Sinjin's dragon shifted and adjusted itself to get more comfortable then gave a great sigh. Hooded eyes twitched and the dragon seemed content.
"You won't believe how much those things can eat," Durin said. "It's only sleeping now because it gorged itself. Two whole fish he ate! I had to cut it up, and I couldn't cut fast enough. I had to let him gnaw on one while I cut the other."
Sinjin noted that Durin assumed the dragon was male, though he had the same sense. There was no outward sign to easily indicate sex, yet Sinjin felt confident that this was a male dragon. If there were a female hatchling, would she be the queen? Could there be more than one? Questions filled Sinjin's mind, and he thought so much uncertainty might relieve him of his sanity.
"Do you think they are like the ferals?" Sinjin asked, knowing there was no way Durin could tell any more than he could. Neither had any point of reference. Perhaps this was exactly how Thorakis had succumbed to the dragons. It may have started innocently at first and grown over time once the bond was formed. This bond was not something of conjecture for Sinjin; already he could feel it. He and this dragon were bonding. Already he felt the need to protect this frail creature that nuzzled his side. Already he knew that he could not kill this dragon; if this were a creature of darkness, then he was lost. Not wanting Durin to know his thoughts, Sinjin said nothing of these feelings.
"The Arghast who weren't chosen have been more gracious than you might guess," Durin said, not noticing what must have shown in Sinjin's eyes. "They've vowed to provide for the 'Drakon,' which is what they call those with dragons."
Drakon--the word raised the hair on Sinjin's neck, and he looked to Durin, who now seemed uncertain.
"They have a name for you now," Durin said after a long pause. Sinjin watched his friend with a strange sense of anticipation. It should not matter what anyone called him since that would in no way change who he was, but still Sinjin felt as if this moment would change things. "They call you Al'Drakon."
The title felt heavy.
"It means 'First Dragon,'" Durin said. "Halmsa said it is the highest honor."
Sinjin let that statement sink in. What had he gotten himself into? He'd come here to help the Arghast and to make sure the dragons did not threaten the world, and now he'd bonded with a dragon and had become something entirely different to these people; he'd become a part of them. In some ways it helped him to feel as if he had purpose and that he belonged, but mostly it made him feel strange and frightened. So much had changed. Once he'd thought he knew what his future held, but now he couldn't imagine what would come next.
"It looks like you're feeling a good bit better," Benjin said from one side, "and you look far better pink than blue."
"I was just telling Al'Drakon about what happened after he swooned," Durin said with a wicked grin.
"I didn't swoon and don't call me Al'Drakon," Sinjin said, and Durin barked a laugh.
"You'd better get used to it," Benjin said. "The Arghast now refer to you exclusively as Al'Drakon, and they say it with a wild look in their eyes."
"But--" Sinjin said and his dragon stirred. All three watched the magnificent little creature as its hooded eyes opened, revealing eyes like sparkling jewels, liquid and looking deep. For the first time, the dragon looked at Sinjin with calm, knowing eyes. Truly he was lost. If killing the dragon was the right thing to do, he no longer possessed the ability to do what was right; that was the thing that worried him most. Still, in the gaze of this wonderful creature, he felt at peace, he felt as if everything would be as it should, even though things in the world were clearly not as they should be.
"What's his name?" Benjin asked quietly, seemingly afraid to frighten the dragon.
"I don't--" Sinjin started to say, but then he knew. The knowing was absolute and left no room for doubt or conjecture. His parents had taught him the power of names, and he knew this was no small thing. "Valterius," Sinjin said, and the named felt good as it left his lips. Valterius closed his eyes slowly and gave a subtle nod then he pressed his forehead against Sinjin's side and nuzzled him.
"Valterius," Benjin said, and the dragon eyed him with a look full of suspicion and doubt. "A powerful name, indeed." At those words, Valterius gave Benjin an even less pronounced nod before hiding his head in Sinjin's armpit. "I'm glad to see you doing well. I suggest you rest a day or two and regain your strength. Millie has some broth heating, and I'm going to go down with the fishing crew and see if I can help them catch more fish. Something tells me that we're going to need a steady supply."
