The Dragon Caller (Brightmoon Book 9)

by Pauline M. Ross

The tracker was untouched. He crouched on the ground, arms wrapped round his head, yowling like a cat, but none of the dragons had so much as scratched him.

  “You may go now,” Ruell said to him. “If I see you again, you will not escape my vengeance.”

  The tracker nodded, and, rising to his feet, bowed low to Ruell before scampering back towards the road.

  Cautiously, Garrett rose to his feet. “Everyone all right? Elestra?”

  Her face, rather muddy, emerged from behind the bush. “Absolutely fine. What a show! That was amazing, Ruell.”

  One by one, the dragons landed around them, or perched in the trees, crooning almost in harmony. Their eyes whirled happily and one that Garrett recognised – Yannali, was it? – sat at Ruell’s feet, his head resting on Ruell’s arm. They were noticeably larger than the last time Garrett had seen them, and there were more of them, too, fifteen at least. He eyed them warily.

  “I don’t suppose they could move a little further off, could they? They’re a bit… intimidating, so many of them at once.”

  The dragons all took off in a great churning of air, so that Garrett was surrounded by leaves and bits of twig again, although this time the whirlwind was entirely natural. After circling the clearing once, the dragons disappeared to the south and the debris settled in a rattling rain before silence fell.

  “Well, that was… interesting,” he said, sheathing his sword with one swift movement. “Ruell, I’d better have a look at that fellow who got thrown. Do you think you could track down our horses? Or any horses, come to that. Can your friends help with that?”

  “They have excellent eyesight,” Ruell said, gravely. “I’m sure they’ll be able to spot them.”

  “Thank you.”

  Leaving Ruell motionless in the clearing, presumably in communication with his dragons, Garrett strode through the forest to the fallen Tre’annatha. The man lay motionless, his face white under the moon’s clear light, but a quick check revealed that he was still alive, although with one or two broken bones.

  Garrett reached into his waist bag for his glass ball and then hesitated. Elestra had followed him, and was squatting on the other side of the Tre’annatha, watching with the greatest interest. Did he want to reveal his secret to her? He’d taken such pains to keep the secret of his magic ball, and it grieved him to show it now, when he still wasn’t entirely sure of Elestra. And yet, the alternative was to leave the Tre’annatha to awaken to pain and a leg so badly broken that, without help, he would undoubtedly die here. For an instant he toyed with the possibility of merely alerting the inn to the man’s plight. That would be enough compassion to waste on such a man, surely?

  And yet he couldn’t do it. If Elestra hadn’t been there, he wouldn’t have hesitated.

  “Elestra,” he said hesitantly, “what I’m going to do is very secret. You mustn’t tell anyone about it, all right?”

  “Of course,” she said, eyes wide.

  He brought the ball out of its pouch and cupped it in one hand. “Ball, heal this man.” The ball glowed with a brilliant light, illuminating the Tre’annatha’s face and filling it with warmth. Gradually, it faded. The man gasped, as if he’d forgotten to breathe and had just that moment remembered that he ought to. Then his eyes opened, and narrowed at the sight of Garrett leaning over him.

  “Better now?” Garrett said genially.

  For answer, the man spat at him.

  “Where are your manners?” Elestra said. “Garrett’s just saved your life, little man, so show some gratitude. If it had been me, I’d have run you through with this.” The dagger was still in her hand, and now she waved it under the man’s nose. “At least then there’d be one less of you vermin in the world.” She smiled chillingly. “Maybe I should anyway. You’re scum, you people, and the world would be better off without you.”

  He sat up abruptly, and released a great stream of unintelligible words. Elestra understood, though, because she laughed and talked back to him in the same sing-song language. They went back and forth several times, and although Garrett had no idea what they were saying, he recognised the horror on the man’s face, and the gloating triumph on Elestra’s. The Tre’annatha jumped up, and then, with a final burst of words, he turned and ran towards the road.

  “Ungrateful imbecile,” Garrett said without rancour. “What did you say to him?”

