His head was heavy, the buzzing of insects so loud in his ears that he could hardly think. He lay down, arms shielding his eyes from the brightness of the moon. What by all the Gods was he to do? Tears prickled, but he blinked them away. That was foolish – there must be something he could do. Perhaps Mesanthia could help him, as Garrett had suggested? Garrett… his one true friend, the only one who’d never criticised him or pressured him or despaired of him. The only one who’d never once laughed at him.
Garrett… where was he now? Somewhere in the Bay. At the inn, probably. Perhaps he was with Larissa, or maybe he’d spent the evening with Zamannah, and was even now walking back to the inn. If only Ruell were a dragon, he could hover above the Bay, and he might be able to see Garrett walking through the streets. Twice he’d done that, in his dreams, looking down on the little town, although not on Garrett. If he closed his eyes, he could still recall it, vivid in his mind, the flickering night lamps and the gleam of metal on the guards patrolling the old walls and the harbour. There’d been a big group walking together, he remembered, wearing bright, celebratory clothes, noisy with drink and excitement. A wedding party, perhaps.
He smiled, running the scene past his mind’s eye. Such a nice dragon, that one, a female, quite small but agile, her wings manoeuvring this way and that as she delighted in the updraft keeping her aloft. He sank back into memory, feeling the way her muscles had moved and the sensation of air under—
~~~~~
—his wings.
The view of the Bay was gone, and there was only sea below him, grey, heaving sea and a scattering of small islands. His mind was filled with surprise. And amusement. The dragon was amused. But he recognised her, since he’d just been thinking about her.
‘Hello, little one. Ruell? Is that right? Have we met before?’
‘Um… once, yes,”Ruell said, although no words came out.‘Allavrissha? Where are we?’
‘Above the archipelago once called the Isles of Remembrance in Glass. But there is no one there any more.’
There was so much sadness in her voice that he was almost swept away by it.
‘I’ve never heard of it. Do you know the Windblown Isles?’
A rumble of dragon laughter. ‘They are all windblown, little Ruell.’
He laughed too. ‘I suppose they are. Can you show me around a bit? Just so that I can get my bearings? Please?’
More laughter. ‘You are very polite.’
Obligingly she circled slowly round, but he saw nothing familiar. Apart from a narrow line of islands, there was nothing but empty sea.
‘Do you know Sand Eagle Bay? On the mainland?’
‘Is that a human name? I only know the old names. Everything has changed.’ Again, her sadness washed over him.
‘It’s the only town around here…’He paused, because he had no idea whereherewas. ‘A small cove with a stony beach between two promontories…’More dragon laughter, and Ruell laughed too. ‘Well, that doesn’t narrow it down much, does it?’
‘Not much. Any towers or castles? Is it close to the Sraeh?’
‘No towers or castles. The… Sraeh? That’s like a hiding place, right?’
‘The Refuge. No matter. The mainland. Let us go, little one.’
She stretched her wings wide, turning with slow, lazy flaps to—
~~~~~
Earth on his face, and gravel. Sharp stones scraping at him. Falling, falling, falling, arms flailing. Slithering, sliding, slipping downwards. Something slapped him on the face, hard. He scrabbled, grabbed, grass and stones shot through his hands. Then, abruptly, he hit something semi-solid and skidded to a halt in the middle of a bush.
For a moment, he lay, finding it hard to breathe.
Dimly, far away in his mind, came the thought, “Ruell? Are you all right?”
Then, with an almost audible pop, she was gone.
For a while, he concentrated on breathing. In. Out. In. Out. Gradually it got easier, and he became aware that there was nothing terribly painful. Maybe he was bruised, but it seemed no major damage had been done. He’d just fallen off his grassy seat and tumbled a short way down the cliff. Below him, the sea hissed back and forth against the cliff, but he was safe enough, for the moment.
