The old woman nodded. “And Patma here is among the best at it, if we can just teach her calmness.”
The girl sniffed. Heather whispered to her, “Thank you for being with me in my mind when I needed a friend, when I needed hope.”
The little girl smiled. “You had lots of friends. See, they didn’t leave you.” She gave Heather a tight hug. “Let’s talk when we can. I can teach you to have hope, and you can teach me to be brave.”
“Deal,” Heather said, hugging the girl back. “Though you’re plenty brave already.”
The old woman slipped off her own fur-lined jacket and draped it over Heather and her flimsy red dress. Thanking her, Heather let Merlin lead her to the dragon and help her onto its scaly back.
“Another weight to carry,” Blanche grumbled once her passengers were on board. “I may up my rates.”
“What, a great god like you?” Merlin said. “Surely you can handle anything.”
“Humph!” Blanche got to her feet and spread her wings, sending the circle of her admirers scurrying back.
Merlin called down, “Thank you all, but quickly now, go back. I don’t know your Kali. Perhaps, as a goddess, she is less petty. But Morgan Le Fay is big on vengeance.”
The dragon lumbered into a trot over the rocky plateau. Then, with great thrusts of her wings, she soared into the air. The people below stared in awe for a moment, then hurried into the concealment of their rocks and caves.
“Keep low,” Merlin cried over the wind of flight. “We don’t want to be seen from the other side of this mountain.”
“You dare order a god around?” Blanche said even as she dropped lower.
“Hey, dragon,” Welly called. “They thought we were all gods or heroes or something.”
“Right! Troll monkey god!” Troll frowned to himself. “What is monkey?”
Heather, who was now riding between Merlin and Welly, answered. “The books say they were very clever little creatures. Maybe there still are some around here, but I’d rather not stay to find out.”
“Right,” Welly echoed. “Can we go home now?”
“Yes,” Merlin said. “Arthur is waiting. And Morgan’s goal is still to destroy him.”
“That’s not her only goal,” Heather said.
Merlin craned around to look at her. “What do you mean?”
“I’m not sure. Morgan was so full of lies. But she did keep talking about increasing her power and somehow…reshaping the world.”
For long moments, Merlin remained silent. Then he growled, “Yes. I see it. Morgan and Arthur’s conflict has always been about Britain. But Britain is not the whole surviving world—not the way we thought.”
“So how does that change things, for us, I mean?” Welly asked.
“If there are indeed clusters of humans, muties, and Otherworlders scattered over the world, then it can perhaps be united. United either by Morgan’s kind or by Arthur’s.”
Troll’s eyes widened even more. “So back to Arthur! Tell him!”
Quietly Welly added, “Morgan will want to stop us from doing that, won’t she?”
Merlin nodded. “She’ll be after us with even more than vengeance in mind.”
Blanche broke in. “Great. Here I am, happily flying along—but where to? Give me some directions, can’t you?”
“The world is round,” Merlin answered. “I’ve learned that much since I was living before. We could go either way. But taking a different route might make it harder for Morgan to follow. She’s spent lots of time in Europe and probably has more allies there. So let’s head the other way. East.”
Abruptly the dragon veered right, leaving her passengers white-knuckled and gasping. “East it is,” she called. “Though I sure hope you’re right about this world-being-round thing. Sounds daft to me!”
STEPPE
Mountains frosted in snow, glaciers shouldering their way down desolate valleys, and then came deserts. At first the deserts looked dry and natural, like they had been bleached that way since the beginning of time. Then came deserts with twisted ruins poking through the sand—ruined places where people had once lived. Finally came bleakness beyond the concept of desert. Lifeless glassy plains, too blasted to hold even a hint of former cities.
Blanche’s admirers had loaded bags of offerings on her back before their departure. Now the travelers had smoked meat, bread, and dried fruit to sustain them. In much of the land they passed over, not even the sharpest predator could find anything living below.
The more days that passed, the less certain they were of pursuit. But their brief rest stops on land were not cheerful ones. The dead surroundings were too oppressive. At one stop, a chill camp on a bare ridge of red rock, they discussed again their route home.
