Ширли Мерфи - The Dragonbards

Teb jumped from Seastrider’s back to the rocks and climbed the steep cliff. As Seastrider rose to circle, he started along the island’s rim toward Thakkur’s cave, tense with dread.

The island was so still, the only sound the pounding of the waves. By dawn the otters should be out of their caves, fishing and playing. He paused on the ridge above the entrance to Thakkur’s cave, afraid to go down, afraid of what he would find.

At last, sword drawn, he moved down the wet, black cliff, and stood beside the cave door, listening.

The soft, regular huffing of a snoring otter filled the dim space. He grinned and sheathed his sword, then moved inside.

He could see the white blur of Thakkur, sprawled on his sleeping shelf.

“Thakkur.”

Another snore.

“Thakkur!”

The snores became uneven huffing. How many times had Teb heard that sound. The white otter turned over and began snoring evenly again.

“Thakkur! Wake up! The shad are running!”

Thakkur sat up grabbing his sword in one motion, his teeth bared in a fierce otter challenge.

“The shad are running. Come and fish with me!”

Thakkur dropped his sword with a shout of ‘Tebriel!” and leaped to meet Teb’s outstretched arms, nearly smothering him in warm, silky, fishy-smelling fur. ‘Tebriel! When did you come? What—what has happened to bring you?”

“Must something happen? Can’t I just visit?”

“You’ve been busy winning wars. There’s no time for pleasure. What brought you?”

“A vision,” Teb said. “A battle—dark raiders. But . . .”

The white otter smiled. “It has already happened. Sivich marched for Nightpool last night. We survived it nicely, thanks to Charkky and Mikk.”

Teb sat down on the stone sleeping shelf. “Tell me. I thought you would be—”

“We are not dead, Tebriel. Charkky and Mikk returned around midnight with a band of our best young otters. They tricked Sivich nicely. They alerted Ebis the Black, then stole all of Sivich’s horses. They guessed Sivich would attack Nightpool anyway, furious at the loss of the horses. We have badgered him constantly, and he has seen our scouts.”

“Well? What happened?”

“Oh, he marched for Nightpool, all right—all those horse soldiers having to go on foot.” Thakkur smiled, his white whiskers twitching, his dark eyes deep with sweet revenge. “When Sivich’s armies were halfway to Nightpool, Ebis the Black’s best horse soldiers surrounded them and killed them.”

Teb smiled. “We thought . . .” A commotion in the sea stopped him. Thakkur stepped to the door, sword drawn.

The white otter stood watching uncertainly as, beneath the cliff, the water roiled and heaved. Suddenly a huge white head burst out. Thakkur stared, then said, “Hah!” He stood his ground, looking, and Seastrider stared back at him, her green eyes laughing. A tuna dangled from her fangs. A second later, Windcaller crashed onto the sea from the sky, nearly drenching the island, certainly drenching her rider.

Teb had never seen Thakkur speechless. The white otter’s eyes were eager. His whiskers worked with excitement. He seemed to absorb every shining line of the dragons, every reflected color, every curve of their spreading wings. These were the creatures he had seen only in vision, had only dreamed about.

Seastrider thrust her head at the white otter, pushed her nose at his face, and nuzzled his whiskers. Thakkur stroked her nose, his dark eyes bright with wonder.

“You are Thakkur,” she said. “You are the Seer of Nightpool.”

“I am Thakkur.”

“Come on my back, great white otter. I will show you the sky.”

Teb had to laugh at Thakkur; the white otter’s eagerness made him shiver like a cub. Seastrider swam close to the cliff, holding steady in the waves. Thakkur leaped from the cliff to her back as if he did it every day, then tucked his paws into the white leather harness.

As Seastrider lifted into the silvered sky, bearing the white otter, a shout behind Teb made him turn.

“Hah! Dragons! There are dragons!”

“Thakkur—on a dragon! Oh, my!”

Chapter 10

On Ekthuma, five speaking wolves were discovered talking with some children. They were killed and their bodies bound by chain to the children’s necks, and the children were made to drag them about the city. That is the way of the un-men. They hunger to destroy warmth and love.

*

“Dragons in the sea! Hah, dragons!”

Teb stared up the cliff. Two sleek brown faces looked down at him with broad, whiskered grins and dark eyes shining.

“Charkky! Mikk!”

“Tebriel! You have dragons!”

The two otters slid down the cliff to embrace him. They smelled richly of the sea and of fish. Teb knelt and gathered them in, hugging them, laughing with pleasure into their whiskered faces. Charkky pounded his back. “It’s a dream!” Charkky shouted. “You really do have dragons! You found dragons!” Mikk winked at him with admiration and looked up at Windcaller banking away over their heads. Kiri sat on a rock, watching them with interest.

“Maybe a dream,” Mikk said, “but their wings make real wind. And Teb is real, I can smell him! And who is that sitting on the rock?”

“Kiri,” Teb said, putting out a hand to her. She came to stand beside him. Mikk shook her hand.

Charkky smiled shyly when she shook his paw; he turned away and pulled at Teb’s arm. “Now that you have dragons, Tebriel, you can drive Sivich from the land. Kill Sivich—”

“I thought Ebis killed him. I thought—”

“Oh, Ebis didn’t kill Sivich,” Charkky said with disgust. “Sivich escaped. He was mounted— he wouldn’t go into battle on foot. He keeps a few horses locked in the stable; we couldn’t get at them. We had to leave them behind.”

Kiri looked from one otter to the other, first puzzled, then with surprised admiration. “So that was what happened to the horses. You stole them? I saw the battlefield.”

The two otters smiled.

Teb said, “If Sivich escaped, we’ll find him.” He put a stranglehold on Charkky so the young otter thrashed helplessly. With his face close to Charkky’s, looking into the otter’s dark eyes, Teb said in a low, growling voice, “We will destroy him—together, we will.”

“Hah, Tebriel! We’ll do that!” Charkky cried.

Teb held Charkky away, laughing. “I want to hear all about last night. How were you sure they were going to attack? How did you get the horses away?”

“We have spies in the palace,” Mikk said. “Sivich decided to attack Nightpool when he found out we had been stealing his food and weapons.”

Charkky laughed. “He was pretty mad, raving about wiping out Nightpool and killing all of us. Vermin, he called us!”

“So the night of his planned attack,” Mikk said, “we loosed the horses and drove them off toward the mountains, to be picked up by rebel troops from the coast.”

Teb looked impressed.

“Horses do not like growling otters biting at their heels,” Charkky said.

“You’re pretty well organized,” Teb said.

Mikk’s whiskers stiffened with pride.

“What happened when Sivich discovered his horses were gone?” Kiri asked.

“Hah,” Charkky said. “He was madder than sin, too mad to scrap the attack. He set out for Nightpool with half his soldiers—a hundred soldiers on foot and only himself and three officers mounted.”

Mikk twirled his worry stones. “His foot troops came at double march, and we followed them all the way, running in the darkness. Sivich kept grumbling and muttering about how he would slaughter us all.”

“ He thought he’d just march down the cliff,” Charkky said, “and swim his soldiers across to kill us like sheep in a pen.”