by Robert Beers
The Corporal nodded his head, “What about this milord? I recognize this man. He's the one who fought Gros a couple of weeks ago. Cost me a few silvers as well.”
“You should've bet on the underdog Corporal,” Ethan spoke up, “As for my rank, you know that information always takes its time filtering down to the enlisted. If you want to question the Lieutenant's word and honor, my sword will gladly answer for him.”
Even in the moonlight Adam could see the Corporal's coloring blanch. He remembered that day he and Ethan fenced in the woods South of Silgert. Apparently the man's ability with a sword had made its way through the ranks along with the tale of the fight with Gros. He'd heard about the fight. From the stories, this Gros stood well over seven foot and massed out at about the same weight as a prize steer. Even allowing for the exaggeration of rumor it must have been something to see.
He crossed his arms and stared levelly at the noncom, “Well, Corporal?”
The Corporal swallowed again. This time the lump didn't seem to want to go down.
Ethan wasn't in a mood to help the man. This Corporal was one of those who offered helpful suggestions while he and the other conscripts were washed down like cattle, “The Lieutenant asked you a question, Corporal.”
The other two sentries took a step backward. They weren't in a mood to be helpful either.
“Uh, Milord Lieutenant, if I've given offence I didn't mean any. Like the Sergeant says, it takes a while for news to make its way down to us. We'll be leaving you to your business, if that's all right with you,” Another hand on chest salute followed the Corporal's apology.
“The Lieutenant and I see no reason to continue this beyond this moment Corporal. Go about your duties and I'll forget to mention your misspeak in my report,” Ethan dismissed the trio with a curt nod.
“Of course, Sergeant, thank you. Lieutenant,” The Corporal saluted along with the two privates, turned about and marched off at a quick step.
Ethan watched the sentries hurry away as he spoke to Adam, “Thank you for the promotion, I think. Now if you don't mind I'll be getting back to my family.”
“I'm sorry Ethan, but I can't let you do that, not right now at least.”
“I'm sorry too,” Ethan's tone was flat, “Because I'm going whether or not you let me. I don't think you're the type to cut down an unarmed man Adam, and you'll have to kill me to stop me.”
“Damn it all Ethan!” Adam slammed his hand against his thigh, “What is so flicking important that you have to take off right now and turn yourself into a hunted criminal in the process? If you give me a little time I could probably have you headed home as a part of your duty. Bardoc's beard! Think a little.”
Ethan shrugged, “I have thought about it. Do you believe in dreams?”
Adam blinked, the rapid change of subject threw him for a second, “What do dreams have to do with you deserting?”
“I had a dream tonight and it woke me up, but it was more than a dream. I know it as well as I know you're standing in front of me with your hand on your sword.”
Adam allowed his hand to slide off the sword's pommel and hooked his thumb into his belt.
Ethan's mouth twitched and he continued, “My family came to me with children already as part of it; Circumstance, Jonas and Sari. Circumstance is the oldest and he's partly the reason I'm here now. Jonas is next oldest and Sari's the baby. My dream was about Jonas and I'm convinced he'll die if I don't get there to save him.”
Adam stood there and thought. Part of his musings revolved around his sister Charity and what he would do if his situation mirrored Ethan's. But then his sense of duty walked in and stomped all over his empathy. He shook his head in an attempt to clear away the argument, there had to be a way to reconcile the two.
Ethan shifted from foot to foot while Adam pondered his problem until he thought he'd waited long enough for an answer, “If that's all you're going to say boy, then I'll be going.”
“No, wait,” Adam reached out and took Ethan by his sleeve, “I think there's a way we can work this out that will solve both our problems.”
“What is it?”
Adam hesitated for a brief second and then threw himself in headfirst, “You mentioned that fencing match we had a couple years ago?”
“Yes...” Ethan let the word out slowly.
“I remember what you called my sister and me after that, ‘Naturals, a couple of flicking naturals,’ Those were your words, I think,” Adam raised an eyebrow.
“Sounds like me.” Ethan agreed.