Valterius cooed at those words and continued to nuzzle Sinjin.
Durin shook his head. "I have to admit," he said. "I didn't see this coming."
"Me either," Sinjin said.
Chapter 16
Few things are as dangerous as belief.
--Master Edling
* * *
War was coming. Sensi was a fool. He should've seen this coming. He should have known. Sensi walked faster than he would under any other circumstances. They had been complacent, and now they would all pay the price. Sweat gathered at his brow, and he wiped it away. Entering the Hall of the Forbearers, he ignored the carved representations of the first council; he'd seen them many times before. Only some of those there to represent the Midlands had seen them before, and the others were still a bit wide eyed. The stonework and the way the natural colors within the rock had been highlighted to make them look so real were enough to baffle even the most experienced among them.
At the center of the room was an ancient table made from the cross section of some giant tree, one larger than any known to the lands. This, too, was enough to intimidate and amaze. At one side of the table waited the council and the lord chancellor. They looked as if they were trying to appear nonchalant; they were failing. Sensi knew he was as well. Opposite them sat Lord Bercheron of the Midlands and his sycophants.
Between the groups and clearly not with either group sat Onin. He took up as much space as two other men, and those from the Midlands avoided eye contact with him, which was not so different from those from the Heights. Onin had not officially been invited to this meeting, but he couldn't be kept away; it was within his rights as a member of the old guard. He and his dragon were granted the same rights and access as the current guard, save to the lord chancellor's quarters.
Most of the old guard no longer involved themselves with the business of the realm, but then again, most of the old guard didn't have dragons and didn't still actively fly in defense of the trade routes. Onin was an enigma, as was Jehregard. Neither of them fit in or seemed to want to fit in. They simply were as they were, and no amount of pressure from others was going to change them.
Sensi poured wine for those gathered and drank some from each cup before wiping the rim and handing it to his desired recipient. He started with those from the Mids, and they waited to drink. Next, he served the lord chancellor and the council; they, too, refrained from drinking. Before pouring himself a cup, Sensi poured for Onin and walked around the table to serve him. Before Sensi had even walked away, the big man sniffed the contents of the cup, grunted, and downed it in a single gulp. After slamming the cup down on the table, he dragged his arm across his mouth to wipe away the excess.
The others avoided looking at him even more intensely.
"Would it be so that we met under less dire circumstances," the lord chancellor said. "Your journey's been long. May this wine quench your thirst and wash away the weariness of your travels."
The formal greeting finished, all but Onin drank.
"It's going to take more than that," Onin said, holding his cup out to Sensi and wiggling it just a little.
Sensi had every right to be insulted, but he would leave that to the rest in the room. The air sang with tension, and Sensi had to admit that Onin did serve a purpose at this meeting. He gave the lord chancellor and Lord Bercheron a common adversary, both in the room and in the Jaga. Sensi filled Onin's cup, and the brute downed another cup and grabbed Sens
i's arms, guiding him to fill it one more time before he left. "Would anyone else like more wine?" Sensi asked. The fact that no one else had done more than sip the wine only highlighted Onin's behavior.
"The ferals have been fooling us for some time," the lord chancellor continued, ignoring Onin. "We don't know how long, but it appears to have been enough time to amass significant strength."
"How has this activity gone undetected?" Lord Bercheron asked. "You've been flying over the Jaga all this time. How could you have been unaware of this?"
"The state of the black swamp has remained largely the same for years," the lord chancellor said. "We'd see abominations within the swamp and ferals flying low, but we never saw any outside the blackness. We knew the men that lived within the black swamp had a ship or two, but we never saw more than one of them at a time."
"Then where?" Lord Bercheron asked.
"Uninhabited islands," the lord chancellor said, "in the Endless Sea."
