Blood of Dragons

Rapskal cocked his head. He appeared to listen for a time, then took a breath and looked around with confidence. ‘IceFyre has finished drinking. He believes he will soon be fully recovered. And the others have decided to take Tintaglia’s advice. Strike at their main city, where their duke rules. Remind them that dragons are not river pigs to be slaughtered as they wish, but the Lords of the Three Realms, Earth, Sea and Sky.’ He looked at Tats and said in a voice that was more Rapskal’s than Tellator’s, ‘Tats, will you ride beside me?’

Tats hesitated, looked at Thymara and clasped her hand tightly for a moment before he let go of it. ‘I can’t let you go alone, my friend. I’ll go with you.’

The dragon doors to the baths swung open and Kalo sauntered out. He looked fresh from the baths, but a strand of gut still dangled from the side of his mouth. Thymara reflected that for all their superior claims, not one of the dragons could groom well without a keeper’s aid.

‘Davvie!’ the immense blue-black dragon bellowed. ‘Davvie, fetch harness for me. We fly tomorrow at dawn.’

Davvie stepped forward, eluding Carson’s reaching hand. His eyes were wide but he did not seem altogether unwilling as he objected, ‘Kalo, we cannot be ready that fast. There are weapons to repair, and so much to learn.’

The dragon snorted disdainfully. ‘Begin now and you will be ready when I summon you. Those who come with us will learn on the way. IceFyre has drunk from the Silver. He is recovering swiftly. Once he has hunted and eaten, we will take vengeance to the Duke of Chalced. I fly with him. Ready yourself or do not, as you please. This is dragons’ business. We fly at dawn.’

Davvie stared at him. ‘I thought you were going hunting after you bathed …’ he objected weakly.

‘I am fed well enough for now. To the armoury and quickly. I wish to be first to make a choice of the colours there.’ With a fine disregard for his keeper, Kalo strode away.

Sintara watched the others as IceFyre drank from the Silver well. Tintaglia eyed the black dragon speculatively, as if measuring him against the other males. He was definitely larger than the others but she knew that was not the best criterion in selecting a mate. She lifted her eyes and looked back toward the baths, watching for Kalo. Sintara copied the older female and compared him to Sestican and then looked at Mercor. High summer was the time for mating, but it was never too soon to assess one’s choices.

IceFyre lifted his head at last. His muzzle dripped Silver in languid drops. He stepped away from the well, stretched and then sprawled out on the paving stones. He curled his head and his tail toward the centre of his body, and was abruptly asleep. Mercor advanced a step toward him and sniffed the air around him. ‘He was sickened but he will recover, and quickly,’ the golden dragon announced.

He looked around at the others. Sintara tried to remember the last time they had all gathered in a group. Even when they had been on the other side of the river, they had seldom convened. Cassarick, she thought. Back in the days before we were true dragons. When we were caught at the edge of the river, living in mud, feeding on carrion. Then Mercor had rallied them and together they had concocted the plan that would persuade the humans to help them find Kelsingra. They had thought they were lying when they hinted at a storehouse of Elderling wealth in Kelsingra. Little had they realized that, to humans, the whole city was a vast treasure.

She thought of the days and distance they had travelled, the changes they had undergone. They had made their keepers into Elderlings, learned to feed themselves, to fly and to hunt. They had become dragons. And tomorrow?

‘We go to battle against humans,’ Mercor said gravely. ‘Truly, there is no choice.’ He looked at Tintaglia. ‘You have done this before?’

She gazed at him oddly. ‘I have, and in my own life. But dragons have all done this before and more than once. You have no memories of this?’

Sintara kept silent. She possessed no such memories. Mercor was thoughtful for a time, his eyes whirling as if he spun his way back through years and lives. ‘A few,’ he conceded. ‘But our memories are incomplete. We were too short a time in our cases, and you were but one dragon spread among many serpents when you helped us to spin them. You did what you could, but we are not dragons as you and IceFyre are. And our Elderlings are not as you recall them. They are newly made, and still discovering the memories of those who went before them. They will not know how to fight, or how to aid us in fighting.’ He looked at her gravely and asked, ‘How dangerous is it to make war on humans? To ourselves and to our keepers?’