Paul Cook - Brother of the Dragon

“So the Master lost a hand?” he asked.

“Yes,” Zannian answered. “It’ll grow back, in time.”

Hoten watched the scattering raider host and sighed. “It’ll take time to get the men back together.”

“Don’t even bother until the Master finishes his fit,” Nacris put in.

“How long will that take?”

Nacris leaned forward tiredly, resting her head on Zannian’s back. “Until he’s done.”

Several leagues away, Duranix halted in his tracks. He was walking rather than flying to avoid giving away their position to the raiders. When Amero noticed the dragon wasn’t at their heels, he doubled back.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“Tiphan is dead.”

Amero pulled up short. “How do you know? Can you hear his thoughts, too?”

“He was too weak-minded for that.” Duranix waved a claw in the air as if shooing a pesky insect. “I heard something though, like many voices whispering of his death.”

Amero tried to feel sorry for Tiphan, but he could generate little sympathy for his foolish, headstrong rival. However, his heart was heavy, thinking of the beguiled young people who had died with their Tosen. He hurried on. With the Sensarku gone, there was nothing standing between them and the raiders.

Duranix followed more slowly, looking back in the direction of the Sensarku’s last stand. Whatever his motives, Tiphan had healed Duranix and given his life to save the dragon and the others. No human had ever done such a thing for a dragon before.

The sweetest sight Amero could imagine appeared: the walls of Yala-tene. He stood at the foot of the bridge that bore his name, a lump growing in his throat. They had come through.

His people had passed an uncertain night in a hasty defensive camp. Strangely, no raiders had attacked them. The peaceful night made Paharo and the others wonder if the Sensarku had succeeded and defeated the raiders after all. Duranix quickly quashed their hopes. It was possible Tiphan had delayed the raiders, he said, but he would know if Sthenn had been killed.

The orchard was in full bloom, and drifts of white and pink blossoms greeted Duranix and the weary humans as they crossed the bridge into the valley proper. The billowing petals lent an unreal air to their crossing, for these were from Tiphan’s enchanted trees, already twice as big as was natural for this time of year. If their growing continued, the villagers could be harvesting fruit well before the summer was over.

Jenla and the planters were working in the orchard and saw the lofty striding figure of Duranix before they spied Amero and the others. They came running, shouting cries of welcome. Though happy to be home, Amero had dismal news for them.

“The raiders may yet be coming,” he told the gathering of gardeners. “We must make ready to resist their attack. This Zannian leads a host of fifty score warriors and has the help of a vicious green dragon.”

“What of Tiphan and the Sensarku?” someone asked.

Grim silence revealed their fate more clearly than any words. Jenla shook her head, saying, “Pride was his undoing. Others may weep for him, but I can’t.”

Though Amero agreed with her, he knew of at least one person who would grieve. “I must tell Konza about this,” he said.

It was Jenla’s turn to reveal bad news. “Tiphan told us his father had gone east, seeking more of the spirit stones, but no one saw him leave,” she explained. “Trackers combed the upper passes, but they found no sign Konza had been through. I think Tiphan silenced his father, so the old man wouldn’t try to stop the ill-fated expedition.”

“Murder?” said Beramun, wide-eyed.

Jenla said no more, and the word hung in the air.

“We’ll puzzle that out later,” Amero told them. “We must get our defenses ready.”

“At least we have our Protector back,” said Tepa, taking in the dragon’s larger size. Duranix said nothing, his gaze still fixed on the western peaks.

The gardeners followed Amero’s little band back to town. Horns blew in a loud, flat chorus. Children lined the tops of the walls, and the elders trooped out to greet them.

Amero was pleased to see Udi, Tepa’s son, among the villagers. He had arrived in Yala-tene after Tiphan’s group had departed.

Duranix boosted Amero atop the lower wall. From there he addressed his people.

“Friends,” he said, “I’m glad to be back with Duranix and the brave scouts who came to find us. I grieve the loss of all the Sensarku.” He could not bring himself to mention Tiphan’s name. “Sad though I am, there’s no time for mourning. The threat from the raiders is grave. There are fifty score of them, led by a green dragon.”

Shocked silence greeted this announcement.

Nubis the stockman was the first to find his tongue. “When will they get here?”

“I don’t know, but we must make ready immediately. From this moment on, Yala-tene must become a war camp. Every villager over the age of fifteen will carry a spear at all times. Children will gather food and fodder for the animals. Every baffle must be sealed. By this time tomorrow, I want Yala-tene closed up tight and ready to fight!”

No one cheered, but no one objected either. Amero named his foundry master Huru as his second-in-command. Hulami the vintner was to take charge of the supplies of food and water. Montu and other craftsmen were to make weapons.

When he’d finished, Amero turned to Duranix and asked, “Do you have anything to say?”

The dragon’s head now rode well above the top of the wall, He surveyed the villagers clustered around him for a moment, then said, “Remember this — the raiders are not coming to steal your cattle, burn your homes, or carry off your women, though they will do all those things if they get the chance. They come at the will of Sthenn, who wants nothing less than the total destruction of Yala-tene.”

Few villagers dared ask questions of the bronze dragon. Jenla did.

“Why do they want to destroy us?” she said. “We’ve never done them any harm.”

“You exist. That is cause enough,” Duranix told her. This plainly did not satisfy her, so he elaborated. “Sthenn is a creature of corruption and chaos. He despises order in any form and hates any authority but his own whims. This village is an affront to his ideas and a threat to his desire to rule the plains as he does his native forest. You cannot bargain with him. You cannot buy him off. Your only hope is to fight. If you can defeat his horde, I will deal with him.”

Jenla nodded. “Let what the Protector says be done,” she said.

“Arkuden, about the baffles — ” Paharo began.

“I know.” Amero looked up at Duranix. “Can you bring boulders from the cliff and use them to block the entrances?”

Hungry and depleted from his long crawl across the plain, Duranix nonetheless agreed. There was no choice. No one else in Yala-tene could move enough stone in so short a time.

The villagers scattered to their tasks. Hulami marshaled the very old and the very young to gather food and water for people and beasts alike. Paharo remained behind after the villagers dispersed.

“Arkuden?” he said. “A word, please? I have an idea.”

Amero took the young hunter aside, and they conversed in low tones. Amero listened attentively, nodding in agreement with what Paharo was saying.

“Do it,” the Arkuden said at last. “Take whoever you need, but no more than thirty all told. I can’t weaken our defenses by more than that.”

Paharo went through the village, tapping young men and women to join him. He picked fleet, able hunters every one, none over the age of twenty. Bringing this band back to Amero, he announced his final selection: Beramun. She was still by the Arkuden’s side.