome. If that was all, the Copper couldn’t help but think less of him.

  “There are records of the Lavadome dating back to Ankle-mere. It may be older, we just have no proof. The crystal NooMoahk had in his library that the Red Queen seized goes back to the days of blighter dominance, if not before.”

  “I would suggest it’s an engine of some kind, but beyond anything we could possibly comprehend.”

  “Ever since the Red Queen sent NiVom, Imfamnia, and myself to retrieve the object the blighters call the ‘sun-shard’ I’ve been curious about what she thought it would do. NooMoahk’s library yielded some pieces of information.

  “I believe there are three important pieces to this enigma. One is the Lavadome entirely, the second is the sun-shard. The third is a smaller crystal. They might be compared to your body—the Lavadome is the muscular meat, the sun-shard is the heart, and the third is the mind.”

  “So where is the third?”

  “It went from Silverhigh to Scabia’s Sadda-Vale. From there, she told me that a dragon named AuNor took it. He was fond of looking into it—according to Scabia it gave some visions… others nightmares.”

  “AuNor!” Wistala said. “My father’s father?”

  “The same. He passed down the traditions of the Silverhigh Star to you and your brother… or at least he began to.”

  “What is the Silverhigh Star?”

  “Order of the Silverhigh Star, is the proper name,” DharSii said. “A league of dragons devoted to improving dragonkind and its place in the world. From good dragons, better was one of their sayings.”

  “I’ve never come across anything about an Order of the Silverhigh Star among the Ankelenes. Though I’ve limited my studies to the physical sciences, for the most part,” Rayg said.

  “Its influence was waning even before Silverhigh fell,” DharSii said. “Your mother sang one of its songs to her hatchlings.”

  “If you find your missing piece of the puzzle, what will you do with it?” the Copper asked.

  “Unite the pieces. Very carefully.”

  “So it will belong to the Lavadome.”

  “It belongs to all dragons, I believe,” DharSii said. “I would like to examine your home cave. With Wistala to guide me.”

  Home cave. Bitter words.

  “My home cave is the Lavadome,” the Copper said. “For now, it’s also Wistala’s. She has duties here.”

  “Let me try to change your mind,” DharSii said.

  “If there’s nothing more, Rayg, I will leave.”

  Rayg ignored him, staring at Wistala in thought.

  The Copper turned tail and began the long climb back to Imperial Rock. He heard Rayg’s quick footsteps behind.

  Wistala and DharSii lingered behind.

  Wistala couldn’t take her eyes off DharSii. He stood there amidst the fairy lights, looking as though he were standing in a thundershower of fireflies.

  “I’d like to know more about your order,” Wistala said.

  “It’s a matter of few words, or a great many,” DharSii replied.

  “Tell me.” As far as he was concerned, she could listen to him forever.

  “The Order was committed to learning from others. Hominids, avians, whatever. All the natural world holds a lesson.”

  “That’s true. I learned courage from an old horse,” Wistala said.

  “According to the philosophers of Silverhigh, dragons taught others to speak and record their thoughts. But sometimes I wonder if it wasn’t the reverse. There are so many odd words in the dragon vocabulary that are of little use unless you’re dealing with hominid concerns. Terms having to do with architecture, or agriculture. Dragons in their natural state don’t grow food and sniff out shelter more often than they build it. You’d think we’d only have three words for a cave, much as the bears do.”

  “When would you like to leave for my home cave?”

  “What about the Tyr?” DharSii asked.

  “Talking about the past upsets him. That part of our shared past, I should say.”

  DharSii planted his feet. “I’d rather talk about the future. Wistala, I’d prefer to have you as a mate.”

  Wistala thought she’d imagined his statement. He’d like her to be his mate? “That’s it? I’m a preference? No song, no mating flight, no—”

  “You’re a sensible, intelligent dragon. You really want to sit there and listen to me sing about my life? You know the particulars—the important ones, anyway.”

  “That’s it,” she repeated, feeling the heat in her words.

  DharSii looked puzzled. Perhaps he expected her
to quietly agree, then have a long talk about the ideal Protectorate for a home cave. “These old traditions sound better than they live. My bellowing, you flying off and trying to outrace me. It’s silliness. I’m sure two intelligent dragons can come to a reasonable decision.”

  Wistala spoke without thinking. “Reason, reason—everything with you is reason. Give me a reason to be your mate!”