  “Nothingveryoffensive. He was shocked to the core to hear the secret words spoken by a half-breed, though. No one’s supposed to know their language, other than their own people. I used the version for equals, too, and thatreallyriled him. And Ruell, too! Where did he learn an insult like that? From the dragons, maybe. They have no love for the Tre’annatha, historically. Two of us yelling at them in their own secret language! Ha!” She chuckled, and Garrett laughed too, although he couldn’t say why. Perhaps it was just her infectious good humour drawing him in. “I likeyour little secret,” she went on. “What a clever little device! It must be so useful. What else can it do?”

  “Quite a lot,” he said. “It boosted your strength when you were opposed by those wind-blowers on the ship. It protects me from injury, even from dragon fire, I discovered recently. It shows me things at a distance. It knows if someone lies. To be honest, I don’t even know everything it can do. There’s powerful magic in it, that’s for sure.”

  “Can anyone use it? Or is it just you?”

  “It’s attuned to me now, but it wasn’t always mine. Why so many questions?”

  “Just curious. Never seen anything like it before.”

  “There are hundreds of them, maybe thousands, although the Tre’annatha control most of them. And plenty more still locked away in mage towers, but no one knows how to get into them, so there they stay.”

  “I’ll bet the ball could get in.” She grinned. “Maybe we should try to find a mage tower. I’d love my own magic ball. Oh, there’s the horses back.”

  Ruell had managed to find two horses, one of their own and one of the Tre’annatha’s. “That will do, won’t it? We don’t need to catch the others, surely? They’ve gone a long way away already.”

  “No, two will be enough. The others will be a prize for anyone who catches them, and at least we unsaddled them and unloaded our gear. Whereas this fine fellow,” he said, indicating the Tre’annatha horse, “not only still has his saddle, but is fully laden with saddle bags and bedroll. Who knows what treasures we might discover? A flask of wine, perhaps? Or some decent road bread.”

  “It must be getting towards dawn,” Ruell said. “Can we get some sleep now?”

  “Yes, definitely,” Garrett said. “But not here. I’m sick of hard ground and damp clothes and cold food that lost all flavour days ago. We’re going down to the inn to sleep in a decent bed, for once, and in the morning we’ll have a hot meal and the world will be a much better place. I might even have forgiven Mikah for sleeping through all the action, when he might actually have been useful for once.”

  “The inn? Are you sure?” Ruell said. “You had very good reason for hiding away in the woods.”

  “Which were based on hiding away from the Tre’annatha. That seems a pretty pointless exercise now, doesn’t it? They know exactly where we are. Besides, you appear to have mustered rather an effective defensive force.”

  Ruell hung his head. “Sorry. They just wouldn’t go away. All I could do was keep them out of sight. But they were useful in the end, weren’t they?” he added, enthusiasm lighting his face.

  “Useful?” Garrett said. “They were magnificent, as were you.”

  “Then you won’t make me send them away?”

  “I don’t think I could. But that’s a problem for tomorrow… one of many such. For now, let’s get to the inn, get some proper sleep and some decent food. As for tomorrow, we’ll worry about that tomorrow.”

  25: A Night At An Inn (Ruell)

  Ruell said nothing as they walked down the road to the inn, leading the two horses. Elestra chattered away merrily, and Garrett took his
share in the conversation, but Ruell was silent. There was no silence in his head, though, for the dragons bounced their thoughts around, filling him with their delight in the successful fight, and their adulation of their great leader. That was how they described him, as‘our great leader’. And although he demurred and tried to keep his feet on the ground, it was hard not to be proud of himself and all that he’d done.

  He’dcalled them, called his dragons when he’d needed them, and they’d come and done his bidding, and he’d directed all of them, keeping them away from Garrett and Elestra and the poor, terrified tracker, and ensuring they only attacked the Tre’annatha. Ensured, too, that no one got hurt. Well, except the one who’d been thrown from his horse, but that couldn’t be helped and Garrett had healed him, so it was all right. Everything was all right. He was a dragon caller and the world was a glorious place.

