As the others ate, Scabia settled down beside Wistala.
“It’s good to have another dragonelle around,” the aged white said.
“We may stay some time, if you’ll let us. We all could use a rest.”
“The Sadda-Vale can support many more dragons than it does. It has in the past, in any case. You can win a place for yourself and your companions permanently, as uzhin.”
“You still need eggs for your daughter?” Wistala asked. Scabia’s charity always came with a price, and she’d asked, years ago, that Wistala mate with NaStirath so that her barren daughter Aethleethia would have hatchlings to care for.
“Yes. I’d still like you to produce them. The superiority of your characteristics, your size and strength, suggest that you would lay fit, healthy hatchlings. Why, you might have eight or more eggs in a single clutch. You could be the foundation of a new age in the Sadda-Vale.”
Scabia’s eyes gleamed. Was she looking forward to a new age, or back at past glories?
“The price is mating with NaStirath.”
“He’s not so bad, Wistala.”
“But—mate with him?”
“Take it from one who has mated many times. It is over before you know it.”
She wondered how far she could dare tax Scabia’s charity and desire for another generation in the Sadda-Vale. “I’d much rather mate with DharSii,” Wistala finally said.
“DharSii? Surely you joke.”
“He’s a closer relative of yours, isn’t he?”
“Yes. But he’s a striped dragon. They’re always difficult, often sterile. I don’t believe mating with him would be productive. Striped dragons never fit in, no offense intended against either my uzhin or your scaleless brother.”
“My brother has stripes, and has managed to produce offspring. One clutch of four eggs.”
“Probably striped as well. If that’s all he’s managed to have, he’ll be the last of his line. DharSii is out of the question. You must lay the next eggs in my hall, with NaStirath.”
She stared at the empty floor.
“Besides,” Scabia continued, “there are attributes of DharSii that I wouldn’t wish to see passed on. He has forever humbled himself by working in harness for hominids. I would not have any line of mine sullied by a slave.”
“He worked for hominids to bring you coin.”
“A real dragon finds coin, takes it, demands it of his inferiors. He doesn’t run errands like a dwarfen shopkeeper.”
“You think NaStirath his superior?”
“I wouldn’t trust NaStirath to burn down a barn full of oil-soaked cotton. But he is of an impressive length, his bone structure is exceedingly fine, he displays a better than average wingspan. I’ve never known him to be sick a day in his life.”
“The way he idles, I wonder how you could tell if he was sick.”
“What will it be, Wistala? You wish to live in my vale, you will accept my rule. Produce eggs for my daughter to raise as her own, or find another cave for your poor exiles. If you can.”
Wistala knew what her choice would be. It was there, half-formed and painful, like a toothache just setting in. She was but one dragonelle, thrown out by her society, but she held in her tender jaws the lives of two brothers, their families, and a handful of loyalists to an exiled regime.
“I will do as you demand.”
“You and your friends will find us generous hosts. There is nothing to fear from the Lavadome, relations between our two societies are of long-standing.”
“I hope that proves true,” Wistala said.
“The rule of Scabia is not to be trifled with.”
* * *
There was nothing to do but get it over with. If it had to be done, it might as well be done quickly. Her Copper brother was making himself miserable, and AuRon lay in his loft and slept like a jungle snake with a deer in it.
But they roused themselves to attend her “mating.”
Scabia even managed to climb a little spit of land that looked out on the unusually misty lake. Blue clouds high above looked like a stormy sea.
“Wistala,” NaStirath said. “Don’t look so down-at-hearts. Think of it as a silly game, to please your relatives. You may not admit it, but you’re a sprig of the great tree Scabia tends, in her way.”
She took one long, last look at DharSii. If ever a dragon looked miserable enough to drop scale, it was he.
“I don’t suppose I get a song,” Wistala said.
Scabia snorted. “Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not his mate, my offspring is.”
“Well, off with it, you two,” Scabia said. “I’ve waited long enough for some eggs in this cavern.”
DharSii, evidently unable to watch the rest of the ceremony, moved off in the direction of the lake.
“Don’t stand there twitching like a thunderstruck rabbit,” Scabia said. “Into the air. I’ll be watching, remember.”
“Oh please, must you?”
The Copper spoke at last. “Scabia, if my sister has agreed to… to create some eggs with NaStirath, she’ll do it. Save her the embarrassment of knowing she’s being watched from the ground.”
“Oh-h-h, once upon a time all the hominids of the world read their augurs whenever dragons mated.”
“Let them have their privacy,” the Copper said. “I’ve been on the receiving end of such curious stares. I didn’t care for it.”
“I’ll see that you get your eggs,” Wistala said. “I don’t want us watched.”
“Oh, very well,” Scabia said, darting suspicious glances at the siblings. “I suppose I can trust you to see this through, NaStirath?”
“The sooner it’s over, the better,” NaStirath said. “Not that anyone asked my opinion, but I don’t care to be watched either.”
“When you start having sensible opinions, I’ll start asking for them,” Scabia said. “Well, get on with the matter. I must go to my offspring.”
DharSii was lost in the mists coming off the lake. AuRon and RuGaard both dropped their heads in bows that were meant to be both grateful and encouraging, she imagined. Odd that their gestures were so alike, with decades of different experiences behind them.