“I wish I had paid more attention to that globe,” Merlin admitted.
“Troll liked globe. Almost took globe, not beads, as prezzie from Queen. Still like beads best.” He gleefully twirled his string of iridescent plastic beads.
The dragon snorted, melting the sand in front of her nose into shiny rivers of glass. “Your ridiculous beads wouldn’t tempt even the poorest dragon. Not that I’ve seen even a glimmer of gold or jewels on this grand world tour. You all probably saw lots in that fancy temple, but did anyone bother to snatch up a few trinkets for your loyal dragon? Not on your life!”
“That’s exactly it, you greedy dragon,” Welly snapped. “We were mostly running for our lives.”
Trying to soothe tempers, Heather turned the talk back. “Well, Troll, you spent time looking at that globe. What would you say about where we are now?”
Troll beamed at being asked such an important question. “China!”
“Or what’s left of it,” Blanche grumbled. “Not exactly the dragon paradise that crazy Baba woman prattled about.”
“There certainly isn’t much here,” Merlin said. “What do you sense, Heather? Any voices?”
“Nothing here,” Heather said with a shiver. “It feels totally dead. Maybe north of here…I don’t know for sure. But it feels less bleak somehow. And I think that’s where one of my voices is—the one who used to talk about horses. So some humans must still be there.”
Then suddenly she looked at Merlin. “But I just remembered. Morgan said once that your power would be weakened the farther she lured you from your homeland. Is that happening?”
He smiled and enfolded her in a hug. “No. And I have you to thank for that.”
“How?”
“You have been drawing me into the new magic, the power that takes its strength from life—and love. Then the staff you made for me wove both magics together—formed from ancient oak, shaped into images of friends, and carved with love. It’s helping me make the transition between magics. I realized that in the temple. The power of hate and death there was suffocatingly thick, but I still felt tied to the web of warm magic that links the whole world.”
Blanche groaned and rolled over. “Wizards! Talk, talk, talk about magic. Dragons just do it. Go to sleep!”
The next day, they headed north to where their memories of geography told them would be Mongolia. After a long stretch of desert, low mountains ahead of them at least promised some visual relief. As they approached them, though, the dragon slowed, her wing beats hesitant and shuddering.
“What’s the matter?” Merlin asked.
“There’s something…something up ahead. I don’t know if I like it or hate it…but…There! Wrapped around that peak!”
Along with the others, Merlin stared at the peak. It seemed wreathed in cloud. He did feel a presence, not evil exactly, but…Then he saw it. The dark cloud slowly unwrapped itself from the mountaintop. Menacingly it slid through the air toward them, taking shape as it came.
Long and black, flecked with gold. A dragon.
“Ooh, friend for Blanche!” Troll crowed.
Beneath them Blanche’s growl shook her whole body. Merlin said quietly to Troll, “Dragons don’t go in for friendship much. They’re genera
lly loners and…very territorial!” That last was shouted as the black dragon suddenly picked up speed, shooting toward them with mouth open and golden fangs glistening. Blanche swerved aside just as Merlin hastily wrapped a protective spell around the riders to hold them on her back.
“Blanche, should I use—” Merlin yelled, but she cut him off.
“No, boy, stay out of things! This is dragon business.”
The black dragon was nearly on them now, his great leather wings slicing the air. He was much larger and slimmer than Blanche. Gold rimmed his black scales and drooped from his muzzle like whiskers. The roar as he rushed down on them was like an approaching hurricane.
Abruptly Blanche rolled upside down and shot a jet of flame at the dragon’s belly as he swooped over. His roar turned to a shriek, and he jackknifed around. His golden eyes glared and he opened his mouth. Despite Blanche, Merlin raised a protective shield. A blast of flame from a dragon that size could incinerate them all.
The shield did them no good. What the dragon spewed out was not fire but wind. An icy blast caught them square on, tumbled Blanche over like a leaf, and blew her a mile away. When she recovered herself, she snarled and shot back toward her adversary like a spear. Flame leaped from her mouth.