  The inn was in that drifting half-asleep state that the tail end of brightmoon brought with it, not quite daytime liveliness but not tight-closed night, either. A few days ago, the roads had been filled with wagons taking advantage of the extra hours of light at brightmoon. In a day or two more, the night wagons would disappear, and the inn would sink thankfully back into darkmoon somnolence, open during daylight hours but shut up at night. Tonight, they were lucky. Yawning stable hands took the horses away, and there was ale and hot stew in the wagoners’ room.

  They all ate and drank, even Elestra, even though she’d eaten well the evening before. “Never miss an opportunity for food,” she said cheerfully. “I’m always hungry.”

  “That means you’ve got worms,” Ruell said, grinning. “Or so Mother always said…”

  He stopped, the grief that washed over him taking him by surprise. So much had happened since the dragons had come with their rage-filled fire that it was hard to remember it was only a few days ago. He’d had no time to mourn his mother or Kestimar or the many friends who had died. No time to mourn his old way of life. His baby dragons had filled some of that void, but not all, by no means all. And, as always when he recalled that magical moment of their hatching, he remembered the other egg that had also hatched, the child that Garrett had killed as carelessly as he might dispose of a rat.

  Elestra must have read his face, for she slid a hand across the table to grasp his grubby fingers. “I’m sorry, Ruell. I know what it’s like to lose your mother, and not be able to burn her or bury her, or whatever your custom is.”

  “We give the dead to the sea,” Ruell said quietly. “The body is weighted with stones and dropped into the water far from land. But there was nothing left of her after the dragons had gone, nothing but ash.”

  “At least you know what happened to her,” Garrett said. “And it was very quick. She didn’t feel any pain, and she died beautiful, as she’d wished.”

  Ruell nodded, sorrow thickening his throat and making it hard to speak. He finished his stew in silence, and when Elestra had gone to her room, Garrett and Ruell manhandled all their gear down the corridor to their own room.

  “You don’t mind sharing?” Garrett said. “It attracts less attention that way.”

  “No, of course not. I feel safer having you close by. Gods, I’m tired! I shall sleep like a baby.”

  “Soon,” Garrett said. “There’s one thing we have to do first. That tracker found you because of the mark on you – a tattoo, in green ink, put there by Famri’s subordinates when they had you unconscious. At least we know now why she had you knocked out, why you were kept unconscious for hours, and why your undertrousers were on back to front.”

  “But I’ve looked and couldn’t find anything,” Ruell protested. “You’ve seen me naked in the bath – a lot of people have seen me naked in the bath – and no one’s spotted a tattoo.”

  “Then it must be well hidden, but it’s there somewhere, and we have to find it and get rid of it. Will you allow me to look?”

  “Of course. Oh…” He blushed. “You want to poke around in all the crevices, don’t you?”

  Garrett smiled ruefully. “It’s very well hidden, so yes, I’m afraid I’ll have to.”

  “Maybe the ball could find it?”

  Was that relief on Garrett’s face? “Oh – good idea. I never think of using it in creative ways like that. It might not work but still it’s—”

  “—worth a try,” Ruell said quickly, to hide his embarrassment.

  “Whip your clothes off then, and let’s try it.”

  He stripped quickly, oddly self-conscious. He and Garrett had seen each other naked a thousand times over the years, but it had always been a comfortable thing, with not the slightest shame. But then neither of them had really looked at the other. It was just two people at ease in each other’s company, but happening to have no clothes on. This felt different.

  “Turn over onto your front,” Garrett said. “If it’s hard to find, it’ll most likely be at the back somewhere.”

  His matter-of-fact tone went some way to reassuring Ruell.

  “Well, I don’t see anything obvious. I’ll try the ball.” Ruell heard him rummaging in his bag. “Ball, show me where Ruell’s green tattoo is. Oh! That is well-hidden.”

  “I don’t feel anything. Is it working?”

  “Yes. It’s right between your legs. It must be small, too, or you’d have noticed it. Ball, remove Ruell’s green tattoo.”

  This time there was a definite warmth spreading from his inner thigh, very high up, right down his legs and through his male parts. “Ooh, that tickles!” He couldn’t help laughing, and then Garrett was laughing too.

