Chapter Five
The dragons flew rapidly to the north, urgency in the rapid beating of its wings. Soon it dwindled to little more than a speck in the brightening sky.
Maurynna paused in the doorway to the balcony, wondering which Dragonlord was abroad so early and with such pressing need. She knew it for one of her kind and no truedragon; whoever it was, he—or she—was much smaller than her soultwin Linden’s dragon form. And even he, she’d been told, was no match for a truedragon.
She finished wrapping the light robe around herself and continued into the new day, considering what it might mean.
She’d caught only a glimpse, just enough to tell her that the dragon was dark, either black or brown. Jekkanadar or Sulae, perhaps? She knew they were both black in dragon form; but then so were a few others. If brown, well, there were too many to hazard a guess. Maurynna pursed her lips in frustration. She was too new at Dragonskeep to know her fellow Dragonlords by sight in both of their forms.
Ah, well; no doubt she would find out eventually. She would put it from her mind and enjoy the early morning. It had always been her favorite part of the day.
The thought brought back a memory of the sea and the feel of her ship beneath her feet; she pushed it away and concentrated on what was before her. This was her life now.
The mountain air was still cold with the passing night; she shivered but made no move to go back inside. Instead she marveled at the colors of the mountains as the light spread across them, reaching bright fingers across the great plateau to the Keep.
First came the grey of the mountains’ granite bones peering through their skin of earth. Then, as the growing light flowed down the mountainsides, it revealed the pine forests standing guard between frozen peaks and living valley below, hidden now in the morning mist. Below their windswept green ring blazed the autumn leaves of maples, oaks, aspens, and many other trees Maurynna couldn’t name, turning the valley walls into a tapestry of frozen fire that inched downward day by day.
Autumn in Thalnia, her home country, never announced itself with such a fanfare of color, nor did it begin so early. Maurynna refused to think of what was to follow: snow that would bury the passes, trapping those who could not fly within Dragonskeep until the spring. She would not think of that; she would think only of the beauty before her.
Remember how you dreamed of this when you were a child listening to Otter’s tales before the fire.
How she’d dreamed, indeed—and now it was real. Joy blazed in her heart. She, Maurynna Erdon, was one of the great weredragons.
Maurynna Kyrissaean, a sleepy voice corrected in her mind. Your dragon half would not like to be neglected, the voice added with a chuckle. She’s a most opinionated lady—for all that she won’t speak to me, Rathan, or anyone else.
Maurynna made a wry face at the reminder, then concentrated; mindspeech was another thing new to her. I’m sorry. Was I shouting again? As always when she used mindspeech, she felt what she could only describe as an “echo” buzzing in her skull. It made her want to open her head and scratch.
Only a little; no further than me, anyway. You’re doing much better. What are you doing up so early, love?
On the heels of his words, her soultwin Linden Rathan padded out onto the balcony in his bare feet. Linden’s long blond hair was tousled, his dark grey eyes still heavy with sleep. He rubbed at them, yawning. Maurynna caught a glimpse of the wine-colored birthmark that covered his right temple and eyelid—his Marking. He wore only a pair of breeches against the chill.
Maurynna shivered at the sight and shrank into her robe.
One eyebrow went up as he smiled. “Are you cold? Silly goose, did you forget you could call up a heat spell now? Come here.”
She went happily into his arms, turning in them so that she could look out over the mountains once more. Sometimes there were advantages to forgetting one was a Dragonlord, she told herself smugly as she pressed her back against her soultwin’s broad chest. Linden must have called up a heat spell even before getting out of bed. Someday such things would become second nature, but for now she was content to stand with Linden’s chin resting on the top of her head, his arms warm around her, and gaze out at the mountains that were her home now.
Yet try as she might, she could not think of them as home. They were beautiful, yes. But they were not the refuge of her heart. She admitted it to herself: she wanted the Sea Mist back.
I’d only just become a captain, she thought sadly. It was still all bright and shiny and new.
And the thought of being trapped in the Keep for the long northern winter nearly made her scream in panic.