The black dragon dodged one volley, then countered her next with a blast of arctic air. It froze the flames and sent them falling like shards of bright glass toward the distant ground. Furious, Blanch twisted and swerved, shooting volley after volley of fire. Most were blown aside, but one grazed the black dragon’s left hind leg. He roared, battering them with another hurricane blast. Blanche righted herself and charged in again, bellowing fire.
The battle seemed endless. Blanche’s riders gave up trying to follow it and just held on, praying Merlin’s protective and securing magic would hold. Among the roars, shrieks, and rumbles, they heard snatches of words.
“My territory! Foreign interloper! Invading scum!”
“Greedy, arrogant bully! Inhospitable wretch!”
Merlin tried to make himself heard. “Blanche, go! Get us out of here!”
“Is that an order, boy?” she snapped between blasts of flame.
“Yes! Leave, now!”
“Only for you, then, sniveling cowards that you are.” With a parting volley of flame aimed at the huge black dragon, she wheeled away and flew rapidly past the mountain. The four riders turned and looked fearfully over their shoulders. The black dragon had returned to his mountain peak. Rearing up with wings outstretched, he shot off a parting blast, hurrying them on even faster.
When the wind finally died and their pace returned to leisurely flapping, everyone seemed to breathe again.
“That…,” Welly said, “that was…amazing.”
“Yes,” Blanche answered dreamily, “isn’t he magnificent?”
“But he tried to kill you!” Heather exclaimed.
“Of course,” Blanche said matter-of-factly. “He’s a dragon—that’s what we do.”
“But…”
In front of Heather, Merlin shook his head. “Don’t argue about dragons with dragons. They have their own logic.”
Blanche didn’t respond, angrily or otherwise. She just flew on, humming happily. Occasionally she sighed and looked back over her shoulder.
As that day lengthened, the desert below began to be furred with gray-green grass. Here and there, round white tents could be seen. What interested Blanche more were the occasional herds of animals. The sun was near setting as they passed over another scattering of black dots.
“Dinnertime!” Blanche announced as she dropped into a steep dive. “Worked up quite an appetite back there.”
Heather closed her eyes in terror but suddenly popped them open as she heard a voice in her mind. Hey, make your flying steed leave my goats alone!
What? Where are you?
Here, herding my goats. I’ll shoot you out of the sky with my arrows! Don’t want to. But I’m a good shot.
Looking down, Heather saw a lone horseback rider galloping after the fleeing goat herd. She yelled at Blanche, “Stop! Not those goats.”
The dragon kept diving, spreading her talons.
“Earl, make her stop!” Heather screamed. “I’m talking to the herdsman.”
“You heard her, Blanche. Hold off! We’ll get you some other food.”
With an angry snort, the dragon spread her wings and veered off. An arrow arched through the air where she would have been. A second arrow she caught in one claw and crushed to splinters.
“Thank you, Blanche,” Merlin said evenly. “Now please land. We need to talk with this boy.”
When the dragon landed and her riders clambered off, Blanche turned her back on them and kept an angry, hungry eye on the fleeing goat herd. The young herder urged his horse toward them. The animal was smaller and shaggier than their British horses and seemed very leery of getting any closer to the dragon. Finally the boy dismounted, hobbled the horse, and walked the rest of the way.
“We’ve talked before, haven’t we?” he said to Heather.
“And you talked mostly about horses.”
He grinned. “That’s what I always talk about.” The boy pointed at Blanche. “Where you come from, do you ride those things instead of horses?”
“No, she’s special. And we apologize for her. She’s been doing a lot of work and is really hungry.”
Overhearing, Blanche snorted angrily. “Don’t you ever apologize for a dragon being a dragon! We do what we do and don’t sneak around lying or trying to control others like some humans I’ve known.”
“A dragon?” the boy said. He looked impressed but not particularly terrified. “I heard there was a dragon in some mountains south of here. But I thought it was black.”