  DharSii stamped in confusion, looking at her first out of one eye and then the other as if to make sure his visual abilities were functioning properly.

  “So we’re not to be mated?”

  The Wyrr temperament he’d just praised disappeared. “Not without a proper courtship, no. Furthermore, I have my duties as Queen-Consort. I don’t know where Lavadome traditions stand on such matters.”

  “Vent the Lavadome. There are dozens of dragonelles, in the Firemaids and in the hills, for your brother to choose from. Any of them could preside over ceremonies and sniff hatchlings as well as you. I don’t want us to be following old traditions that have outlived their usefulness. Let us start our own.”

  “I swore oaths on my honor when I became a Firemaid. I cannot mate without breaking that oath. Nilrasha broke hers and look what happened. They think her capable of murdering a sister dragon.”

  DharSii blinked and took a deep breath. She might as well have told him that his teeth needed a polish. Curse him, was he a wind-up toy, built by dwarfs? Didn’t a recognizable emotion exist in that great horned head of his?

  “We’ll talk more. Let me see about helping you find this missing piece of the puzzle, or engine, or whatever this is.”

  With that, she fled upward, afraid that if she stayed any longer she’d forget those oaths and her duties to a nation of dragons.

  Wistala wanted to fly, wanted to touch the sun. DharSii wanted her to be his mate. But instead of flying, she had to find her brother to ask him to accompany DharSii on his search.

  She found Shadowcatch with a great bucket of wine guarding the entrance to his chamber.

  “Shadowcatch, I must see the Tyr.”

  “My Queen, I suppose I should tell you that I’m to kill you,” Shadowcatch said, slurring a little. He was a great eater and an ever greater drinker of wine, and the Tyr had recently given him some barrels of brandy-fortified syrup, the tribute of grateful elvish winemakers on the Ku-Zuhu coast whose fields and cellars were no longer being raided by Inland Sea Pirates.

  Wistala couldn’t have been more shocked if the world had turned upside down.

  “My own mate’s bodyguard, an assassin?”

  “Don’t misunderstand. I’ve no intention of killing you now. Your mate’s been so kind to me. I was hired by the Wheel of Fire dwarfs to hunt you down and kill you. But seeing as most of ’em are lying dead on the battlefield, I doubt anyone will be asking for their upfronts back.”

  “Why tell me?” Wistala asked.

  Shadowcatch looked discomfited. “I’m not a clever dragon like some here. But I know when a fight is on the way. I can just tell, the way some dragons look at me, they’re guessing which way I’ll jump if there’s an attempt on your mate’s life. I wanted to tell you about the dwarfs hiring me so you’d know that you could trust me. But at the same time, if I don’t kill you, I feel like I’m breaking an oath.”

  Wistala thought furiously. “What were the terms?”

  “Kill you, bring back your head to prove it, and then I’d get the rest of my coin.”

  “Was there a time limit set on the job?”

  “No, though they wanted one. But I told them with the whole world for you to hide in, it’d take a while to track you down.”

  “Then let’s put off the day of reckoning. The way things are shaping up, I may very well end up dead in any case. Should fate overtake me, you’re welcome to my head and your reward.”

  * * *

  The Copper watched the questioning from the unusual perspective of the audience ledges.

  The old dueling pit under Imperial Rock was roughly oval, sand-bottomed with lines of ledges that could accommodate many dragons, depending on how willing they were to be squashed. When very full, thralls pulled chains that worked winglike flaps moving in and out of the two exits, one leading to the Lavadome and the other up into Imperial Rock.

  A unique, rising ledge projected out into the arenalike sand pit. When it was used for dueling, a neutral dragon would oversee the duel from that vantage, ready to intervene in the event one of the duelists received aid from a nonduelist or fought with non-natural weapons. Now the promontory held the Tyr as he listened to witnesses and heard evidence and held debates over important issues when he wanted to hear other opinions.

  Now NoSohoth reclined on the Tyr’s ledge, and looked as though he enjoyed his view. There were enough spectators so that every fan-chain was employed, every oliban brazier was lit, and still the air was thick with stale air and dragon-musk.

  The Skotl and Wyrr clans gathered on either side of the arena, with the Ankelenes scattered about. Drakwatch and Firemaid drakes and drakka were grouped around him and Wistala.

  The Copper hoped he’d live to see the day when Wyrr and Skotl wouldn’t divide in this manner—they were all dragons, after all, and had enemies enough without dividing.

