Regent

by Brian Rathbone

  * * *

  Anxious tension polluted the air around Brother Vaughn. His ability to sense what others were feeling was normally something he considered a gift, but when in a crowd, it could become overwhelming. Without the ability to filter out the feelings of others, he often found himself taking on the emotions projected at him. Thus, he found himself excited yet skeptical and cautious. The people would not turn down an opportunity for revelry, but no one seemed convinced that an impromptu party for the dragons could be as simple and innocent as Mirta and the others portrayed. The people of Upperton and Lowerton and those who lived in the keep all knew that dragon ore provided most of Catrin's wealth, and the thought of Kyrien bringing her more dragon ore seemed to supply enough motivation to stifle any uncomfortable lines of questioning.

  Catrin's absence from the festivities was certainly not easily explained, yet no one asked. Most were content to let the Herald of Istra do whatever it was she did without the need for details. She was an enigma and probably best left that way.

  The sound of a man clearing his throat brought Brother Vaughn out of his contemplation. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Brother Vaughn, but I've come to ask something of you," Cattleman Gerard said.

  The timbre of his voice made Brother Vaughn look up. The man's anxiety drowned out that of the crowd. Brother Vaughn's eyes drifted lower, and his breath caught in his throat. Staring up at him was a girl as slight as the wind, pale and thin, with piercing, black eyes that spoke of more wisdom that her wispy form would belie.

  "Does her father know she's here?" Brother Vaughn asked, already knowing the answer was no. This girl was Trinda Hollis, daughter of the man who'd murdered Catrin's mother and aunt and who had tried to kill Catrin and her father. She was a puzzle, to be sure. Though she was not responsible for any of it, her safety had been the motivating factor behind the crimes. The Kytes, the age-old enemy of Catrin's mother's family, had tortured Trinda to coerce Baker Hollis to poison the Volkers. The Volkers had somehow made peace with the Kytes and found forgiveness for Baker Hollis, but his name was never spoken within Dragonhold, and the sight of Trinda could bring only pain. "This could start a war," Brother Vaughn whispered. "You know that, don't you?"

  "I do," Cattleman Gerard replied, his eyes downcast. "But I cannot turn away a child who's come to me for help. I just can't." Tears ran down the big man's cheeks, and Brother Vaughn could not help but respect the man's heart, even if he seriously questioned his judgment.

  Though of an age with Catrin, Trinda was tiny and her manner childlike. Perhaps the trauma of her childhood had stunted her development, he thought. Trinda waited patiently, but when Brother Vaughn met her eyes, he was captivated. She radiated calm, yet there was a desperate plea in her eyes, one that pulled at every thread of his humanity. In her hands she gripped a folded parchment. She held it out to him.

  My little girl needs help. Do not blame her for my crimes. Be kind to her, please.

  No name, no seal, nothing that could directly link the note to Baker Hollis. Brother Vaughn refolded the parchment and handed it back, trying not to meet Trinda's eyes. "For now, take her to the Watering Hole. I'll see what I can do," his lips said, but his eyes told Cattleman Gerard that he was not at all optimistic.

  At that moment, Mirta climbed atop a makeshift stage. The crowd grew quiet.

  "Thank you to all of you for coming to honor our friend Kyrien, dragon to the Lady Catrin, he who has provided for all of us. Tonight we thank him or his service and we call for him to come back to us--with dragon ore or without. He is what is most precious to us, and I'm hoping you will help me express that to him through our thoughts and songs."

  The crowd responded with what seemed almost genuine enthusiasm, though Brother Vaughn still sensed an undercurrent of trepidation. Yet when he looked down at Trinda, he felt a sudden and overwhelming sense of hope. Her eyes glistened and she looked as if she might actually smile.

  "You want to help thank Kyrien?" Brother Vaughn asked, but Trinda just shook her head. Brother Vaughn thought for a moment. "You want to help ask Kyrien to come here?" This brought the most enthusiasm from Trinda that either man had ever seen. She nodded briskly, tears streaming down her face. Her little hands trembled, and Brother Vaughn could now better understand Cattleman Gerard's dilemma. He took her tiny hand in his and walked her over to where Mirta stood.

  Mirta saw him coming and cast him a quizzical glance but continued as she had been. "I know we don't have any songs to sing specifically for Kyrien, but harvest songs are full of gratitude, so I thought we could start out by singing "The Piemaker's Dirge." Do you all know that one?" Enough people in the crowd clapped their hands that Mirta began to sing. Her voice shook with emotion, very clear as she started the song alone. Then slowly the crowd began to join in. Brother Vaughn cringed at the sound and thought the song might better serve to chase things away. He instantly thought less of himself for even thinking it and added his steady baritone to the mix.