Once he felt better, he began, very cautiously, to look around him. He was half in the bush, which swayed alarmingly with every little movement he made, but below him he could see solid ground, another small shelf, although mostly rock. Very carefully, he inched his way down from the bush, still holding tight with one hand, until he was on solid ground again. He guessed he was about a third of the way down the cliff. Below him, nothing but jagged rocks and the foaming sea. Above him, it was hard to be sure, but the cliff face leaned back at a manageable angle. It was climbable. Possibly.
Yet what was the alternative? If he waited, sooner or later a search party would come looking for him, but it might not be until tomorrow and even then, would they think to look so far from the palace? If he climbed down, he left himself at the mercy of the tides and the forlorn hope of a passing ship spotting him.
No, there was no alternative. Turning, he stared up at the cliff face, working up the courage to begin the ascent. Once he began, there would be no turning back, he knew that. He would be committed, with only his own courage and skill and luck to protect him. He pressed his forehead against the rock.Gods, give me strength and protect me.
The sky darkened, in a sudden rush of fishy air.‘Ruell?’
“Allavrissha? Is that you?” No, not out loud. He closed his eyes, trying to focus his—
—mind. Dragon laughter.
‘What a mess you are in, little Ruell.’
Oddly, he could look down and see himself, a little brown figure clinging nervously to a small bush poking out of almost solid rock.
‘Allavrissha? I thought I was flying and I fell. I suppose you can’t help me?’
More laughter. He thought she would never stop.
‘Hold your arms out straight. No, sideways. Both arms. I have to be able to pick you up without hurting you. Better. Now keep still.’
He wasn’t tempted to move an inch. Letting go of the bush and holding his arms out left him teetering on a rocky shelf no wider than his feet. He felt sure he would topple over and plummet to his death.
But giant claws closed with infinite delicacy around his arms near the shoulders, and she lifted him up and away from the cliff.
‘Where shall we go?’Another burst of merriment. She was teasing him!
‘Just to the top of the cliff please.’
Gods, it was scary! He closed his eyes, trying not to feel sick, trying not to be confused by the two different views, one through the dragon’s eyes and one through his own. His arms hurt horribly, and he swayed about like a sack of hops.
And then it was over. She set him down gently on the ground without landing herself, and lifted up a few paces.
‘Better, little Ruell?’
‘Yes! Thank you, a thousand times thank you!’
‘You humans, so effusive! One thank you is enough. May I go? I am uncomfortable so near human habitations these days.’
‘Yes, but will I—’
With a pop, the connection broke. In a great churning of dust, she rose into the sky, and now that he saw her properly he realised that she was not small at all. By dragon standards, perhaps, but still she was vast, a great golden monster with green patches on wings and tail, her amber eyes swirling as she watched him.
Then, with a few flaps of her wings she flew over the water and around the perimeter of the island until she disappeared behind the rise in the centre of it and was gone.
He lay still for a while, bemused, counting his injuries. Several places ached or throbbed from where he’d careered down the cliff. His arms hurt from being lifted by Alavrissha; not from her claws but simply from his own weight dangling below. His head was heavy, his ears ringing. But nothing was broken, seemingly.
Then he laughed, and once he’d star
ted, he couldn’t stop. He’d done it – he’d called a dragon! He’d thought of her, found her somewhere in the skies and called her to his aid. Well, perhaps that part was an exaggeration. He’d called her and talked to her, and when he’d fallen she’d come looking for him. She’d rescued him! A dragon had rescued him, and no one had seen it so not a soul would believe it. He laughed even harder.
The moon was close to setting, and already the light was dimming. Time to get back to the palace. It wouldn’t do to stumble on a rabbit hole in the dark and break his neck, not after his great triumph. He walked until he was sure his legs were in full working order and then he jogged, but he couldn’t suppress the wide grin that kept breaking out. He was a dragon caller!