Though she knew it would do her as much good as beating her head against the proverbial stone wall, she had to try once more. “Must we stay here? I’d like to see my family and friends in Thalnia one last time. I never had a chance to say good-bye to them.”
Linden sighed and rubbed his cheek against her hair. “I’m sorry, dearheart, but you know what the Lady has decreed. She’s concerned because you can’t Change; she feels it’s safer for you here. Besides, there is the matter of Kyrissaean.”
Ah, yes; the matter of Kyrissaean. The recalcitrant, irritating, inexplicable dragon half of her soul. Who refused to speak to any Dragonlord or even another dragonsoul, yet always lurked in the back of Maurynna’s mind. Who would not let Maurynna Change, who kept her earthbound and chained to the Keep.
Damn Kyrissaean. It would be long and long indeed before she forgave her draconic half.
Maurynna fumed. “I hate being coddled. And you’re coddling me—all of you.”
“Yes,” Linden agreed equably. Maurynna wondered if he guessed how tempted she was to kick him for it. “We are; I am,” he went on. “It’s been far too long since there was a new Dragonlord. And I waited far too long for you, love. Bear with us.”
And if you all drive me into screaming fits because you’re smothering me? Then what? But she held her tongue; the last thing she wanted to do was fight with Linden first thing in the morning. Especially not when he nibbled her neck so gently.
Eyes closed, she let her head fall back against his shoulder to make it easier for him. His hands slid up to her breasts. Oh, yes; a fight could wait at least until after breakfast.
But when, much later, they reached the great hall where the meals were served, something drove all thoughts of argument from Maurynna’s mind.
A young man stood with his back to her. As tall as Linden, though not as broad of shoulder and chest, he conferred with Tamiz, one of the kir servants. His hair glinted red-gold in the late morning sunlight pouring through the tall, narrow windows. He wore it in the Yerrin fashion, as Linden did his: shoulder length save for a long, narrow clan braid hanging from the nape of his neck and down his back. But where Linden’s braid bore the four-strand pattern of a noble and was bound with the blue, white, and green of Snow Cat clan, this man sported Marten clan’s black and green tying off the three-strand braid of a commoner.
Curly, reddish hair was common among Yerrins, and Marten a large clan. It might be anyone. Still … .
Tamiz nodded, a sudden grin appearing on her short-muzzled face. She beckoned the man to follow. The set of shoulders and head was distinctive, but it was the horseman’s walk that gave him away beyond a doubt.
“Raven!” Maurynna gasped. Then, louder, “Raven—what are you doing here?” She ran across the wide floor.
Raven stopped, looked back over his shoulder; his face lit up at the sight of her. “Beanpole!” he cried as he caught her in a hug.
Maurynna hugged him back, forgetting that she was now much stronger than she had been as a truehuman.
“Ooof!” Raven wheezed in surprise.
“Oh, gods, Raven—I’m sorry. I forgot,” Maurynna said, laughing in delight. What was her best friend in all the world doing here?
Raven avoided her eyes. “So did I,” he said at last. “I’m sorry, Your Gr—”
Maurynna went cold. Not from Raven. Pleas
e—not from the boy she’d traded black eyes and heartfelt secrets with all her life. She couldn’t stand it.
“Finish saying it, lad, and you’ll be lucky if all she does is knock you down,” Linden said as he came up. He clapped Raven on the shoulder. “Remember me? We met when you were a child. When did you arrive?”
“Late last night, Dragonlord.” Raven bowed, then stared a moment before blurting out, “But you’re not as tall as I remember, my lord.”
Linden laughed. “And you’re not as little as I remember. You’ll certainly not be sitting in my lap any more. Otter warned me a while ago that you’d grown. Speaking of him, isn’t your disreputable great-uncle awake yet?”
“I kept him up last night,” Raven said with a smile.
“No excuse for him—not today,” Linden said. “Lazy wretch. Tamiz, if Otter’s playing slug-a-bed this fine day, tell him I said you could pour a bucket of cold water over him to rouse him. Dragonlord’s orders, in fact.”
