by Audrey Faye
She nodded her head toward the valley. ::Go. Show the younglings how it’s done.::
He lifted his wings and met her gaze a moment longer before he took to the sky in pursuit of a small purple-gray lightning bolt.
Lovissa stirred.
This was dream, but strange dreaming. It called to the line of queens in her blood, as the ashes did. But it did not call her to fire. This place was cold. Eternally so, with nothing but points of light breaking up the blanket of dark.
In this dream, she walked the skies.
She was not alone. Another shape, familiar and eerie, walked a path through the stars that would intersect with hers.
She inclined her head, acknowledging Elhen. The old dragon nodded back, her moves slow and regal. If she was awed by this walk through the stars, she did not show it.
::I have come here before.:: The words were solemn. Steady. ::I have not seen one of your time here.::
Somehow, Lovissa knew the answer to that. ::We go to the ashes to speak to the queens who have come before us. You have no ashes to visit.::
::I do not.:: Deep sadness—and acceptance. ::You are fortunate to have such wisdom within your reach.::
One who honored her line, even if she could not talk to their ashes. ::There is much happening in your time. The new winged one grows in strength.::
A long silence as they walked side by side bathed in starlight. ::The one who will be queen after me has greatness in her, and also great vulnerability. Jae is a gift, if Fendellen can learn to accept all of what she brings. A time of upheaval comes. I would wish, with all that is in me, that Fendellen would not walk that path alone.::
Only a very few could understand the vast loneliness of a queen’s calling. ::You believe the winged one is strong enough to stand with her?::
::The star believes.::
Perhaps. It was not for queens to understand the motives of stars. ::Or perhaps she is needed for other reasons.::
Sadness. ::Perhaps.::
Lovissa had no wisdom to offer to such sadness—but she did have a gift. ::You have a small purple one who does not yet have a name.::
Elhen’s gaze quickened with interest. ::Yes. The one who is called Squirt.::
A nickname that gained in accuracy by the day, but it did not capture the fullness of a young dragon who would be a special one’s guardian. ::We lost a fine warrior in battle this summer past. She was brought down by dragonkiller arrows.:: A wish, sharp as a sword, stabbed Lovissa’s chest, that no more would have to die.
::She fought so that others might live.::
Lovissa dipped her head. ::You have one who paid with his wings to do the same.::
This time, the aching sadness had layers. A queen who mourned for a warrior and a friend.
Lovissa was glad. Perhaps the old white queen did not walk entirely alone. ::The dragon who was lost was one of much joy and spirit. Her name was Eleret. I would be well pleased to think her reborn in a time of peace.::
::Eleret.:: Elhen murmured the name to the stars, and the stars murmured it back. ::It will take her a while to grow into it yet, but it fits her.::
::Then it shall be so.:: Two queens walking the stars could surely decide that much.
And perhaps it would ease the other decision weighing on Elhen’s wings.
Part III
Two Hearts True
Chapter 15
Jae juggled her cloak, two bowls of stew, a knife with a loose handle, and the pot of salve she’d just finished making, and tried to free up a hand to open the door to the nursery. There were days when an extra pair of hands would be far more useful than wings.
She used her feathers to shelter the stew and the salve, trying to hold some heat in both. It was a clear, crisp day, but the wind said something was building up in the weather again. She reached out for Fendellen’s mind, something that was getting easier with practice. ::Tell those practicing their flying to be careful. The winds will make the rolling fun, but also more dangerous.::
::You don’t say,:: came the dry reply.
