The Last Dragonlord

by Joanne Bertin

  The soldiers scattered like leaves. The noble backed away on shaking legs. He stopped short as he fetched up against his mare.

  Only Otter stood firm. He said, “I think not, my lord.” Then, to the horse, “Easy, Shan. He’ll do no such thing—I promise you.”

  To Maurynna’s astonishment, the stallion dropped to stand with all four hooves solidly on the cobblestones. He snorted.

  “Coo!” she heard someone whisper. “You’d think the bloody animal understood him.”

  “He did,” Otter said. “Don’t try to catch him again; he’ll stand there until I tell him otherwise. And as for you,” and Otter looked down his high-arched nose at the noble, “flog a bard, would you?” He pulled aside the neck of his tunic to reveal his bard’s tore.

  “Likely stolen, that tore! You’re not—” the man shrilled.

  “Ah—Lord Duriac,” the captain began.

  Unable to keep silent any longer, Maurynna said, “He is a bard—and friend to Linden Rathan, as well!” There. Let the pompous ass choke on that. She no longer cared about bringing the wrath of the Cassorin nobility down on her head.

  He nearly did choke. The Watch moved back as one as though disassociating themselves from someone fool enough to threaten a Dragonlord’s kith.

  The bard said, “This is Shan, Linden Rathan’s Llysanyin stallion. How he got here from Dragonskeep I don’t know. Do you understand what Llysanyin means, my lord?”

  Otter’s voice rose and fell as if he chanted a lay in the Yerrin High Chief’s hall. “Strength and speed beyond your dreams, for the Llysanyins are the children of the west wind from the land of the star-kindred, the land beyond the sun. East they came to bear the Dragonlords in a time lost in the mists of the past.

  “And that is what you nearly had covering your … ‘pure-bred desert mare,’” the bard finished in a slow drawl.

  The noble fell back. A greedy light filled his eyes. He dropped the mare’s reins. “I, ah, that is—if it would please the young Dragonlord …” He beckoned to Shan.

  No doubt, Maurynna thought. And it would please you even more, wouldn’t it, you selfish pig.

  Shan stepped forward, his neck arched at a proud angle. The mare raised her tail in invitation as she looked coquettishly over her shoulder at him.

  Otter laid his hand on Shan’s neck as the stallion passed him. “No, Shan.”

  Maurynna gasped as the big head whipped around. The stallion’s ears were pinned back and his teeth snapped at Otter’s wrist.

  Otter didn’t flinch. “Linden has been ill; very ill. He’s still far from well. It would do him good to see you.”

  The big horse turned his back to the mare, his entire being intent on the bard. It wrung Maurynna’s heart to see the proud stallion trembling like a foal. He lipped at the front of Otter’s tunic. Without thinking, she went up to him and stroked the deep sloping shoulder, saying, “He’s better now, Shan; truly”

  Shan rolled one eye to look at her. She saw his ears flick back and forth. To her delight Shan turned his full attention to her. He snuffled her, snorting softly. He sounded surprised, even confused.

  Otter laughed quietly. Then, catching hold of the stallion’s long forelock, he said, “I’d like to speak to you alone a moment if I may. Don’t worry; you’ll be seeing more of her later.”

  The soldiers fell back before him as he led Shan to one side. The plump lord sputtered, “But—but—but!” The mare looked insulted.

  Maurynna sighed. She was sorry Otter had taken Shan away. No doubt he’d now take him to Linden. Somehow she’d felt drawn to the big horse. And to see one of the fabled Llysanyins! Her fingers itched to untangle the thick black mane and tail.

  She waited with the soldiers, watching man and horse. Shan had dropped his head; Otter whispered into his ear. Now and again Shan nodded as if listening intently. At one point the stallion’s head shot up. He looked over to where she stood and then back at Otter. Now Otter nodded; the stallion hopped and nickered in excitement. The bard laughed. A few more minutes of urgent whispering and the two returned.

  Otter said to the noble, “Do you still wish to seek damages, my lord? If you have been injured in any manner, I’m sure Linden Rathan will be more than willing to make it up to you.”