Tamiz laughed and went off. There was a wicked glint in her eye.
Oh, my—she wouldn’t, would she? Maurynna turned back to find Raven staring at her.
“So it’s true,” he said.
“Yes.” She swallowed. Why was her mouth suddenly so dry?
Linden said nothing, only shifted so that their shoulders lightly touched.
“I used to tease you about your eyes, that they were a Marking because they were two different colors,” Raven said. His voice was flat and tight. “I never thought I was right.” A long silence, then, “You won’t ever come home again, will you?”
There was pain in the words, and resentment. But what hurt most were the unshed tears she heard. He shifted his gaze to Linden. A long look passed between them.
“Ah,” said Linden at last. In her mind he said, I think there was more on Raven’s side than just friendship, love. You two had best talk. Take him to an out of the way corner; I’ll see that you’re not disturbed.
Confused, Maurynna said, What do you mean, ‘more than—’
Talk to him, Maurynna.
And Linden left them alone. Maurynna studied Raven; it was like facing a stranger. “This way; we can talk over here.” She hoped she didn’t sound as lost and lonely as she felt.
He followed her without speaking. She led him past the Dragonlords and visitors dining at the tables to one of the little alcoves that opened off the great hall. Cushioned benches lined the walls, a cozy place for friendly confidences. It seemed a mockery. She took a seat; Raven hesitated as if unsure whether he should sit in the presence of a Dragonlord.
Maurynna glared at him. He sat. Not as close as he once would have, but not as far away as she had feared.
A stiff silence hung over them for too many long, awkward moments. Then Raven asked again, “Will you ever come back?”
Maurynna bit her lip. “They’ll have to let me go sometime—I hope.”
Raven started in surprise. “They’re keeping you here against your will?”
She shrugged. How to explain this? And should she? She knew that Dragonlords kept secrets from truehumans lest those few against the weredragons find a weakness to exploit.
But this was Raven. She made her decision and damn anyone who disagreed. “Not quite. The Lady says it’s for my own safety. The Lady would likely also say I shouldn’t tell you, but … I—I can’t Change at will. Something … happened the first time. It was agony and it’s not supposed to be. Now Kyrissaean, my dragon half, won’t let me become a dragon. She stops me whenever I try. Did you hear what happened in Cassori a few months ago, the regency debate?”
Raven nodded. “Yes, we got the news when the Sea Mist came home to Stormhaven. How the Dragonlords had been called in as judges, how you’d gone to trade there and that you’d become—” His voice nearly broke. A moment later he went on, “I heard it from Master Remon himself.”
The breath caught in Maurynna’s chest at the mention of Remon, her former first mate. She wondered what he’d thought when the Cassorin ship caught up to him with its astonishing news. Never mind that; what had the poor man thought when he’d found her missing from the Sea Mist? She imagined how Remon had felt when he’d walked into her cabin only to find it empty, the open window bearing silent witness to his captain’s disappearance.
Raven continued, “Great-uncle Otter told me more last night; that’s why we were up late. But he didn’t tell me everything; he said some was your tale to tell me if you wished.”
It was a moment before she could say, “We didn’t discover the problem, you see, while we stayed in Casna. Then, because Linden’s Llysanyin stallion Shan had escaped from Dragonskeep and made his way to the city looking for Linden, we decided to ride back. It seemed the best thing. Shan made it plain he wouldn’t tolerate another rider and Linden was afraid I’d overreached myself on my first flight. The other two Dragonlords who had served as judges with Linden, Kief Shaeldar, and Tarlna Aurianne, agreed. They flew home the day we set out.
“All seemed well, but one day on the journey Linden wanted to show me something from the air. It was to be a short flight, nothing difficult—and that’s when it happened. I couldn’t Change again.”