Jae made a face, even though her dragon couldn’t see it. ::I’m sorry. I didn’t think to warn you.::
::I’ve been flying as long as you have and Afran far longer. We shouldn’t need warnings.::
That sounded dire. ::Do you need a healer?::
::Mostly for our pride. We’re fine, sweet one, and we’ll make sure the others don’t collect more than a few bumps and bruises. Are you done with your potion?::
::I am. Now I just have to figure out how to get the door open with my hands full of all the things people needed delivered to the nursery.::
Amusement, and warmth. ::None of them wanted to venture out into the cold.::
Evidently not. ::They’d never last in the high mountains.::
::You’re made of sterner stuff, my sweet kin. Back away from the door a bit. Irin is coming to let you in.::
Jae blinked, but she took a step back just as the door cracked and the weapons master stuck his head out. He took one look at the pile in her arms and understood the problem. He reached first for the knife, carefully extracting it by its handle, and then took one of the bowls of stew. “Come in. Kis will be glad to see his breakfast. The hatchlings ate most of what I had set aside for this morning.”
Jae halted as the door swung shut behind her and three dragon babies with very sharp claws tried to climb her legs.
Kis rumbled, low and stern, and they all promptly dropped to the floor and sat, chastened.
Irin gave all three a look. “That stew she’s holding would be my breakfast, you never-ending buckets of hunger.”
Jae hid a smile as Eleret’s dark purple eyebrow ridges drooped sadly. Her new name had come in the night, a message from far-off lands, and it suited her. “I could go to the kitchen for more. Kellan said they were making two pots full.”
“They’re still babies enough that their bellies need milk curds.” Irin dropped a small spoonful of stew in a bowl on top of a pile of the soft white cheese. Then he set it down in front of her toes.
Jae watched with interest as Eleret and Taenin nudged their yellow friend toward the bowl first. Mountain families often shared from one dish too, but it was rare for the littles to delay their own feeding to care for another. Gran would approve. Such lessons ran far deeper than feeding. She glanced at Irin. “How do they know to care for Rilli so well?” It certainly wasn’t that way in human villages, even when revered healers led the way. It took attentiveness and sometimes threats to make sure the sick and the weak got what they needed to survive to the next spring melts.
“Elhen says their blood knows.” Irin took a seat and stuck the spoon back in his bowl, this time to feed himself. “Whatever it is, I’m glad of it.”
Jae had no doubt he would have used his blade to defend the small yellow dragon, but it didn’t seem necessary. It made her heart glad. She set the pot of salve she carried down next to the knife he had taken from her hands. “Karis said you would know what to do for the knife. The salve is for Kis. If you rub it on the sorest parts of his wings, it should ease the pain some.”
Irin’s eyebrows flew up into his hairline. “You seem quite sure of that.”
Jae shrugged. “It works on everyone from humans to goats, and one time Gran even used it on a bear.”
Irin’s cheek twitched. “That must be quite a story.”
It wasn’t a long one. “She found a young one in a cave, nursing a leg that had been caught in a trap. The cave was near the growing slopes of a flower we needed to make the coughing medicine, so it was only right to help heal the bear so it could leave and let us gather the flowers in peace.”
A long pause. “Your gran comes from sturdy stock.”
That was a compliment Gran would enjoy. “She has a way with animals. She returned three times with more salve for the bear. The fourth time we went, it was gone.”
Irin regarded the salve pot, this time with strong interest. “Kis can be about as grumpy as a bear, so perhaps t
his will help ease his winter aches. Thank you, missy. It’s a very thoughtful thing you did to make it.”
Another low rumble. ::I would add my thanks, youngling.::
Jae felt her cheeks warm. “It’s a simple salve. One of the first an apprentice learns to make.”
“It’s the simplest ones that are often the most useful.” Irin picked up the pot and gave it a sniff. “Comfrey, and chamomile, but I don’t recognize the rest.”
She blinked. She hadn’t known he was a healer too. “I don’t know what you call the other. It’s got five leaves that curl tightly at night and a dark purple blossom, but it’s just the leaves that go in the salve.”
Irin shook his head. “I’m just the soldier who knows how to grind up the things I’m told to use. Alonia and Trift would know if it grows around here, though.” His eyes narrowed. “Is this what you did with the dried packets that came with your letter?”
She nodded, able to hear the edge in his tone, but not understanding it. “Some of them.” Most of them. Dragons were big.