  At a low growl from the crowd, the noble hastened to say, “Not at all, my lord bard. Though if you could see your way to asking him …” The man winked and bestowed an oily grin upon the bard. He licked his lips nervously as the angry rumble continued.

  Maurynna warmed at this sign of the crowd’s regard for Linden—then remembered she hated him.

  Didn’t she?

  And the sun will rise in the west tomorrow and seagulls will fty backwards, she told herself. At least be honest with yourself if with no one else.

  Otter coughed, hiding a smile behind his hand. “Of course. Perhaps when he’s better.” To the captain he said, “And you, Captain—are you satisfied? I can assure you there will be no repeats of this. Shan wishes only to see his master as soon as possible.”

  Shan nodded, his mane and forelock flying.

  The captain considered for a long moment. “If you’ll take responsibility for him and see that he gets to the Dragonlord, my lord bard, I’ve naught to say against it.” The man looked up at Shan, awe written across his face. “Daresay the Dragonlord has been missing him, him being a Llysanyin and all.” The captain blushed and ducked his head. “I remember the tales from when I was a sprat, y’see—I always liked hearing about the Dragonlords’ horses the best.”

  Otter smiled. “And rest assured that they’re true, Captain. But I shan’t be able to take Shan to Linden Rathan myself. I’ve—ahh—I’ve a prior engagement.” Otter winked at Maurynna.

  She gaped at him. He’d said nothing to her about—

  “But this young lady will. She’s Maurynna Erdon, captain of the Sea Mist from Thalnia. She’s also a close friend of Linden Rathan’s,” Otter finished.

  Looking dubious, the captain glanced quickly at her wrists; the sight of her captain’s bracelets seemed to reassure him. He nodded. “As you wish, m’lord bard.”

  Maurynna tried to speak, but only a squeak came out. Then she found her voice and said, “Otter, are you mad? I’m not a good enough rider for a horse like Shan! And there’s no saddle or bridle. He’ll throw me in an instant!”

  And as for telling the captain of the Watch she was a friend—a close friend—of Linden’s! … She fumed in silence; the Watch would only arrest her if she kicked Otter.

  Shan shook his head even as Otter said, “He won’t throw you, Rynna. And all you’ll need to do to guide him is tell him which way to go. Bring him to Linden, Rynna. It’s what Linden needs more than … almost … anything.”

  Maurynna wondered at the sudden sly tone in Otter’s voice, but Shan lipped at her hair, distracting her. Her fingers moved to the stallion’s forelock without conscious thought. As she untangled a twig she asked him, “You’ve understood everything we’ve said, haven’t you?” At Shan’s nod, she continued, “You do understand that I’m a sailor, not a rider—and I’ve never been on a horse as big as you.”

  She swallowed hard as she looked at how far Shan’s back was from the cobblestones. Seventeen hands if he’s an inch, she thought, remembering more of Raven’s lessons. If she fell, it was a long, long way down.

  She’d refuse. This was madness. But Shan rubbed his soft muzzle against her cheek as if to reassure her, and the thought of seeing Linden again made her heart beat faster. Wasn’t that what she’d been wishing for all this time?

  Shan settled the matter by nudging her to his side. His look said as plain as speech, “Mount!” Between Otter and a guard pushing and pulling, Maurynna found herself straddling the stallion’s broad back. She clutched a handful of mane as Shan slowly and carefully turned, Otter steadying her.

  The captain dug into his belt pouch and pulled out a square of parchment. It bore the wax impression of the Watch’s seal. He said, “This pass will
get you by any other companies you may run into, lass. They might think you’re trying your hand at horse thieving, riding with no tack.”

  Maurynna reached down to take it and nearly slid from Shan’s back. Otter caught her and pushed her up. She gulped as she realized how close she’d come to falling.

  “Oh, gods,” she whispered, looking down. The ground looked even farther away than she’d thought it would. And she felt horribly insecure without a saddle. Moving with painstaking care, Maurynna tucked the pass into her belt pouch. “Please walk slowly, Shan,” she quavered.

  The stallion whickered in answer. He stepped out at a gentle walk. The crowd melted before them. Nervous as she was, Maurynna still noticed the envious awe in many of the faces looking up at her. Then the full wonder of it all dawned on her. She rode a Dragonlord’s horse!

