“Good, my quiver is empty.”
Thedarra ran her fingers against his cheek. “Bravest man I know, but you’ll be sitting this one out. You can stay at my cottage while your bones mend. Rainbow pie twice a week.”
Melissa narrowed her eyes. He’s my warrior, you tart. “Shoroko will not rest until I fulfill my pledge to him.”
All eyes and ears came to attention as curiosity replaced fear.
“My lady,” said Skandik. “I am not knowing what words to use. Such an occasion… We never… That is after Shoroko left… Knowing what he planned and how he felt…”
Thedarra stood and planted her hands on her hips. “We never expected to see more than one of you alive again, much less sharing a campfire.”
Melissa raised her right claw. “We fought, and both nearly died. I promised to visit Shoroko’s sister, perchance to heal her and atone for my madness.”
An admission of guilt from such a lofty personage will astonish the most hardened. While the men tried to regain control of their facial muscles, Thedarra demonstrated a quicker wit. She pointed to Shoroko. “Madness I’ll grant you. But if you couldn’t heal him, why should we believe you can heal a girl about to die?”
The men leaned back, and more than one made surreptitious gestures to Thedarra to douse her fiery tongue.
“If you were an olissair,” said Melissa, “I would not want to face you in combat.”
Shoroko laughed so hard he nearly passed out from pain. “Once already has White Talon healed me of mortal wounds. She is depleted.”
“Depleted are you?” Skandik shook his head at Thedarra. “Stop making eyes at Shoroko, girl. We’ve got fire, so you’ve got cooking to do!”
Melissa liked the sound of that twice over.
“Callyglip!” Thedarra grabbed the youngest by the collar and yanked. “Get my pots set up, doublenipper.”
“Hey, you almost ripped my…” said the lanky youth.
“Cooks eat double share,” she whispered.
He slapped her seat playfully, which made her grit her teeth. “I meant food, idiot.”
Callyglip frowned and walked ahead, while Thedarra grinned slyly.
Melissa snorted. That one is kerosene tossed on a fire.
The sound of chopping and peeling gave way to the aroma of fish stew (to honor their meat-foregoing guest). The clouds parted, bowls were passed around, and everyone looked to Melissa.
They’re waiting for me to say a blessing. O God of Improvisation, hear my prayer! She rose on her hind legs and faced the sun. “O you who made rock, soil, sun and rain, who provide our food and steer us on our path through the stars, we thank you and bless you, and ask you to bless the hands that prepared our supper.” Good, no weird looks. She lifted the bowl to her mouth, tried not to splatter everyone in her vicinity and mostly succeeded. It was good. Curse her. With her culinary skills, she’ll have a huge advantage with the men. Melissa stole a glance at Shoroko and tried to guess what put the smile on his face – the food he was eating, or the wench ladling it out for him, one slurp at a time.
Supper talk ranged from how much rain would fall, to wagers on which fence the stampede would breach first, to who would drop the biggest game. One farmer asked Skandik, “Did you pack your skoffle board? I’m hot to win back what you made off with last week.”
“No games tonight.” Skandik spit on the ground. “Wife hid it on me. Out late too many nights for her.”
As soon as the meal ended, Thedarra stood, cocked her head and crossed her arms. “Has my Lady’s appetite been satisfied?”
Shoroko winced, not for pain, but because her words were as subtle as the mischief in her eyes. “Darra, to work her art, White Talon requires liosh.”
Thedarra slapped Callyglip’s shoulder with the back of her hand. “Cally, roll out a barrel.”
The lad wrestled a barrel off the wagon and wobbled up the path.
As the sloshing grew louder, Shoroko sat up, straightened his back and looked Melissa in the eye. She nodded. He addressed Skandik. “Danger is involved.”
Thedarra shook her head and smirked.
Skandik chewed his lip. “What danger?”
“Twice I have drunk tainted liosh,” said Melissa. “It is that which inflames my mind with madness. It caused me to wound first Shorassa, then Shoroko.”
Skandik squinted and held up three fingers. “Lord Soorararas himself sampled the tank this was drawn from not three days ago.”
“Until I understand how and why liosh from two widely separated sources became corrupted, I will not trust any source. If I drink, I cannot guarantee your safety.”