Adam lowered his eyebrow and frowned slightly, “You were wrong, a bit, Charity and I weren't naturals. We had help, a lot of it.”
In spite of himself Ethan was intrigued, “What kind of help?”
“Do you believe in magik?” Adam asked the question.
Ethan combined a nod with a half shrug, “I've seen some. Enough to know I'd be a fool to not believe in it.” His thoughts went back to that time when Circumstance started a fire with the wave of his hand. “Why do you ask, are you trying to tell me your help was magik?”
“That's part of it,” Adam's smile was rueful, “The other part is me, I'm magik. I mean, I can do magik, like a Wizard. Before we met you, a Wizard took in my sister and me, his name was Milward.”
Adam noticed the widening of Ethan's eyes, “You know him.”
“I know the name,” Ethan mused, “I'd always wondered at the stories and whether or not he was something more than a legend. What does this have to do with me? Are you saying you can get me to Jonas with no one knowing?”
“That's called a traveling and just about everyone would know, it makes a LOT of noise, I know, Milward dropped out of one right on top of me once. But it wouldn't do any good. I don't know how to do one, at least not well enough to where it'd be safe to try,” Adam frowned, remembering when Milward stopped him from inadvertently destroying the old Wizard's living room trying to mimic a shaping he'd seen Milward perform.
Ethan threw out his hands, “Then what can you do for me? What good is this magik of yours if Jonas still dies?”
“Before I answer Ethan I need your solemn promise to keep this quiet. The others can't know about me. If they find out what I can do ... well, you can guess the implications,” Adam grimaced.
Ethan nodded, “I've seen things like that. You'd have to create a cult of fear just to have a moment's peace and I don't see you as someone who could do that. No, Adam, you needn't worry about my tongue. I can hold it.”
“Good.” Adam smiled. “I'm glad to hear it. One thing I can do now is show you Jonas. You'll be able to see how he really is right now. You'll know if what you had was just a dream or something more.”
“How will you do that? What do you need to do it? Can you do it now, right now?” Ethan nearly stumbled over his own tongue in getting the words out.
Adam turned to hide his amusement at Ethan's eagerness while at the same time looking for the location of the closest watering trough. He found one sitting to the left of the guard hut and began walking toward it. Ethan followed him.
When he reached the trough Adam started his shaping, feeling the familiar pressure build in the back of his head. “Don't touch the water, you won't spoil the shaping but if the water isn't still it'll be difficult to make out what's being shown. A mirror would be better but there aren't any close by.”
Ethan bent and peered into the trough. He saw himself looking back with a field of stars behind. “When will I know it's working?”
Adam held back a chuckle, “You'll know.”
He released the shaping into the water and Ethan gasped, “Gods, there's Berggren. That's Shilling Street. It looks the same as the day I left to chase down Circumstance. It's like I'm floating over the city and gliding into home. Ellona! There's Ellona. Oh Bardoc, I'd nearly forgotten how beautiful she is. She's crying. Adam, she's crying. Is Jonas gone already? No, he's in bed, but he's not moving. Gods, Jonas! I'm too late. Wait! I saw his chest move. There it is again. He's
only sleeping. I'm pulling back. Why am I pulling back? Is the spell over? There's Sammel and Nicoll. Good, at least Ellona has someone to help her. It's fading. It's gone.”
Ethan stayed bent over the trough for a long, long moment. When he straightened Adam could see the glisten of tears running down the cheek facing him. He didn't need a truth shaping to know Ethan had been honest about how he felt about his family. “I ... I want to thank you for this Adam. I hadn't realized just how much I missed them. It seems this old soldier and tramp really has settled down, whether or not he meant to.”
“What about Jonas?” Adam pressed the point gently.
“Jonas is in good hands,” Ethan sighed, “and turning his father into an outlaw won't do him any good. I suppose you've got yourself a Sergeant for a while, that is, if I really am one.”
Adam clapped Ethan on the shoulder, “I wouldn't have it any other way.”
