Roger Parkinson - Summon Your Dragons

“It is indeed the King!” said the sentry. “Welcome, Sire. I didn't believe you in the darkness.”

“Neither would I have,” said Menish. “Your herds won't suffer for such diligence.”

“Greetings, Sire. Come and sit with us,” called a man of about Menish’s age who sat by the central tent pole, the place reserved for the head of the thal. Menish recognised him but could not think of his name. Althak murmured it to him quietly.

“Thank you, Aronyar. We've travelled far today and are in need of food, rest and your good company.” Aronyar had more than one hundred head of cattle, yaks mostly, but a number of sheep and camels. Like Grath he was bigger than the southerners, but not as big as Althak. His long legs were thrust towards the fire, one bare foot nearly touching a glowing log. Behind him Menish could see the polished helmet and mail shirt he had been eager to show off at the last spring games. He had bought them from a Relanese merchant at great expense. In this hour of relaxation he had hung them from the tent pole and wore a woollen tunic and breeches.

Beside him, and similarly dressed except for the addition of two silver arm rings, sat a woman with long black hair who looked too young to be his wife. Ah, Menish remembered her, she was his daughter. She was richer than her father and was, therefore, technically the head of the thal, but she deferred to her father. He could not remember if Aronyar had any other children.

He nodded to the woman in greeting as he sat down, trying to think of her name. Althak was too far away from him now to whisper it.

Just as politeness required that a host did not inquire too deeply into a guest’s business, so it was the duty of a guest to give some account of himself. Menish came straight to the point.

“I also need riders. The thals must be told the news I bear. We must prepare for war with Gashan. The spring games will be an arms meet and we'll travel north afterwards to meet the Gashans as they come south.”

The woman at the fire passed them all bowls of mein.

“I'd heard rumours. We had a rider from Gildenthal through here not long ago.”

“We've come from Gashan,” said Althak. “We've seen them preparing themselves.”

A murmur ran through the tent. Several of the women made the old Anthorian sign against evil.

“From Gashan?” exclaimed Aronyar’s daughter. “You're lucky to be alive.”

Menish nodded. “Five of us entered Gashan, only three return. It was a hazardous journey.” He told them all that had happened since they had entered the Gashan forests. They all knew who Hrangil was, though none of them had known him well. It was Grath they mourned most, for he had come from the north. Aronyar knew his family and someone made a reference to a cattle raid he was suspected of making on their herds. They would miss having to pit their wits against Grath’s cunning.

“So I'll need riders to announce the arms meet. You know the law. Each thal that hears the summons should also send riders to bear the message further. The riders should travel four days before they turn their horses.”

“Yarrana, your group can bear the message. Make ready to depart by dawn.” He turned back to Menish. “Some more ambroth? No? Your friend isn't eating. Would you like some bread?”

“He doesn't eat,” said Althak.

“He's fasting? Why? Is he ill?”

“No, I am not ill.”

“You'll want some water at least.“

“No, thank you. I do not require anything.”

Aronyar shrugged.

“So you met one of the Monnar, eh? Strange folk, tricky I call them. They're often not what they seem.” He chuckled. “I must confess I've never seen one, that is if you don’t count old One-ear at Gildenthal. The Relanese say they have no names so that they can tell lies. They're more often heard of than seen. Tela saw one once.”

“Many years ago now,” said his daughter. “I was just a girl. An old woman found me when I was lost after raiders had struck our herds. She was a wrinkled, toothless old thing with a bent back. I've never heard of a young Monnar. She said she would guide me home for a price, but I found my own way.”

“What was the price?”

“My first child. I would've cheated her anyway,” she held up her unbound hair, “for I have none. I've not even married.”

“The old man cured your centipede bite, Althak. But you don't say what happened to Azkun’s bite.”

“He looked at it,” said Menish.

“He touched it and laughed,” said Azkun. “But he did not heal it. I am preserved and sustained by the dragons. And I distrust the Monnar.”

“So do I,” said Tela. “What good they do is for their own dark purposes.”

“What's this talk of dragons?” asked Aronyar. “Ah, but you're Vorthenki, I can see that.”

“I do not worship Kopth. But I am a bridge to the dragons who are the true masters of the world.”

“Surely you speak of Kopth, then. The Vorthenki dragon-god.”

“Kopth is a twisted shadow of the dragons. They do not require blood as the Vorthenki believe Kopth does. They require peace. And they forbid death.”

“Well, that would suit those of us who are long in the tooth,” said Aronyar cheerfully. “For myself I've always called on Aton, for he's easy to find. He's there by day in the sun and by night he's in the flame of the lamp or cooking fire. Of course, I was never Relanese enough for the Sons of Gilish.

“But here in the north we don't forget that Aton is also Krith and that Kiveli, his wife, makes the pasture green in the spring.”

“These are only symbols for the truth,” said Azkun, “and the truth is the dragons. I know, I have been bathed in dragon fire and given this truth. It is the dragons who hold power, no other.”

“Azkun, don't offend our hosts with this talk,” said Menish. He did not want to hear this nonsense of dragons. Hrangil was dead and Azkun and his dragons had done nothing.

“No, no, I am interested. Is this true? You've stood in dragon fire?”

“It is true,” said Althak. “We saw it ourselves.”

“It is also true that he did nothing to save Hrangil. This truth of dragons is like shifting sand. Who are you, Azkun, to throw doubt on another’s gods?”

“You mean he actually stood in the fire and wasn't burned?” asked Aronyar as if Menish had not spoken.

“And for how long did he stand in it?” asked Tela. “I can put my hand in the fire and draw it out quickly.”

“No,” said Althak. “He stood in the fire long enough to die in it. But, as you see he lives.”

“This is only the word of a Vorthenki,” muttered one of the men. Aronyar and the others also looked doubtfully at Althak, turning to Menish for confirmation. Menish hated to see Althak so doubted because of his race. His anger flared.

“You doubt Althak’s word? The word of your guest? Of my friend? Then will you doubt my word too? I saw Azkun stand in dragon fire. Althak speaks truly as always.”

Althak laughed, dispelling Menish’s anger.

“M’Lord, anyone may be doubted who makes such claims. I take no offence.”

“So it is true?” said Tela.

“I don't understand,” said Aronyar. “We're too far from the sea for dragons to come. How can they be masters of the world?”

“In the beginning were the dragons. They made the world. You see them as beasts that breathe fire. They are much more than this. And I tell you: the dragons will deliver you from Gashan, not your swords.”

The next day Aronyar’s riders left at dawn to spread Menish’s message. Menish knew that they would take more than the simple news of war. All of them had heard the whole story of the expedition to Gashan, of Grath’s and Hrangil’s deaths and of the Duzral Eye. This news would also go with them, together with their own embroidering of the tale that inevitably crept in.