Shoroko coughed. “She incinerated ten fandrels of forest during one fit. Only her obsession with fish spared me.”
Nobody laughed. While the men stared at Melissa, Thedarra rummaged through the wagon. She returned with two coils of rope looped over each arm and tossed them at Melissa’s feet, stepped back and put her left hand on her hip.
Oil without rope and I’ll kill them all, even Shoroko. Fight without oil and lose all hope of healing and peace. Flee and lose my only ally. Submit to the rope and be at the mercy of that witch. Melissa bowed her head. “Bind me.”
They circled, passing rope over and under the towering olissair and around two trees. They circled, and never took their eyes off her. Thedarra tapped the keg, filled a crock pot with liosh and dragged it before the bound giantess.
Melissa sniffed the pot. Smells good. She locked eyes with Thedarra. “Who gets the honor of ladling my beverage?”
The woman swaggered over to her tray of utensils and returned. “To your health, wise hlissak.” She ladled a spoonful and held it to Melissa’s snout.
The men breathed in unison, sucking in damp air before she took each sip, and exhaling when the eyes of the olissair remained lucid. Thedarra continued, unhurried and unfazed, until the pot was drunk. She set the spoon down and stood facing Melissa, not two arm lengths away.
She’s daring me! What has she been drinking? Melissa savored the last mouthful of liosh. Was that a slightly salty taste? The black goo overpowered her palate. The waiting continued. Inside, an energy threaded its way through her blood vessels until her leg muscles tensed and her tail began to twitch. The rope creaked. The trees began to complain. The sweat that the rain hadn’t fully washed from the repair crew assaulted Melissa’s nostrils. Their odor was fear. But not Thedarra’s. Her sweat reeked of mockery.
“How are you feeling?” Shoroko’s voice sounded far away.
“Yes, how are you feeling?” Thedarra’s inflection was like a Shakespearean taunt to a king who just swallowed nightshade. The woman’s face began to flow like the runoff cascading from the cliff overhang beside her. Whispered disdain reworked itself into sneering, toothy, vampirous cackling.
The olissair strained against her bounds, but feebly. Let her think I can control it. Let her think I am contained. “One more sip should be enough.”
Thedarra tilted the pot and scraped the bottom with the ladle. Then she leaned forward to offer the dregs.
Melissa opened her gullet wide and thrust her snout forward.
“No!” shouted Shoroko.
Her teeth seized the flesh of the wide-eyed woman – and stopped short of breaking skin. The tangy scab from a cooking mishap teased her tongue. Better than fish! One bite wouldn’t hurt. But friend says no. Why? She darted her eyes back and forth, with Thedarra’s arm in her mouth, like a dog caught with a stolen steak. One farmer had a drawn bow aimed at her eye socket. Another held his axe straight up. She released her prey and hissed. Thedarra grabbed her arm back and ran screaming for the wagon.
In stages, Melissa’s breathing subsided and the farmers lowered their weapons. She turned to Shoroko. While the farmers were apprehensive, he lay there expectant, trustful. Why couldn’t my mother have been like you? Her own daughter a doctor, but no phone call until the cancer was almost through with her. Said she knew it was her time. It’s never time! The olissair opened her mouth and sent a cres
cendo of blue dancing over Shoroko’s flesh. When the flames were gone, so were Shoroko’s wounds and the anger on the men’s faces.
Shoroko stood, walked over and slapped Melissa on the side. “You listened this time. Much better control.”
“I deserve no credit. The taste is there, but diluted. The liosh storage place – when was it last replenished?”
“Yesterday,” said Skandik.
“You mixed good liosh with bad. It’ll get worse.”
Thedarra slunk back from the wagon, giving Melissa a wide berth. Grabbing Shoroko’s arms, she flipped them over, then bent and inspected his legs. At last she bowed to Melissa. She slid a knife from the sheath strapped to her calf and sawed at the first rope.
Fear reared up and whinnied. Thedarra stopped cutting to watch the trail. Twelve riders on striped mounts cantered into view, eleven outfitted as soldiers, plus the farmer who rode off at the first sight of White Talon.
“Excellent! How did you subdue her?” The lead rider dismounted, threw his cloak aside to reveal light mail and marched up to the fire, where he rubbed his hands and grabbed at the leftovers. He had light brown hair on the top, bottom and middle of his face, and by the way he stroked it with his thumb and forefinger, the arrangement pleased him.
