Ширли Мерфи - The Dragonbards

But it was the ceiling that interested Teb. The cave’s ceiling curved upward and caught the firelight in a deep metallic glow shot with streaks like silver.

“The roof is iron,” King Flam said. “You puzzle over it, and rightly. It is not iron of our world, Prince Tebriel, but comes from some world none of us has ever seen. It is iron that fell into this mountain, crashing down out of the sky thousands of years ago.”

Teb’s mind touched the knowledge. All history was a part of the bard knowledge, though some was muddled, now, by the dark’s powers. He tried very hard, rejecting visions, seeking others, until he could see the world of Tirror before there was life on it. It was a mass of molten stone, with the fires of other worlds blasting into it. He saw a fireball fall onto the mountains of Yoorthed and lodge there. He could see the cave that washed out beneath the iron over centuries.

“The iron has power,” King Flam said. “It keeps the dark from us; they do not enter here. We have—”

Marshy’s cry stopped the king short.

The dragonling had begun to paw the air. Her eyelids moved. Her nostrils flared. She scented Marshy. He remained very still. She reached out to him.

The dragonling opened her eyes. They were as green as sunlit sea.

Child and dragon stared at each other, their recognition ancient and powerful.

Teb took Kiri’s hand and they moved away with Flam and the dwarfs, leaving the child and dragonling alone. The cave darkened as two big heads thrust in to see the baby awake. Seastrider’s breath huffed through the cave in smoky whiffs; Windcaller murmured softly; then they withdrew into the snow, their eyes slitted with pleasure.

A feast had been laid out: roast rabbits, broiled mushrooms and roots, a mild amber wine, warm bread, and a fruit called payan that grew in the warm marsh near the volcano. Kiri fixed a bowl for Marshy, but he hardly noticed it. He looked up at Kiri, his face all alight with wonder. “Her name is Iceflower.”

Kiri hugged him. “She’s lovely, Marshy.” The young dragon nuzzled Kiri’s hand. Iceflower’s face was finely sculptured. The pearly hues of her scales caught the colors of the fire. Marshy’s eyes were filled with dreams that now, for the first time, could come true. Kiri kissed him on the forehead and turned away, putting aside her own disquiet.

The food smelled wonderful. She supposed she would feel better once she’d eaten. But she couldn’t get her mind from the dragonlings—was one of those young creatures meant to be her own? She tried to touch the dragonlings in thought as they moved across Yoorthed’s winds, tried hard to sense that subtle bonding that would mark one special dragon. Her thoughts came back to her empty.

She tried to sense her father and Camery, too, but there was no hint of the two bards. Fear for them chilled her—though she knew it was the enemy doing this, the power of the dark clouding their silent speech. She shook her head, tried to marshal her thoughts, and went to sit with Teb.

As they ate, Teb and Kiri told the dwarfs all they could about the war. On the smaller continents, where Teb and the dragons had been able to bring the past alive, slaves had awakened and remembered their own worth, and had risen to kill their dark masters. But that was only on the small continents. Teb and the dragons, alone, had not been a large enough force to take on the big continents where kings had been mind twisted or replaced. Now that Teb had found the other bards, and now that there would be more dragons, their band would have formidable power—but against a formidable enemy.

“If . . .” Kiri began, then stopped, her voice drowned by the thundering voices of dragons. Bards and dwarfs, jumped up and pushed through the cave door into the moonlight.

The night was filled with dragons, rearing and careening as they greeted each other. Nightraider and Starpounder towered blacker than the sky, in a sparring greeting with Seastrider and Windcaller. Crowding around the big dragons were four strapping dragonlings, three dark males and a female.

From inside the cave came a faint, coughing roar, and Iceflower stumbled out behind the dwarfs, with Marshy beside her. The four dragonlings gawked at her and at the little boy.

“Your bard . . .”

“You found your bard.”

“Small . . . he’s so small.”

“Young . . .”

The dragonlings began to nose at Marshy and sniff him all over.

“You’re alive,” said the white sister, nosing at Iceflower. “We’re very glad you’re alive.”

“Not dead like Snowlake,” said the blue-black dragon.

“I nearly was,” said Iceflower.

“We searched for you,” said the red-black. “We had no sense of you. The dark . . .”

“They were still searching when we found them,” Camery said.

“Iceflower was drugged,” Teb said. “A drugged seal.”

Camery reached to stroke the sick dragonling. “Did the dark mean to kill you, young one? Or did it mean to capture you?”

“I suspect to capture and train her,” Teb said, filled with sharp memory of the time when the dark tried to warp his own mind to their evil way.

Camery touched Teb’s cheek and hugged him.

“Did you see any ships?” he said.

“No. The dragonlings saw ships near the otters’ bay at Cekus some weeks ago and felt the terrible power of the dark.”

“Maybe we can send Quazelzeg’s ships to the bottom for the sharks,” Teb said, “before we leave this land.”

Kiri had moved away, by herself. Teb watched her, feeling sharply her disappointment that none of the dragonlings was for her. He followed her and took her hand, and she leaned her forehead against his shoulder.

“There will be other dragons, Kiri.”

“Where? There are no other dragons.”

He lifted her chin. “Once, you thought there were no dragons on Tirror.”

“But . . .”

“There will be other dragons.” He put his arms around her. She eased against him, her spirit filled with sadness, needing him, needing his comforting.

“There will be other dragons. Somewhere, a dragon is calling to you. Don’t you sense it?”

“I sense it. And I’m always disappointed.” She buried her face against his shoulder.

Chapter 6

The unliving take nourishment from our suffering. It is thus that the dark grows strong. They are the dark opposite of human, and all evil feeds them, while all joy and love incites their wrath. They can die, these un-men, as we die. But they can never touch the Graven Light.

*

On the continent of Aquervell, deep in Quazelzeg’s fort-castle, two generals and twelve captains met with their leader in the skull chamber, a windowless stone room deep beneath the earth. The chamber was lighted by candles made of human fat. The walls were damp, the air heavy. Of the fourteen, six were un-men, true creatures of the unliving. Eight were humans warped to the ways of the dark. Only in the eyes of the humans could be seen the defeat they had taken at Dacia.

Quazelzeg watched the group without expression, seeing every flick of an eyelid, every movement of hand and turn of head. He was a tall, heavy figure who seemed not made to bend, with pale, tight skin over his heavy-boned face.

“I expect, Captain Vighert, that the present expedition is going better than the last. Better than your expedition.”

A nerve at the side of Vighert’s left eye twitched.

“I do not want another dragon killed.” Quazelzeg studied Vighert. “I want them captured. I would not want this to happen again. I plan to use these dragons. You would know that, Vighert, if you paid attention. These dragons are very important. Do you understand me?”

Vighert nodded, stiff and reluctant.