  He’d heard rumors about the supposed witnesses, everyone had. Even his bats hadn’t been able to learn anything about their location or who was hiding them. He suspected they were among the thralls somewhere, but as Tyr and Nilrasha’s mate he had to remain above the controversy.

  NoSohoth did an impressive job once Ibidio brought in her witnesses. The first was a down-at-beard dwarf who claimed Nilrasha stalked Halaflora as the just-mated couple traveled west to Anaea.

  First NoSohoth quizzed the dwarf about how he came to be a ferryman deep beneath the surface. An Ankelene translated for those who didn’t understand the dwarfs rough Pari.

  “We were a labor team brought down to build a bridge for the Hypatians. A digger friend bought a map to a secret gold mine in what you-all call the Lower World. So we bucked off cutting stone for bridges and sought fortune. We tried to find it—got lost. Starving, we were, had to earn a living somehow.”

  The actual story required a good deal of prompting from NoSohoth—dwarfs were notoriously recalcitrant about their histories. Many in the audience grew bored and one or two slipped out for air.

  Then NoSohoth asked: “How did you know the dragonelle in question was Nilrasha?”

  “She said so, your dragonship.”

  With that, NoSohoth nodded to a thrall and three Fire-maids entered.

  “Could you please show us which one labeled herself as Nilrasha.”

  Ibidio spat a torf into the sand of the pit and the Copper heard griff rattle.

  “Err… the one in the middle, I think. The light wasn’t good.”

  “The light wasn’t good,” NoSohoth repeated.

  The next witness was an aged bat the Copper didn’t recognise, beyond his size and toothiness, thanks to being fed dragon blood.

  NoSohoth’s questioning was brief. He spoke to the bat in a loud, stern voice and the bat crumbled.

  “What would you be likin’ me to say, sir?” the bat cried.

  “I think we’ve heard enough from him. Take the poor old sot away, he’s confused.”

  Some of Ibidio’s allies hissed and clattered their griff at that.

  “What does the Lavadome believe?” NoSohoth asked the assembled dragons. “Who will call Nilrasha a murderer?”

  “Murderer!” Ibidio roared. A few other voices joined in, some loudly, some with half a voice. The number of voices grew.

  NoSohoth looked at the Copper, alarmed.

  Wistala muttered something about this process being subject to manipulation. The Copper thought it an immense improvement over the Tyr just passing judgement based on whether he liked the look on the accused’s face and the lay of his scale or no, but Nilrasha’s honorable name, and possibly his Tyrship, lay in the balance…

 
“Innocent!” shouted Wistala, which wasn’t according to tradition of trial by questioning.

  “Innocent!” she roared again, also not according to tradition—if practice of such recent vintage could be called tradition—but the Firemaids joined in.

  “Innocent! Innocent!”

  Some of the poorer dragons from Nilrasha’s home hill took up the call. NoSohoth joined in. Soon, the shouts of “Murderer!” dwindled and fell off.

  “Thank you, Wistala,” the Copper said.

  “She blames herself, you know,” Wistala replied.

  “For Halaflora’s death?”

  “She told me she tried, but she was too late. I believe her.”

  The Copper had long wondered about exactly what had happened that night. Sometimes he’d doubted Nilrasha’s version—privately, that is.

  He couldn’t find words. Someday soon he’d have to ask Nilrasha to forgive his doubting her.

  “Poor Halaflora,” the Copper finally said. “Well, my Queen-Consort, if you must chase the ghosts of the past, I give you leave. I hope DharSii finds what he’s looking for.”

  Chapter 14

  Wistala had forgotten how close the cave of their birth was to the gap in the Red Mountains that admitted the Falngese River. No wonder Father had had trouble with men and dwarfs. While the mountains themselves weren’t settled, trade routes at both the north-south and east-west routes passed nearby.

  DharSii had heard the story of the attack on the egg cave and the murder of her parents with cool distaste. He’d undoubtedly heard other such stories about dragons hunted right to the egg shelf, but she’d hoped for a stronger reaction. Of course, he’d been withdrawn since the suggestion of mating in the twinkling depths of the Lavadome.

  The cave smelled as though some bears had taken up residence in the upper chamber, but at this time of year they were out getting fat on berries, honeycombs, and fish. Which was just as well; she didn’t care to fight bears, as they contented themselves with their own needs and left even the smallest hatch-lings alone. Only bats bothered to venture deeper. The smell of their excretions felt like a welcome.