Thedarra glared at Skandik, who scratched his head and cleared his throat. “Ecraveo, welcome back from patrol. Things are – that is – though you might have thought – we were about…”
Ecraveo smiled and patted Skandik on the back. “I’ll get the story from Darra as usual.” He reached for Thedarra’s arm but she pulled it away. “Bite marks?” He spun and glared at the men. “Does she have to do everything for you?”
“Shouldn’t you be home tending to your… to Shorassa?” said Thedarra.
He wagged his finger. “My place is hunting down my beloved’s attacker.” Ecraveo spun and pointed at White Talon. “Justice! That is what will make this day sweet again. Justice.” He spotted Shoroko, standing unharmed. “What art is this? I was told you were wounded.”
“White Talon healed me. I am bringing the hlissak to Sho-sho to do the same for her and repay the debt she has acknowledged. Mercy is better than justice.”
The grief his swagger had concealed drove the smile from Ecraveo’s face. He drew a dagger and held it to White Talon’s throat. “But justice is all that is left me. Sho-sho is dead! After I make my appeal to Metookonsen, you’ll join her in Nehenoth.”
Chapter 9: Red Fury
Evening, April 4th, Maricova Gash.
Leaders don’t beg. Melissa watched silently as Shoroko trudged away. Fear left his proud posturing before the mares and trotted after his master. Why couldn’t my spirit have chosen a safer home before transmigrating? Thedarra took one step to follow, but Ecraveo placed a firm hand on her shoulder. At least she won’t be hanging all over Shoroko to console him.
Alone. Bound. If they were criminals, it would be about ransom. Or enslavement. But they want justice, and I’m a murderer. They lock princesses in castles with dragons. I’d take that job, were Thedarra the princess. Melissa recalled the first time she’d felt abandoned. She’d wandered away from her parents at the Chinese New Year’s parade. People crowded the sidewalk, so she couldn’t see the passing floats. She squeezed through a gap and stepped onto the street just as the dragon danced around the corner. She screamed and froze. The handlers carrying the bobbing and weaving creature tripped over her and piled on top. Snap. More screaming, until sirens announced the arrival of salvation. The ambulance crew transported her to a hospital, where doctors gave her lollipops, set her broken arm, and calmed her racing heart. That day she learned doctors save you from dragons, and vowed she’d become a doctor.
Who saves dragon doctors? I argued with the real White Talon today. She’s on another planet. Why couldn’t I mind meld with someone closer? Help!
The men proceeded to untie Melissa from the trees and rope her to four quaggas. Ecraveo offered Thedarra his mount but she refused. Despite superior hearing, Melissa couldn’t hear the words they exchanged. The woman hopped in the wagon for the first five miles, but when they reached a swollen stream, she jumped down and drew water for the thirsty olissair, whose restraints wouldn’t let her bend so low. Silvery fish swam by, out of reach.
After the crossing, Thedarra walked alongside. She whispered, “Don’t say anything. I would set you free, I would. I believe you. You have a gift. Once the herds come, we’ll see fevers, boils, and worms in the water. Shorassa was a fine girl, but hundreds are going to die. Maybe you could save them.”
As Melissa looked at Thedarra, her eyes went blurry and all went hazy blue. The woman appeared double. One of her images drifted to the side and a man appeared behind her, hands on each shoulder. The rising moon pierced the vision. “You lost a husband.” What just happened?
A damp cheek was her answer. “Ecraveo is the First Hand’s nephew. He counts on Metookonsen ruling in his favor. His faith in the ground blinds him to the sky.”
Melissa regarded the thick forest on either side. “Our path takes us west, not north.”
“We’re taking the road through Marbush.”
“Around the open fields. Ecraveo is not so blind. The sky has eyes, but we are hidden.”
“You sound relieved,” said Thedarra. “Were I you, my eyes would hunger for each scrap of blue above, and my lungs would clamor for notice.”
“I’m not the only one who needs rescuing today,” said Melissa. “I could’ve fought my way free, but the cost would’ve been too high.” And I’m afraid to die.