“Flying is not my favorite pastime,” NaStirath said. “I hope you don’t expect me to perform up where the air’s too thin.”
“Be assured, I’ll fly gently,” Wistala said.
“I’m no more looking forward to this than you are,” NaStirath said. “I live here on Scabia’s charity as well, you know. Though mine comes in dearer coin, being mated to her insipid daughter.”
Wistala let loose a deep breath. It won’t be so bad. A battle is worse, and you’ve survived many of those. A brief embrace, a fall—
That’s an idea. Don’t open your wings again.
No, my brothers need a refuge.
“Look,” NaStirath said. “This is all a joke. Think of it as a joke. I assure you, it’ll be over soon enough, and we’ll all be laughing.”
Wistala wasn’t so sure about laughter anymore. Perhaps her parents had a reason for giving it up when they went into the wild.
So this was to be her mating flight. Taking off from a windswept plaza into a cloudy spring sky over the Sadda-Vale, on a day as cold as DharSii’s heart and as gray as her brother.
She spread her wings and took off, tempted to fly, fly hard east until either her heart burst or she crashed in exhaustion.
But no, she wouldn’t do that.
“Well, if you’re going to follow, follow,” she said, taking off.
NaStirath launched his bulk into the sky behind her. He was a goodly-sized dragon, one of the very few larger than her in length and wingspan.
Might as well make NaStirath work a little harder for it, Wistala thought.
She fought to gain altitude. NaStirath shrunk to a madly flapping miniature behind, bellowing something about giving up on a joke going far enough.
No, the joke hadn’t gone nearly far enough. Or high enough. She put her whole bod
y into getting a few more beats out of her wings, willing her heavy frame to rise. Muscles toughened by the ground-armor responded.
NaStirath gained his second wind. She heard him coming up behind. What would his blundering grasp be like?
They’d gone high enough. Surely even NaStirath could manage the job with this distance to fall.
She felt a nip at her tail.
That idiot is too much.
She turned her head to give him a taste of flame in his face.
DharSii!
How had he followed her here, in the clouds, and where between the Four Spirits was NaStirath?
She swooped, glided, and DharSii fell in beside her.
“What is this? Don’t tell me you’re going to fight NaStirath for me, or convince me to flee with you.”
“Neither,” DharSii said.
“So what is this?”
“Didn’t NaStirath tell you? It’s a joke. We’re playing it on Scabia.”
“But what about the mating with NaStirath and her precious next generation?”
DharSii twitched a griff at her. “Oh, she’ll get her eggs. I’ll see to that, if it takes a generation’s trying.”
His wing close around hers. Wistala shivered with excitement at the touch. For the first time in an age, it seemed, she felt like laughing.
Drakine Glossary
Drakine
Foua: A product of the firebladder. When mixed with the liquid fats stored within and then exposed to oxygen, it ignites into oily flame.
Griff: The armored fans descending from the forehead and jaw that cover sensitive ear holes and throat pulse points in battle.
Griff-tchk: a instant, an immeasurably short amount of time.
Laudi: Brave and glorious deeds in a dragon’s life that make it into the lifesong.
Prrum: The low thrumming sound a dragon makes when it is pleased or particularly content.
Saa: The rear legs of a dragon. The three rear true-toes are able to grip, but the fighting spur is little more than decoration.
Sii: The front legs of a dragon. The claws are shorter and the fighting spur on the rear leg is closer to the other digits and is opposable. The digits are more elegantly formed for manipulation.
Torf: A small gob from the firebladder, used to provide a few moments of illumination.
Hypatian
Vesk: A Hypatian mark of distance based on the amount of distance light infantry can cover in an hour: about three-and-a-half miles.
Draconic Personae
Aethleethia—Daughter of Scabia
AuSurath—AuRon and Natasatch’s red offspring
Ayafeeia—Leader of the Firemaids, daughter of Ibidio
BaMelphistran—Assistant to the Aerial Host, later leader
CuRemom—Ankelene with idea for selling dragon parts
FeHazathant—Former Tyr, now dead
Ibidio—Elderly female dragon, mate to AgGriffopse, Tyr FeHazathant’s only male offspring
Istach—Striped daughter of AuRon and Natasatch
Halaflora—Tyr RuGaard’s first mate, now dead
NaStirath—A dragon of the Sadda-Vale. A very silly dragon indeed.
Natasatch—AuRon’s mate
Varatheela—AuRon’s daughter
NoFarouk—A dragon of the Tyr’s court
NoFhyriticus—Gray Protector of Hypatia
Ouistrela—Cantankerous old female on the Isle of Ice
Regalia—Green twin
Scabia—Ruler of the Sadda-Vale
SiDrakkon—Former Tyr, successor to Tyr FeHazathant, now dead
SiHazathant—Red twin
SiMevolant—Former Tyr, successor to Tyr SiDrakkon, now dead
SoRolatan—Former Protector of Dairuss
Yefkoa—A swift-flying Firemaid
About the Author
E. E. Knight graduated from Northern Illinois University with a double major in history and political science, then made his way through a number of jobs that had nothing to do with history or political science. He resides in Chicago. For more information on the author and his worlds, E. E. Knight invites you to visit his Web site at vampjac.com.
[Age of Fire 05] - Dragon Rule Page 24