“He is, a beautiful black,” Blanche sighed.
Merlin stepped forward. “I’m sorry we scared your goats, but would it be possible for us perhaps to buy one of them from you? We need to travel quickly, and our mount does need some food.”
“No need to buy when you are our guests. Night is coming. You must spend it with my family. Our yurt is just over there.” He pointed toward a white mushroom-like tent on the other side of the sparsely grassed valley.
The boy smiled again, showing brilliant white teeth in a weathered brown face. “Grandfather will want to meet all of you. He’s the shaman here and is always telling us about fabulous beasts and spirits and about far places. I didn’t really believe in those places until I started hearing the voices.”
As they walked back toward his horse, Heather eagerly asked, “Do you hear lots of voices? From all over?”
“I do now. Some talk about things I don’t know anything about. That’s how I guess they are far away.”
“Things like jaguars?”
The boy laughed. “You’ve talked with him too! What is a jaguar?”
“A big spotted cat,” Heather explained. “We don’t have them where I live either.”
The boy stopped and looked back at Blanche, who was still sulking where she’d landed. “Come with us, honorable flying steed,” he called. “There will be goat meat at the yurt. Grandfather said this morning that he sensed guests coming. So we have prepared, though we weren’t looking high enough.”
The boy unhobbled his horse and with a slap sent the nervous animal galloping home. Then the four humans and one troll, with the dragon trailing behind, walked over the dry crackling grass toward the white tent. As they approached, an elderly man, a middle-aged woman, and a girl about Heather’s age stepped out. So did a black dog, who barked, looked at the dragon, then with a whimper slunk back into the yurt.
The old man stepped forward, his long wispy mustache fluttering slightly in the chill breeze. He recited ritual greetings, then said, “I foresaw guests, but not such a variety.” He looked at Heather and Welly. “Some from far places. And some from far times,” he added, shifting his gaze to Merlin and his startlingly pale skin. “Some even from other worlds, it seems,” he said, bowing slightl
y to Troll. “And a dragon—though not from these parts, I think. Badrack, better fetch our winged guest the extra goat. Good thing we had warning.”
As the boy ran off behind the yurt, the old man addressed the rest. “Welcome and come in. Accept our poor offerings.”
One by one, they stepped through the low wooden doorway and took up offered places on the tattered and worn rugs that covered the floor. In the center, an ancient iron stove sent more smoke into the tent than found its way out the central smoke hole. The crisscross lattice frame of the round tent showed in the lower walls. The domed cloth ceiling was held up by wooden beams, their once-bright paint now faded. Bedrolls and cupboards lined the base of the walls.
Heather found herself sitting next to the younger girl, whose glossy black braids were twice as thick as Heather’s dirty-blond ones. Heather looked at them admiringly, then realized the girl was looking the same way at the embroidered red dress she’d been wearing since fleeing Kali’s temple.
Heather smiled. “If you like the dress, I’ll trade it for warm leather trousers and a top like yours. Do you have any old ones you don’t wear anymore?”
“You’d give up such a fine thing?”
“Gladly.”
In an instant, the girl was pawing through a cupboard. Soon the two moved into a shadowed corner, and in a flurry of giggles, the exchange was completed. Dressed in embroidered finery, the girl was soon laughing and spinning around in the crowded tent while Heather was sitting comfortably in fur-lined leather clothes that smelled heavily of goat.
“Watch out you don’t get too close to Blanche wearing that,” Merlin whispered. “One sniff and she’ll think you’re another meal.”
She cuffed him playfully. “You just try riding astride a dragon wearing a long flimsy dress. Besides, I don’t want anything that Morgan gave me. Mostly she gave me lies.”
“She’s the Mistress of Lies.”
The Mongol woman was busy passing out bowls of runny white stuff and hard white stuff. When Heather received her share, she tried not to wrinkle her nose. Both smelled and tasted of goat. The next course was greasy chunks of meat that definitely were goat. As they were eating and trying to nod their appreciation, Badrack came back into the yurt.
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