  Trinda pulled free from his grip and ran to Mirta, pulling on her skirts and shaking her head. Mirta looked down in surprise and stopped singing. The crowd trailed off, all eyes resting on Trinda. She took Mirta's hand and quite simply began to sing. Her voice was truly magical; it cast even the birds into silence and held those who heard it within her spell. Mirta, joined in, somehow knowing where the simple tune would go next, playing near-perfect harmony to Trinda. A woman in the crowd stepped forward and began to sing along, as the melody repeated and became recognizable.

  Brother Vaughn held his breath as Trinda demonstrated more ability and control than any student of the academy had shown since its inception. A dim light shone around her and Mirta, and the crowd swayed in unison, following her movements like a field of grain blown by the wind. Time seemed to shift and move. Brother Vaughn didn't know how long they had been singing, though it seemed longer than he could reconcile. When he spotted something unbelievable soaring through the valley, his heart nearly stopped.

  Frozen in place, Brother Vaughn was entranced by the gorgeous beast that winged its way through the valley toward the awaiting crowd, yet it filled him with fear. This beast looked nothing like Kyrien, and its gaze made Brother Vaughn feel more like prey than an ally.

  Trinda seemed lost in a trance, and her voice alone continued to sing. The rest were trying to decide if they were excited or terrified; soon most opted for the latter. The glistening black dragon shone blue for an instant as it turned into the sun, but then it trimmed its wings and dived straight for Trinda. Like an arrow, it sliced the air.

  Movement surged through the crowd as one person leaped, flipped, and twisted her way to where Trinda sang. In the instant before the dragon would take her, Kendra shoved Trinda to the side. Brother Vaughn's heart jumped into his throat as the fearsome dragon grabbed Kendra in its claws. With three flaps of its mighty wings, it sent everyone below sprawling and thrust itself higher into the air. Kendra appeared to be trying to wriggle free, but the great beast soared up to the top of the ridgeline. Once over the ridge, it could disappear into the Chinawpa Valley or even into the Arghast Desert. Brother Vaughn knew the girl would be lost.

  The crowd regained its feet and froze, watching the dragon fly away. Then the people gave a collective gasp as another, larger dragon slammed into the first, sending Kendra tumbling out onto the rocky ridgeline. She landed hard and began to roll, loose bits of rock sliding around her. It looked as if she would be tossed over a steep cliff, but she slammed into a scraggly tree that held her fast.

  Dark shadows raced along the valley, and those brave enough to look up became awash in primal fear. At least a dozen feral dragons had heard Trinda's call, and now they seemed to be looking for a free meal. Screams filled the air as people tried to find shelter, but the valley floor was all too vulnerable. The wooden buildings there were no match for the might of a full-grown dragon, and the steep climb to the main entrance of Dragonhold would leave them exposed for far too long.

  Swallowing hard, Brother
Vaughn realized there was no place safe to hide. Once again, he looked up and saw something his mind had difficulty grasping. From the top of the ridgeline, men were jumping onto the backs of dragons as they passed. Convinced he was losing his mind, Brother Vaughn did what he could to shepherd people into what little shelter could be found. The modest protection of the buildings was far better than standing on open ground, waiting to be eaten.

  With Trinda over his shoulder, Brother Vaughn ran as fast as he could, the dragon's breath, hot, moist, and smelling of death, buffeted him from behind. Ahead the doors of the Watering Hole stood open. Miss Helen stood within, ready to pull the heavy doors shut, for all the good it would do them. He could see her screaming but heard no words. He could feel Trinda shifting and stretching, as if she were reaching out to the dragon instead of fleeing from it. It was the girl the dragon wanted, this Brother Vaughn knew, but he would not allow her to be sacrificed. Thus, he risked himself and everyone within the Watering Hole in an attempt to save her. The waiting inn seemed impossibly far away, and dust and debris flew around them. Brother Vaughn could feel the changes in air pressure as the leviathan approached, and he knew he was not going to be fast enough.

  After a life of dreaming about giant, flying creatures, Brother Vaughn now knew just how terrifying such creatures could be. The deadly strike did not come, and Brother Vaughn fell into the Watering Hole, into waiting arms that supported and somehow turned him around just in time to see the door shut. Through the ever-narrowing gap, he saw that the dragon, which had been pursuing him, was also busy contending with one of the Arghast. The man stood atop the root of the beast's neck, which seemed to be the one spot where neither claws nor fangs could reach. In the last instant before the door closed, the dragon slammed itself against the canyon wall, trying to crush its unwanted rider.

  Miss Helen pulled Trinda away from him and tended to her scrapes and bruises. Brother Vaughn and everyone else in the inn did their best to keep quiet. Constructed from multiple sections of a greatoak, the Watering Hole could withstand high winds and tremors, but a hungry flight of dragons might be too much for it. Cries rang out as the common room suddenly lurched sideways. Driven to his knees by the impact, Brother Vaughn noted that the dragons did not need to get them out to kill them; just turning the building upside down and giving it a shake would do the job just fine. Bowls, mugs, and even knives flew from shelves and cupboards as the Watering Hole shook. The highly polished bar cracked with an ear-crushing snap. It seemed the end was near.