Lord Bercheron didn't say anything for a long while, clearly disturbed by the implications. "How many ships and how many . . . troops?"
"We don't know," the lord chancellor said. "We believe we've only seen a part of their overall strength."
"Why don't you send your dragons to investigate?" Lord Bercheron asked.
"The same reason that no one in their right mind sails the Endless Sea: it's too dangerous. Ships and dragons alike tend to disappear within that great expanse. We can't afford to lose dragons. Even flying the trade routes is treacherous. Ferals have been seen flying high, and we'll need all our strength to keep trade open."
"What do you propose?"
"A coordinated strike," the lord chancellor said. "A single, preplanned, and fortified attack with all the supplies and rations needed in place well before the attack starts. Using overwhelming force, we can close the black swamp in a vice."
Lord Bercheron looked as if he liked that plan not at all.
"You haven't the slightest chance of taking that swamp on the ground," Onin said, and Sensi winced.
"On that we agree," Lord Bercheron said.
The lord chancellor looked as if he might burst into flame. "I believe if we come from the air and the ground, we'll have the best chance of solving this problem once and for all. We can set the black swamp ablaze and drive them out. All the ground forces have to do is deal with the filth that crawls out. It should be no more difficult than an afternoon hunt."
Sensi knew the lord chancellor was playing on the Midlands' love of hunting, and he doubted it would be enough.
"There'll be a high price," Lord Bercheron said. "A lord's ransom in blood."
"It will be so either way," Onin said. "They have the strength to defeat us, or they would still be hiding."
"What would you have us do?" the lord chancellor asked Onin, his patience gone. "Lie down and die?"
"I would have you think, and then I would have you fight, but you won't fight. You'll sit up here and sip wine while the people of the Heights and the Midlands die. I would ask you to open your eyes and think, but you won't do it. You're blind."
Sensi wasn't certain Onin was wrong, but he also wasn't certain his input was all that helpful. The others in the room clearly agreed with him on that point.
"Ask yourself why the first time we see more than one of their ships, they're damaged, clearly from battle. Must you not then ask yourself who they fought?"
"You're not going to quote prophecy, are you?" the lord chancellor asked, his voice pained.
"The signs have come," Onin said. "The Herald of Istra will come. And even if you think I'm crazy for heeding the warnings of our forefathers--"he looked around at the lifelike statues of those very people"--then consider the fact that you need to know who they've been fighting, where, and what their strength is. You'll get none of this quickly enough without a dragon."
"If all you were looking for was permission to take your dragon and go in search of fairy tales, then you should've just said so," the lord chancellor snapped.
Sensi then saw how clever Onin had been. The lord chancellor did not have the authority to tell Onin where to go, but he did have the right to ground any dragon he felt was unfit for flight. It had happened before when an older dragon's frailties endangered the lives of all those around them, including other dragons. Already there weren't enough dragons to keep up with the trade needs, and too few were the hatchlings. The unspoken fear for all those in the Heights came from the knowledge that the dragons' numbers were dwindling, along with them went the reasons people chose to live in the Heights. They were a dying civilization, even if they didn't want to admit it. Onin's dragon had enough abnormalities that he could have been considered unsafe for flight at hatching, but everyone knew the story of how Onin had saved Jehregard.
"Go," the lord chancellor said. "Take your dragon and go. It'll be a pity if you don't make it back."
Onin walked from the room smiling.
* * *
Standing in what was being called the wind channel, Sinjin held onto Valterius, his hands wrapped firmly around the dragon's legs. Never would he have believed how quickly the dragons would grow--or eat, for that matter. Those responsible for catching enough fish to feed all the hungry dragons were hard pressed, but those with dragons were in no position to help. It had become apparent that young dragons required constant care, attention, and feeding. To neglect any of these needs was to be pecked, nudged, nipped, or scolded. The ever-growing creature somehow knew its strength and managed to keep from seriously injuring Sinjin, but that didn't mean he didn't have bruises to show for his missteps.