  Remembered childhood daydreams of galloping across flower-strewn meadows on a Llysanyin welled up in her mind. She sat up a bit straighter.

  Otter called after her, “He’s got a lovely canter, Rynna. When you get to the river road, ask him to—”

  Her knuckles turned white as she clenched the bit of mane she held. “Otter,” she yelled, not daring to turn around, “I really will keelhaul you if you give him any ideas!”

  She set her teeth as Otter’s laugh floated on the humid air behind them. Shan made a noise deep in his chest. She swore it was a horse’s chuckle.

  “Linden,” she gritted, “this is all your fault. I don’t know how, but it is!”

  Shan “chuckled” again.

  Maurynna thanked all the gods that Shan was sensible about the ferry ride. When they’d reached the dock, the Llysanyin had stepped down the ramp and onto the ferry like an old hand. Now he stood quietly beside her, hooves braced wide, while she pulled twigs and leaves out of his mane and cast them into the river sliding past.

  “A pity I can’t brush out the feathers on your feet,” Maurynna told him.

  Shan blew down the neck of her tunic.

  “Stop that. It tickles,” she said.

  “Hunh,” Shan grunted. “Hunh, hunnh.”

  Maurynna studied him. “I wish I knew what you were trying to say.” And I wish I knew what Linden is going to say. Going to him like this made her uneasy; he’d been so adamant that they part company. Well and well, she’d just blame Otter. This was, after all, his brilliant idea.

  Still, she’d be the one Linden yelled at. And not much longer till then; the far shore was coming up fast.

  “Do you think he’ll be angry?” she whispered into the stallion’s ear.

  “Hunnnh,” Shan replied.

  “Here, Shan,” Maurynna said. “He’s staying here.”

  Shan neighed and turned off the shady road so sharply that she came close to falling off. Before she could he’d slipped back under her. She could feel him trembling with excitement. She set him to cross the parkland between the road and the estate house at a diagonal, making for the stables behind the far side of the manor.

  For that matter, she was shaking as well. She sighed. If only she could break free of this desire of Linden. Then, all at once, she couldn’t wait to see him again.

  “Canter, Shan!” she cried, before she could regret trying it barebacked.

  Shan’s ears flicked back at her. Then he surged forward so smoothly that Maurynna felt no jolt. To her surprise the motion felt akin to the rise and fall of a boat on the sea. Maurynna stretched her legs as Raven had taught her, toes turned in and heels down, and sat as tall as she could. She laughed aloud, wondering why she’d been afraid. She had no need of a saddle on this wondrous beast.

  They raced across lush grass that looked soft enough to sleep on. This close to the river the air was fresh and cool with a hint of violets. Trees dotted the great expanse of green. Every time they passed beneath one and came back into the sunshine Maurynna blinked at the sudden brightness.

  Shan moved so lightly she hardly heard his hooves striking the ground. The wind of their passing blew her hair back. It was so like one of her dreams she wanted the ride to go on and on.

  But now she could see the stables. People were gathering in front of them, eyes shaded to watch the rider who disdained to come along the estate road. She tugged on Shan’s mane. He swerved in a gentle curve and slowed.

  That proved to be her undoing. One moment she was riding in a waking dream, the next she lay flat on her back in the thick grass. She blinked up at Shan, not even sure how it had happened. He snuffled her apologetically.

  She didn’t think she’d broken anything. She stretched her limbs one at a time. No, everything worked. And it hadn’t really hurt to fall on the grass. She thanked the gods it hadn’t happened on the cobbles of the stable courtyard.

  She rolled onto her stomach and stood up. As she dusted herself off the first of the grooms reached her.

  “Bloody hell, girl—did you hurt yourself? And what do you mean by riding across—” the man said.

  She cut him off. “I’m Captain Maurynna Erdon. This is Linden Rathan’s Llysanyin stallion, Shan. Our mutual friend Otter—you know of whom I speak, don’t you? The Yerrin bard.”

  The moment she said “Llysanyin,” she saw awe replace anger in his face. Though he nodded as she spoke, the groom never took his eyes from Shan after that.