* * * *
McCabe pulled his foot from the mud. It came away with a sucking popping sound and left the smell of dead things hanging in the air. Three weeks of slogging bare-bottomed through the mire of Haberstroh's swamp had finally brought him to its end, a slowly rising series of green hummocks that eventually coalesced into a vast steppe. On the maps it was called the Forever Grass but in reality it contained much more than grass and sod. Twisted bushes grew sporadically as a sort of discouraged scrub. The nomads who lived on the steppe named them piss plants due to the odor they gave off when wet or used for fire.
During his trek through the swamp McCabe had come to find he still needed no sleep just as he discovered while staying in that nice Duke's lovely dungeon. A small life drained here and there was all that was necessary to keep his vitality at a comfortable level. But as he drew further and further away from the swamp those small lives diminished in number until he found it necessary to pull life from the very ground beneath him to keep going. Patches of a fine gray dust that followed him in a widely staggered line showed where this had been done. In those patches nothing would ever grow again.
On the fourth day since leaving the swamp McCabe looked up to see a misty white peak jutting above the horizon. It sat just to the left in his line of sight. An icy breeze swept in from that direction causing goose bumps to rise on his naked skin. Any other man would have considered the wind to be painfully cold even if bundled against it. The ex-thief found it to be delicious and laughed as he spread his arms to embrace its frigid blast. The voices told him about the size of the peak and where in its caverns he would find the one he sought. He figured the journey would take another several weeks by foot, but what did he care. He had all the time in the world.
* * * *
The pigeon had no warning and only enough breath for a brief squawk before the Falcon's strike broke its neck. A few feathers from the initial impact fluttered to the ground. If one had been able to follow their path the watcher would have seen a winged form glide on a rising thermal toward the immense caldera below and then, upon reaching its inner edge, stoop and dive into the interior.
Drinaugh opened his wings mere yards from the ground and landed onto the soft grass of Dragonglade at a full run.
The young Dragon, in his haste, did not watch the ground in front of him and nearly ran into Timidi, the mother of his friend Shealauch.
“Open your eyes Drinaugh,” she said; with a laugh in her voice, “you will have a better chance of finding where you need to go.”
Her laughter faded as she noticed the expression on the young Dragon's face. “What happened?” She craned her neck to look him over front and back. “You haven't been shot by the humans as well have you?”
Drinaugh stuttered for a bit before he was able to get out the words, “N ... n ... no honored Timidi. I am not sh ... sh ... shot. Bu ... but I'm afraid my friend Adam will be.”
“Adam?” Timidi's eyes widened. “Adam? I know of no Dragon with that name. Who or what are you talking about Drinaugh?”
“He came with the old human Wizard Milward nearly two years ago. He was the one who ate with me, taught me about what humans use for humor, and he traded namesign with me. He became my friend. I don't want to lose him.” The young Dragon's voice strengthened as he spoke.
“Why would you lose him?” This voice was that of a mature male Dragon and it came from behind Drinaugh.
He turned his head and looked up, and up, Chabaad stood nearly as tall as the Winglord, Mashglach. The fully-grown Dragon peered at Drinaugh with interest, his nostrils twitching.
“Honorable Chabaad, forgive me. I had no idea you were standing behind me.” Drinaugh dipped his head in salute.
Chabaad sniffed, “How could you? I came up quietly while you were speaking with Timidi. You speak as though your human friend is in danger. Why?”
“Because he is in danger!” Drinaugh's statement came out partially as a shout. He gulped and then dropped his eyes. “Apologies honorable Chabaad, I meant no disrespect.”
The male Dragon's eyes twinkled. “If you keep apologizing to me every other sentence Drinaugh, my hide will be as pale as Oshglach's before you're done. Just answer my question and save the etiquette for later. Why do you say the human you befriended is in danger?”
Timidi patted the young Dragon's head. “Take your time child. We will listen.”
“Um ... ok. I was flying out over the plains when I caught one of those high fast winds.”
“A Worldstream,” Chabaad murmured. “You were being a little foolish youngster. Some Dragons have lost their wings playing with those.” Worldstream winds flowed high in the atmosphere where only Dragons could still breathe. Their high speeds sometimes proved irresistible to an adolescent who could, with a little agility and a lot of luck, catch the ride of their lives. If the luck wasn't there, the hapless rider could be crippled by the vortices that frequented the Worldstream.