He huffed out a breath. “Your generosity does you credit, missy.”
She shrugged. “He needs it most.”
“Indeed.” He set the pot back down on the table. “I’m grateful.”
Two quietly spoken words, but they warmed her all the way to her belly. The high mountains never took their healers for granted, but she rarely felt quite this appreciated.
Jae jumped at a crash behind her.
Irin stood up, ire in his eyes. “Not in the nursery, missy. Wings are for using outside and under strict supervision.”
He didn’t mean her. He meant the small purple dragon rubbing her head on her wing. The one she had clearly just run into the back of the door. Jae winced. She’d hit a tree once, back when she was learning to fly. She’d had a big bump for a week. “I can take her outside and supervise.”
“Once it’s warmer.” Irin’s frown didn’t ease, but she had the distinct sense he didn’t mean much by it. “And once those infernal dragons aren’t flipping themselves around in the sky.”
The last words were said quietly, for her ears alone.
She shot a quick glance at Kis. Pains came in some forms salves couldn’t heal. Perhaps it hurt him too much, watching the antics of the other dragons.
“Not him.” Irin sat back down on his stool. “He might not admit it, but he enjoys seeing the fliers put through their paces. And it amuses him that it’s a puny human doing it.”
There was no point arguing—she was puny. “Fendellen and Afran are very good.”
“He was better.” A simple statement, said with no boasting at all. “You remind him of what he once was, and I thank you for that.” He shot a wry look at Eleret, still rubbing her head. “However, those tricks also tempt little ones who can’t even fly in straight lines yet. Best she stays inside until the skies are more sedate.”
Jae wasn’t sure that would work. Littles didn’t tend to forget the things you wanted them to. “I need to go help Kellan with the next pot of stew.” Inga had discovered that her wings could fan the fire without blowing ashes all over the kitchen, and stews liked a good, hot fire.
Irin inclined his head. “Thank you for the breakfast.”
She smiled. It was nice to feel useful. “I’ve got some set aside for Fendellen too. Although someone always seems to remember to feed her.”
“Indeed they do.” Irin’s voice was casual as he picked up the knife with the loose handle.
A man who wasn’t going to drop any easy clues.
Jae stood. She wouldn’t pry further. She’d already picked up a nugget or two in the kitchen, and perhaps more would come her way as she chopped vegetables for Kellan’s magic pot.
She waved to the babies and stepped out the door, making sure to keep wind out and dragons in. Then she crossed the short, blustery way to the kitchen. She’d almost made it back into warm and cozy when two voices hailed her. Karis and Ana, trying to batten down one of the thick waterproof cloths that covered the large entryways into many of the rondos. This one had caught in the wind, and they were struggling to get it back into place.
She wrapped her wings tightly around her as she made her way to where they stood, their arms folded as they glared at the cloth.
Jae could see the problem. She could feel it. The wind bent around the kitchen rondo and whistled by at just the angle to pin the cloth to the rondo wall. Very effective if it was already closed, but letting a nasty wind inside now that it had been forced open.
“We’ve tried rolling it,” said the wagon master crossly. “But two of us aren’t strong enough.”
Ten of them wouldn’t be strong enough. Not in this wind. “You need to redirect the air. Just for a minute so it will let go of the cloth.”
Karis raised an eyebrow. “Like a windblock?”
She’d been thinking of wings, but hers weren’t big enough. She knew someone’s who were, though. ::Fendellen? Can you come help us close a door?::
She felt the assent from her dragon rather than heard it.
Karis flashed a grin. “That will work, although my windblock is bigger.”
Ana stared. “You called Fendellen to come block the wind so we could close a door?”
Jae wasn’t sure why the wagon master sounded so surprised. “It should work.”
“Oh, it will work.” Ana started to laugh, and then looked at Karis and sobered abruptly. “It will work just fine. Thank you, youngling.”
Jae stashed that into her box of odd happenings. More ingredients for her next pot of tea. She turned, looking for the incoming ice-blue dragon.