The palace was slipping into its nighttime somnolence when he reached it, but here and there groups had gathered, enjoying the night air and a little relaxation before bed. The courtyard at the foot of his own tower was full of merriment tonight, a dozen or more people spread out on the marble benches sipping from tankards and nibbling dough sticks. He recognised Gryke, one of his childhood friends, with Melliara perched on his knee, his arm round her waist, her breasts level with his face. At any other time, Ruell would have been knocked sideways by jealousy, but tonight he suffered no more than a twinge of regret that he would never be able to cuddle Melliara that way. Such simple pleasures weren’t for him, but it no longer mattered for he could call dragons!
So he smiled and waved cheerfully at them.
Melliara leapt to her feet. “Ruell, whatever happened to you? Have you been in a fight? Are you all right?”
He looked down at himself, for the first time noticing the mud-spattered clothes, with scores of ragged tears and bits of turf caught here and there. He laughed. “I’m fine. Fell down the cliff, that’s all.”
Gryke rolled his eyes and muttered, “Always dreaming.” A couple of the others sniggered.
Ruell chuckled. “No, not dreaming. I was flying with a dragon and forgot I was human for a moment. I was half way down the cliff before I realised.”
There was a ripple of uncertain laughter. Gryke stared at him, not knowing how to respond to that.
“But you’re not hurt?” Melliara said hesitantly.
“Nothing to speak of.”
“Lucky you managed to climb back up,” she said.
He laughed again, and it took him a moment to recover enough to speak. “Not luck. A dragon rescued me. Good night, everyone.”
And, still laughing at the bewilderment and fear etched on their faces, he made his way to his tower and up the stairs to bed.
12: Penance (Garrett)
As soon as Garrett arrived back at the harbour on the Windblown Isle, he knew something was up. Even before the ship tied up, he noticed the unusual number of guards patrolling the cliff above, and the way the large crowd waiting on the wharf huddled together, whispering. There were a number of important visitors from the Bay on board, but even so, the reception was excessive. As Garrett waited for the ropes to be secured, he was aware of glances in his direction.
And then there was Mikah waiting for him. Not a good sign.
“Let’s walk down to those rocks, out of earshot,” Mikah said.
“You’re worrying me,” Garrett said. “Has there been a death? Illness? A big fight?”
He laughed, but nervously. “Nothing like that. Everyone’s fine… I think.”
Garrett grunted, but said no more until they were seated on the rocks. Then he waited.
“It’s Ruell,” Mykah said.
Garrett’s heart somersaulted painfully. “Gods! Whatever’s happened? He’s not… injured?”
“No, no! At least, nothing worth mentioning. But there was a dragon… Ruell says he was flying with a dragon, then he fell down a cliff somewhere and the dragon rescued him.”
“What!”
“And it’s true, too. At least, therewas a dragon, because it was seen flying away and I’m in big trouble because no one saw it arrive or sounded the alarm.”
“Wait… the dragon was on the island?”
“Well now… that’s what we’re not sure about. Ruell says it was, but no one else saw it close up, just disappearing into the distance. Anyway, you’re to go straight to her majesty. What? What’s so funny?”
“Her majesty!” Garrett snorted. “You don’t have to have a pike up your bum with me, you know. I was screwing her long before you were, and she’s no queen.”
Mikah reddened, but said with all the dignity of his twenty-eight years, “She wants to see you as soon as you land. There, I’ve passed on the message and now you can do what you want, as usual.” After a hesitation, he added, “Look, I’ve no quarrel with you, Garrett. You were always good to me when I was younger, and I’m grateful for that, and besides, you’ve never openly ridiculed me, even though you must have thought… well, I’ve been lucky, let’s say. But I’m guard captain now, whether anyone agrees with it or not, and it’s my job to maintain discipline. That means being respectful to her maj— to Tella, and to Commander Kestimar, too. I have to set the example, however silly it may seem to you.”
“Understood,” Garrett said. “I’ve no quarrel with you, either, and you can screw whoever you want as long as you leave me in peace, and Ruell too. I’ll try not to be too subversive, but I reserve the right to thrash you soundly on the training court at regular intervals.”
Mikah laughed. “I wouldn’t expect any less. Do you know, there are one or two that think it’s polite to let me win? Or maybe they just want to keep on my right side, I don’t know, but I hate that kind of underhanded flattery. At least if I score a point with you, I know I’ve earned it. Go on, then. She’ll be waiting for you.”