  “There, all done. Put your shirt back on. When you get a chance, check with a mirror to make sure it’s gone, but I’m pretty sure they won’t be able to track you again. Not that it helps them much, when you have your own private winged army.”

  Ruell paused, shirt raised. “You’re truly not angry?”

  Garrett shook his head, and his smile was full of affection. “I should have trusted you over the dragons. You’ve trusted me in a thousand ways, and I never bothered to repay the compliment. Well, this is the time for it, and you may take this as an apology, if you will, Ruell. From now on, I leave the management of dragons to you, since you seem to have got the hang of it pretty well. Now go to sleep.”

  “You’ll wake me well before it’s time to leave? I don’t want to miss the morning meal.”

  “Oh, got worms, have you? Don’t worry, you won’t starve. I’ll wake you.”

  ~~~~~

  Ruell dreamt of dragons. They were very protective of him when he was asleep, crooning gently and flying in leisurely fashion far above the treetops so that he could see the strip of farmed lands with the brown gashes of roads criss-crossing, and further off the sparkling sea. It was as if they cradled him like a baby, passing him from one dragon mind to another as he slept, although he could see that they flew as a group, close together, wheeling about in a seemingly random way but never getting too far apart. Perhaps it reassured them to stay close, just as it reassured him.

  And there were more of them now. Eighteen so far, he thought, and each day brought one or two more, flying north from the island to join their fellows. He knew their names and the nature of each one, for their personalities varied as much as with humans. And further south, he could detect the rest of the hatchlings, still near the island, and further off, the deeper golden stars of adult dragons. His mind could roam wherever it wanted, now. Even as he lay in his bed at the inn, and was simultaneously in the mind of one or other of the dragonets, he was aware of dragons up and down the western coast, of a couple far out to sea to the west, and to the far south, a dense swarm of dragon minds. Dragon Point, he guessed.

  But while he slept, even though he was aware of all these dragons, he was passive, unable to contact them directly. He drifted, a passenger in one or other dragon mind, content but powerless. And the dragons protected him.

  He woke to grey gloom, rain battering the shutters. The dragonets were over the straits, diving for fish with
some innate skill, or else hovering over the distant hills, looking for sheep or goats. They were big enough now to catch such prey.

  Ruell sat up, stretched, wondered where Garrett was and why he hadn’t come to wake him. He couldn’t tell what the hour was, but it felt late.

  “Yannali? Is the sun high?”

  A ripple of dragon laughter.“What sun?”

  “Silly dragon! If I could see the sun, would it be high in the sky?”

  “Almost as high as it can go.”

  Ruell gave an exclamation of annoyance. He jumped out of bed, scrabbled round for his clothes and began to dress hastily.

  “No need to rush,”Yannali said.“Your fellow humans have not left you behind. Three of them went away on the backs of horses just after sunrise, but the other two are still here. Open your shutters.”

  He laughed, and pushed the shutters outward. Rain blew in at him, and he skipped back from the window. The room darkened as Yannali’s bulk blotted out the sky, then, with claws scratching at the wooden frame of the window, he landed on the sill and poked his head into the room. He was so large that he filled the window.

  “Better come inside before anyone sees you,”Ruell said.“But just on the floor, mind. I don’t want you dripping all over the bed.”

  “Shame,”the dragon said.“It looks comfortable, and we could snuggle together.” But obediently he hopped down onto the floor. Even with wings folded and tail curled around him, the room seemed full.

  “You’re getting a bit big for snuggling.”But he sat down on the floor next to Yannali, one arm round the dragon’s neck, the other scratching his head. The dragon purred with pleasure, eyes half-lidded. “How many of you are there now?”

  “Here? Twenty-one. More are coming, now that we’re needed to defend you.”

  “Will you all come? Because that might be awkward. Most people are quite uncomfortable about having dragons around.”

  Yannali made a wheezing sound, which Ruell interpreted as laughter.“Good!”

  “Not so good for me. I need to be with people, too, Yannali.”