They passed the next mile in silence, until a swarm of dragonflies with one-foot wingspans descended. Amid swatting and cursing, Melissa learned they were called doublenippers and was happy for her tough hide. When one flew past her mouth, reflex kicked in. Chomp. Tasty, except for the wings. Phhhft.
Thedarra braided her hair. “I was jealous of Shorassa. She could weave, and paint and sculpt. Ecraveo loved her for it, and sat watching her for hours. However you did more than sit; you joined her. After you commissioned that first tapestry for your cave, you’d visit for days and turn common rock, sand, thread and wood into beautiful things. We figured you got jealous, 'cause folks were saying she was more gifted than you.”
“Another’s talent can make an immature artist sick with envy,” said Melissa. “It has the opposite effect on her teacher.” She felt happy at sounding so wise. However, talk of art reminded her of her computer drawing of Shoroko. She turned her attention away from Thedarra onto every sweet smelling bush and munched on greenery, but what filled her stomach left her heart empty, and her eyes began licking those precious scraps of sky. Without realizing she was singing, the olissair crooned:
“Lord of the air
Hear my cry;
I want to soar
Once more before I die.”
Thedarra whispered, “Are you giving up?”
“What?” Melissa blinked in puzzlement. She thought she’d made the verse up.
“You sang the departure song.”
Melissa became quiet, but now she didn’t feel alone. With four quaggas dragging her forward, she didn’t need her eyes, so she closed them. Over field and stream, her consciousness leaped. A wing of seven lissairn glided behind her, and below, Shoroko and Fear thundered over damp fields. She didn’t want the illusion to end, but low chatter distracted her.
Near dusk, their party reached the next way-station to be resupplied. A rider said, “Why are we leaving provisions for Lissai patrols? Will it make ‘em happy? We’re dragging their leader to trial! If that don’t guarantee civil war, I don’t know what will.”
A farmer replied, “If they don’t have liosh, roots, nuts and dried homzhash, they’ll have to forage instead of herding the migrating beasts away from our croplands and villages. We’ll be the losers. Maybe bad liosh did make White Talon crazy. Could get her off at trial and all this’ll blow over.”
“Free food only makes it easier if they decide to fi
ght us Hands! We need to be smart. Let’s get inside.” They entered the log cabin and prepared to encamp, leaving Melissa outside with two guards. They tied her between two trees and hitched the quaggas to posts. Left of the cabin stood three storage sheds and a well. Behind it ran a steep, rocky incline covered in short, gnarly trees. To the right was a stack of firewood and a stand of evergreens. One guard strapped a quiver to his back, climbed a rope up a pine tree and sat in a blind.
Being smart like the rider suggested would’ve meant paying attention to the insects. It was too early in the season for glowing bugs to scintillate brush and field. Six little luminous wisps danced above the trees. Then they weren’t little.
Fire rained down in sheets. The first blast set the roof on fire. A dark shape whooshed overhead. The next blast ignited one of the ropes holding Melissa. She tugged and the sizzling cable snapped. The door flew open and farmers and soldiers dashed out and scattered. Terror sent each to his purpose in silent fierceness. (Except Callyglip. He found the largest tree untouched by flame and hid.)
Melissa stood fast and gazed upward, unmoving. She made no further effort to burst her bonds. Were the Hands not in danger? Shouldn’t she act? Her eyes followed the gyrating form of a red lissair as he swiveled to present his hind claws forward and collide with a needle-cone tree. The tree bent to the breaking point, then snapped back and thrust the winged horror heavenward again. The recoiling tree flung something else: the Hand sentry concealed in its branches lost bow and perch and sped through the air. He’d prepared by tying a safety line about his waist. When its slack was gone, the man jerked back in a wide arc, intersected the path of a second diving lissair and grabbed him by the throat. The creature spiraled in like a tetherball, rammed another tree, and fell to the ground. Three more Hands flung a net over the fallen Claw fighter while a fourth readied his spear.
Her promise to the real White Talon tugged at Melissa’s heart. She must defend the fallen! Still she didn’t move. Fireworks dazzled her and she submitted to awe. Shoroko had spoken of her becoming a more convincing dragon. The exhilaration of her first flight couldn’t compare to the glory of Lissai in battle. She should not know these flying marvels, but from her brief communion with the elder white, she’d learned to read a dragon’s pattern of flight.
A Most Refined Dragon Page 8