Benjin had warned that they might not be able to provide sufficient fish for the dragons as the majestic creatures grew. Sinjin worried more about this than anything else, even as Valterius spread his wings and nearly lifted them both from the ground. The steady and predictable wind here made the place ideal for practicing flying, and Valterius seemed to love lifting Sinjin enough to scare him. Part of him wanted to let Valterius go and hope he would come back, but he came from a family of horse trainers, and he'd been warned that he might never see the dragon again if he let him go. It wouldn't be long before he would have no choice but to let the dragon do as it wished. At their current rate of growth, they'd be the size of horses within a week. Valterius continued to fill out, his body no longer thin, yet he flew with ease and confidence.
Again Valterius cried out and lifted Sinjin from the stone. This time he didn't immediately put Sinjin back down, and there was a sick feeling in Sinjin's gut as they soared across the hollow mountain toward open air. Never before had Valterius shown so much strength; Sinjin had underestimated him. Faster they flew, and the time left to make a decision was rapidly running out.
"Sinjin!" Durin's voice called from behind them.
Time ran out.
Trusting his gut and Valterius, Sinjin let go. Hitting the stone, he rolled and skidded to a stop a scant distance from the edge. Valterius moved upward sharply when Sinjin let go, but he quickly corrected and let out a final call before bursting into the skies beyond. Nursing new bruises, Sinjin watched his dragon disappear into the clouds.
* * *
It was with great personal pride and purpose that Onin guided Jehregard away from the Heights, leaving all the land-bound behind. They didn't understand him, and they never would. The lord chancellor thought him daft and had only allowed him to leave in the hopes that he'd never return. Onin had counted on this, and he didn't care how he'd won that victory, only that he got what he needed, which was permission to fly outside the established trade routes. Onin had pushed the limits for as long as the restriction had been put into effect, but he'd never been at much risk of repercussions. The rules were meant to protect the valuable dragons, and Jehregard did not fit that definition for most. For what was to come, though, he would need the support of the council, and this had given him their approval no matter what their motivations.
Though his destination was the Endless Sea, and Onin was more
than anxious to begin his search, he couldn't help but do a sweep over the eastern coast of the Jaga. It was beautiful this time of year, at least from above, and he was grateful once again for Jehregard; the two of them had been through more than anyone would ever know. Certainly they had suffered more for the Heights than the lord chancellor ever had, yet most thought him daft or mad. No one spoke of Jehregard within his hearing, at least no one who wanted to remain alive, but he knew the things people said. They'd never know the selfless service his dragon had provided for longer than most of them had been alive, and that was the rub; he was old, outdated, obsolete. There was no more king, and the old guard were little more than decoration; they no longer served any purpose.
Onin had refused to share that fate. He and Jehregard continued to fly flanking maneuvers for the trade flights. Having no official role in the missions left him the latitude to explore along the outer edges of the trade routes. He had seen things there that others would claim were illusions or tricks of the eye, but he'd seen them, and no one had flown as low and close over the black swamp as he and Jehregard. It was not a memory he relished, but at least he understood what they were facing, which was more than he could say for any of those within the Heights. The fools thought their problem was confined to the Jaga, and they were about to find out just how large Godsland really was.
Riding the thermals, Jehregard took them higher, and Onin wrapped his face in furs. The land looked surreal from such height, and he was once again amazed by the majesty of flight. Slapping Jehregard on the neck, Onin knew his mighty friend barely felt it, but it was easier than swinging a hammer at the dragon's rocklike hide.
Looking down, Onin saw a disturbing sight: dozens of feral dragons swarming over the marshes and jungle. It was like looking down on sharks in the water from above, except these dangerous beasts were in the air. Despite the cold, a bead of sweat formed on Onin's brow. He and Jehregard could handle one or two ferals, which was the most that had been seen at one time in years, but now there were dozens. They would tear them apart.
The Balance of Power (Godsland Series: Books Four, Five, and Six) Page 65