Garrett had never worried too much about keeping Tella waiting. His main concern was to hear the full story direct from Ruell, without anyone else interpreting it. So when he reached Tella’s apartments, he asked the door guards where she was.
“Her majesty’s in the throne room.”
He tried not to laugh. “And Ruell?”
“Inside somewhere.” Said with an insolent sneer and a flick of his thumb towards the door of Tella’s apartment. “Her majesty’s waiting for you, Garrett.”
“Understood.”
They exchanged glances, knowing that they’d probably take the brunt of Tella’s displeasure when Garrett was late or didn’t bother to show up at all, but none of them dared to stand up to him. He had a certain reputation, carefully cultivated, and he also had Tella’s favour, although opinions differed as to why. Unless Tella ordered them directly, they were not likely to push their luck by crossing him.
Garrett found Ruell in the sitting room with his dragons’ eggs, holding one in his hands and talking to it. He looked round when Garrett came in, his expression a curious mixture of triumph and guilt.
“They’ve told you all about it, I suppose,” he said, coming towards Garrett with the egg still cradled in his hands. “Everyone’s talking about it.”
“I’ve heard something, not sure how accurate it is. Are you hurt? That’s a nasty scratch on your face.”
“It’s nothing. I did it, Garrett! I called a dragon. Are you pleased?”
“I’m certainly pleased you’re in one piece. Tell me what happened.”
So, half eager and half abashed, he told his tale and Garrett listened, asking nothing until Ruell had finished. It was a strange tale, that much was certain. Had he called the dragon? It was hard to be sure. He had been thinking of it, ofthis dragon in particular, and then he had connected with it, somehow, but had the initial contact come from Ruell or the dragon? Impossible to tell, but Garrett didn’t voice his doubts.
“You see?” Ruell said. “That makes me a dragon caller, doesn’t it? What else can it mean?”
Garrett frowned. “Who knows what it means, Ruell? I don’t understand any of this. It’s a complete mystery to me. There haven’t been dragon callers for who knows how many generations, so how are we expected to cope with this?
What doyou think?”
Ruell deflated like a puffer frog. “I don’t know what to think,” he said miserably, hanging his head. “It felt as if I called her into my mind, but when I fell… she just came. I didn’t call her then, and honestly it didn’t even occur to me to ask her to rescue me until she turned up.”
“Hmmm.” Garrett pondered that. “I don’t like this. Summoning real dragons to the island seems like a foolhardy thing to do, to me.”
“There was something in one of my books about transitioning,” Ruell said. “Some things can only be attempted by‘fully transitioned dragon callers’. It seems to me that I am in the process of transitioning, wouldn’t you say? The dreams first, and then the waking connection, and now I can initiate the contact. I just need to practise a bit more. Don’t you agree? That’s what Kestimar thinks, anyway.”
Garrett’s instinctive reaction was to argue against anything that Kestimar suggested, as a matter of principle. With business matters, perhaps his instincts were sound, but with Ruell, Garrett didn’t trust him to have the boy’s interests at heart. As for dragon lore, Kestimar knew nothing of it, so his advice was worthless in that respect.
“What do you want to do?” he said in the end.
“I want to try,” Ruell said, and there was no denying the fire in his eyes as he spoke. “The Gods know, I’ve never had much talent in any other direction, so I’d really like to see if I’m a dragon caller.”
“It’s risky.”
“Everything’s risky!” he burst out. “Even a summer evening’s walk on the clifftops is risky. Every time the ship crosses the strait, it’s risky.Life is risky, Garrett! I’m not afraid of taking a chance, and if I fail… so be it. Sorry, little one,” he said, lifting the egg he still held a little higher. “Hush, now, calm down. She’s agitated because she thinks I’m upset. She was so excited earlier – one of her kin was here.”
The Dragon Caller (Brightmoon Book 9) Page 11