Maurynna swallowed against the memory; even remembering that pain made her queasy. “Not that time, not the other few times I’ve had the courage to try. It’s never happened before in anyone’s memory, and there’s no mention of such a thing in any of the records. Both the Lady of Dragonskeep and her soultwin Kelder as well as the two archivists Jenna and Lukai, all of the kir recorders, Linden and I have spent candlemarks searching them. I keep hoping there’s an answer … .”
“I’m sorry for that,” Raven said. “Truly sorry.” Then, “You and … Linden Rathan … .”
The pain was back in his voice. Maurynna suddenly understood. “Raven—did you … did you think that we would … ?”
He turned bright red. “Um, ah—yes. I did. We got along so well, you see. And we always made up after a fight. We wouldn’t have to get used to another person’s ways, either of us.”
“Raven, you don’t really consider that a good reason to get married, do you?” The thought boggled her. She had certainly never felt that way.
Raven said, “It’s better than some.”
She had to admit that he was right; indeed, it was a better reason than many she’d heard.
But it still wasn’t enough.
“It seemed so simple. We’ve always been comfortable together,” he finished plaintively.
If she’d had something to hand, she would have thrown it. Marry her because she was comfortable, like a pair of old boots? Because it was the easy way out? She considered hitting him but remembered her new strength in time. “What!”
From the corner of her eye she could see heads turning to look. She didn’t care. “Oh, for—! Raven, yes, I love you, you idiot, but as a friend.” She relented at the hurt in his eyes. More gently she said, “Don’t you see? We would never have had a chance. Even if we had married, I would’ve had to leave you once I’d Changed the first time. Try to understand; I don’t just love Linden. He’s part of me—literally. That’s what being a soultwin means. I would have had to go to him no matter what.”
He nodded. His voice shook when he spoke. “I’m trying … to, to understand. I do here,” he touched his forehead. He continued, “But I’m having trouble here,” and laid a hand over his heart. “I’d always thought we’d marry, then go to my aunt in Yerrih. You know she wants me to help her raise and train her horses.”
The words shocked Maurynna. Not his plans; she’d known about his plans for years. But she’d never known of his plans for her.
Feeling the walls of the Keep closing in, she got slowly to her feet. Suddenly there wasn’t enough air to breathe. “You thought I would give up the sea so easily? That I could?”
She couldn’t believe it. Raven of all people should know what having her own ship meant to her. He had dreams as well. “Hang it all! Don’t any of you understand?�
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Maurynna bolted from the alcove and out of the great hall. Through the halls of the great Keep she ran, ignoring those who called to her, running like a deer from the hounds, running from those who wanted to bury her alive.
It was silly and childish—she knew that. But neither could she sit still any longer. She’d suffocate.
One of the postern doors was open to the fresh morning air. Maurynna went through it like a bolt of lightning looking for a target.
She didn’t stop until she reached the paddocks behind the Llysanyins’ stable. A leap that she wouldn’t have even considered trying a few short months ago carried her over the fence to her Llysanyin stallion’s yard. She landed, nearly lost her balance, but caught herself before she sprawled facedown in the dirt.
Boreal trotted to her, snorting concern over his person’s agitation. Maurynna buried her face in his mane and wrapped her arms around the dappled grey neck, fighting back tears of frustration and anger.
I can’t be a proper Dragonlord, I can’t be a ship’s captain at all, and everyone wants to either wrap me in wool like some glass bauble or drag me off to fulfill their dreams. Damn it, it’s not fair!
Boreal draped his head over her shoulder and pulled her closer. Encouraged by the intelligent animal’s sympathy, she drew breath to recite her list of grievances.
With my luck, the horse will be the only one who understands. The sudden thought made her break into a wry, hiccuping laugh.
“Thank the gods,” a lilting—if ironic—voice said behind her, “you’re not crying after all. I had wondered about that from the way you fell on Boreal’s neck. For alas and alack, little one, you’re a wee bit large for me to cuddle on my lap for comforting.”
This is a work of fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.
THE LAST DRAGONLORD
Copyright © 1998 by Joanne Bertin
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
The Last Dragonlord Page 48