  Maurynna continued, “Shan traveled by himself from Dragonskeep. Otter and I ran across him in the city; Otter asked me to bring him to Linden Rathan. As you can see, Shan is rather a mess.”

  Shan snorted and seized a lock of her hair.

  “Ow! Stop that! You are a mess, Shan, even if you are a beautiful mess. Do you really want Linden to see you like this?” She batted at his nose.

  Shan forbore tugging as he considered that. He dropped her hair and shook his head.

  “Gaw!” the groom said, his eyes huge.

  “Then please go with the groom. I’ll tell Linden you’re here.” She rubbed Shan’s ears. To the groom and the others now standing a respectful distance behind him, she said, “Remember, this is no ordinary horse. Don’t try to halter or tie him—I don’t think Linden Rathan would be pleased by that. If you need Shan to do anything, just tell him. He can understand everything you say.”

  “Gaw!” the groom said again. An excited buzz rose from the group behind him.

  Shan raised his head and lipped at her cheek. He stepped lightly away from her and strode toward the stables. The grooms fell in around him like an honor guard.

  Maurynna watched them until they passed the wide doors to the stable. Then she looked up at the manor house. Rows of blank windows stared back at her. She wondered if Linden Rathan’s chamber was on this side of the house. Had he seen Shan’s arrival? Was he even now on his way?

  Not bloody likely. Face it; you’re going to have to go in and tell him yourself. And you do want to see him again, she told herself. Even if he was a wretch to you, you want to see him. No pride; no pride at all.

  Why did she have to want Linden so much? Maurynna squared her shoulders and set off before despair could claim her.

  A rapping at the chamber door woke Linden from a fitful doze. He sat up and shook his head, trying to clear the fog from his mind.

  Was his bath ready? He vaguely remembered servants passing through, bearing ewers of steaming water to the bathing room. He’d only closed his eyes for a moment … .

  He must have fallen asleep again. Damn. He’d truly meant to get up today. Another hazy memory came back: one of the servants shaking him, telling him his bath was ready. But the effort to rise had been too much.

  It still was. He curled up once more into the welcoming softness of the featherbed.

  The knock came again. “Go away,” he called, sinking back into greyness.

  Louder and sharper came the knock this time. He heard muffled voices arguing in the hall.

  “I said ‘go away,’ blast it,” he snarled. A tiny flare of anger smoldered in the greyness. When he felt up to it, he’d find out who the impertinent servant was and—r />
  A booming thud filled the room as the door reverberated from a kick. An angry voice said, “The nine hells I will. Curse you, Linden—open this door right now!” Sounds of a scuffle followed.

  Linden shot upright. “Maurynna?” Oh, gods—what was she doing here? Snapping out of his funk, Linden threw himself out of the bed and snatched up a pair of breeches from the floor. As he pulled them on he heard Maurynna cry out. He yelled “Leave her alone!” as he ran to the door and flung it open.

  He found two of the servants holding a struggling Maurynna. His heart thudded at the sight of her; the heaviness smothering him lifted. “Let her go,” he snapped.

  The men jumped back from her as if she were on fire. At his curt “Leave us!” they bowed and retreated rapidly down the hall.

  Maurynna rubbed her wrists. He could see marks where her bracelets had dug into her skin. Her lips were pressed into a tight line and her odd-colored eyes were sullen. She looked him up and down and then looked away.

  He rubbed his chin nervously. His fingers rasped against beard. The amount surprised him; surely he had shaved recently? He couldn’t remember. His exploring fingers met lank strands of hair. They felt greasy. He must look like hell.

  All at once the familiar weariness overtook Linden, the flare of energy smothered under the weight of Maurynna’s obvious contempt. He sagged against the doorframe. Forcing himself to speak, he asked, “What are you doing here?”

  She drew herself up. Her nostrils flared proudly as she said, “I brought you a surprise. I think you’ll like it very much.”

  Puzzled, he stared at her empty hands. The effort to think was too much. “What do you mean?”

  “Let me in and I’ll tell you.”

  Before he could move, she pushed her way past him into the room. He followed, shutting the door.

  For the first time he noticed how stale the air in the room was. He’d not allowed the windows to be opened since his illness. Not even the window hangings had been opened; that the sun shone as always seemed a mockery.