And blinked at Fendellen’s terrifying speed.
::The little one. Jae, can you catch her?::
Karis hissed and pointed, but Jae had already spied Eleret’s small purple form streaking through the skies well above the rondo roofs.
Far higher than she was permitted to fly.
She shed her cloak and flapped, heedless of the blast of air she left behind her as she took off into the stiff, buffeting wind. The air over the village was a nasty mix of incoming storm and rising heat from the rondos—and she saw the moment Eleret ran into trouble.
The small purple body pitched and tossed, the hatchling screeching as she lost control of her wild flight and tumbled toward the ground.
Jae dove. Fendellen was closer, but she was too big to dive between the rondos. Irin ran, but his warrior legs weren’t going to arrive in time. She was the only one who was maybe close enough.
The wind was like thick snow, impeding her flight, pushing her back.
Jae reached, stretching out her hands with everything in her, and cried out in horror as Eleret crashed to the ground—just beyond her outstretched fingertips.
Chapter 16
“Don’t move her.” Jae held up a hand and used the voice Gran pulled out when she needed people to listen most. “If her bones are out of place, we could hurt her more.”
That was the most frightening possible problem, but in this wind, there were other dangers too. Jae looked up, seeking the eyes of her dragon. “I need dragons to block the wind and to warm the air around her, if you can do that carefully.”
::I can.:: A golden eye, filled with remorse, looked over Fendellen’s shoulder. ::I didn’t see her leave.::
“Not your fault, old man. You were napping. This is on me.” Irin looked ready to fight six battles at once. He looked straight at Jae. “What do you need, healer?”
She was only an apprentice, but in the high mountains, she was also often all that was available. “Blankets. Hot water. Some small, strong boards and ties.”
“Splints.” He nodded and started pointing fingers and issuing terse instructions. She heard footsteps running away.
The wind died off sharply. Dragon windbreak firmly in place, and Irin seemed more than competent to take care of the rest of what she would need. Jae put her attention in her hands. One, she rested ever so gently on Eleret’s chest, checking her breathing. With t
he other, she poked and prodded as gingerly as she could, feeling for bones that had moved from where they belonged.
She checked the neck first, which was the most fragile part of humans caught in snow slides and rock crevices. Her fingers found nothing, but it worried her that Eleret hadn’t moved at all.
::I can still feel her strongly.:: Fendellen was a column of ice-blue calm. ::She isn’t the first hatchling to fall from the sky. Young dragons have soft bones. We mend easily and well.::
The intensity swirling all around her said differently, but Jae couldn’t let that touch her. A scared healer was one who made mistakes. “What are the most common injuries when they fall?”
Silence, but she could hear words that didn’t quite reach her head, as if dragons were talking all at once, but on the other side of a wall. Then Fendellen spoke again, still a column of calm. “Bumps on heads that swell for a few days. Wings that are bent out of shape, sometimes quite sharply. Irin knows how to splint a wing.”
She glanced up at the weapons master. “Check her wings.” Hurts there wouldn’t be as dangerous, but she didn’t want to move Eleret until they knew as much as possible about her injuries.
The older man’s hands were brisk and gentle. He’d obviously done this before. Jae kept feeling gingerly under the small purple body.
Eleret’s whimper nearly cracked through her calm.
Irin’s hands stilled. “Here. It’s hot to my touch. This is the wing that landed first.”
Jae let herself see the terrible crash in her mind. “Wing, and then her head.”
“How is her neck?” Irin spoke so quietly, Jae was certain no one else could hear him.
“Nothing obviously wrong,” she replied, just as quietly. They could still tie the little body to a board before they moved her, but even with Kis blowing flame over their heads, the air was chill. Jae swallowed and made the hard decision with brisk confidence, just as she’d been taught. She looked at Irin and his big hands. “Can you carry her? We can fold her wings around her, but the most important part is to keep her head from moving around too much.”