“Let the child speak Chabaad,” Timidi chided, “or he'll never finish what he has to say.”
Drinaugh looked at the large female with appreciation and continued, “I got a good ride. It took me out over the solitary mountain that sits between the human city and us on the straights. There were a lot of humans on the plains below so I dropped out of the Worldstream to take a closer look. They were fighting!”
“So?” Chabaad's smile held a touch of saddness. “Isn't that what the younger races do? Even wolves battle among themselves on occasion. Humans do it more often. Why I can remember several times in just the past few centuries where hoards of them have gathered together to cut each other apart. I wouldn't worry too much about your friend, Drinaugh. He may be enjoying himself. Besides,” Chabaad fixed the younger Dragon with a solemn eye, “you'll have thousands of years where he won't be with you. You are a Dragon after all and he is merely human.”
“But he's not,” Drinaugh countered, “He's a Wizard.”
“What?” Chabaad turned to look at Timidi. Other Dragons were coming see what the discussion was about. If there was one thing that could pull a Dragon away from his or her studies it was a good tongue flapping.
Timidi smiled at Chabaad. “Niamh knew the day she smelled the Emperor's amulet on the human child's chest. The Winglord confirmed the Wizard Milward's tale. You preferred to stay with your studies and missed that bit of information.”
Chabaad began pacing just as the first of the other Dragons arrived. “But if he bore the Human Emperor's amulet that would mean Drinaugh's assertion the child is a Wizard is true and if that is true then...”
“Then that would mean the human child is one of the two in the prophecy,” Harlig spoke as he came up behind two younger Dragons nearly grown but still showing a few of the signs of youth. “That would also mean he has a part to play in what happens to Dragonkind.”
“A claim yet to be proven,” Chabaad said quietly. Some of the other Dragons murmured agreement.
“Oh hide spots, Chabaad! Are we going to have to cover that tired ground yet again?” Timidi crossed her arms before her chest. “Or do you consider the Wing
lord a fool?”
Niamh, who had trailed the others because of her developing pregnancy nodded in agreement with Timidi's sentiment.
Chabaad would not look Timidi in the eye. “Not a fool,” He said quietly, “Merely one who refuses to consider the facts as they should be.”
“I've considered the facts for over a millennia, Chabaad and I've yet to find one that convinces me my opinion needed changing. You're allowing your prejudices to show, old friend, a human trait, more than a Dragon one.” Mashglach allowed a touch of wry dryness to creep into his voice. “Now what is all of this about, or are we convening Winglauchs in the park these days?”
Chabaad pointed at Drinaugh. “Ask the child.”
The Dragons around him stepped back effectively placing him in the center of a ring. He suddenly felt very small and very alone. The Winglord himself was looking at him! Drinaugh opened his mouth to speak and croaked out a word from a throat suddenly gone very, very dry.
“You have a tale Drinaugh?” Mashglach leaned forward, bringing his face closer to the young Dragon's.
Drinaugh tried again, coughing to clear his throat. “Um hmm. As I told honored Timidi and Chabaad, Winglord, I flew over a large number of humans fighting each other in the plain just west of the City they call Grisham. My friend Adam is in that city and I'm afraid he may be in danger because of this.”
“The human city Grisham is over two thousand leagues east of Dragonglade Drinaugh. How is it you were flying there when you were in the eating place this morning?”
Drinaugh gulped and remained silent. Timidi and Chabaad hid smiles.
“Well Drinaugh? Are you going to answer my question or just stand there and play the mute?” Mashglach grunted.
“I was riding a Worldstream.”
“What?” The Winglord exclaimed. A murmur circulated throughout the other Dragons.
“So the child rode a Worldstream, Winglord. Don't act as if none of us have ever done so when we were young.” Harlig stepped into the circle to stand next to Drinaugh. “The important part of this is the prophecy. Whether some of us like the admission or not, Dragonkind is still part of this world. I for one do not want to face the creator knowing I did nothing to prevent my savior's demise.”
