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The slings touched the ground; their porters dropped the ropes. Daine landed with a gentle thump, untangled herself, then lurched to her feet. She was stiff all over. Numair, too, winced as he straightened.
Barzha, Hebakh, and Rikash landed in front of them, while the other Stormwings remained aloft. “Our debt to you is paid,” the queen informed them. “We are going now. If the dragons are unhappy with your presence, we prefer not to be nearby.”
“Thank you,” Daine said. “If you see Ozorne before we do, give him our regards.”
Barzha and Hebakh nodded and took flight, the rest of the flock behind them. Rikash gently tapped Daine’s arm, then Numair’s, with his wing. “Be polite to the dragons, and watch your step.” He leaped into the air, and soon caught up with his brethren.
Girl and mage surveyed the fiery curtain, standing well back from a heat that made them sweat. “Now what?” Daine asked her companion.
A voice chimed in the air around them. “Go away, mortals. You will not be admitted to the Dragonlands. We wish to know none of your kind.”
“On the contrary,” Numair said, voice mild. “One dragon knows a great deal of us. My companion is the guardian of the dragonet Skysong.”
“The true guardian of a dragon is brave. You are shrinking, cautious beings.”
“Oh, really.” Daine stalked toward the curtain, feeling its heat grow to unbearable levels. Just when she thought she might scream with pain, she was through a hair’s breadth of fire. On the other side of the portal lay rolling, sunny hills.
Numair burst through the gate behind her, glistening with sweat and gasping. Before Daine realized what he was doing, he’d dropped his staff and grabbed her by the shoulders. “Don’t you ever—ever—frighten me that way again!” He shook her for punctuation, then wrapped his arms around her so tightly that she thought she might just pop. “Ever,” he added, and kissed her thoroughly before releasing her.
“I don’t know,” she said impishly, smiling up at him. “I like this particular kind of tantrum. Besides—at least now they know we’re brave enough.”
“Speak for yourself,” the mage said weakly, fumbling for his handkerchief. He wiped his face with hands that still trembled.
“The darkings?” asked Daine, suddenly worried. “What if they—?”
The darkings popped their heads out of their hiding places. Jelly had dropped inside Numair’s shirt. Leaf had trickled into Daine’s belt purse.
“Warm,” Leaf told them. “Fun.”
Nervously Jelly crept up to Numair’s shoulder. “I know it wasn’t fun for you,” the mage said comfortingly, stroking the darking with a finger.
The darking stretched until it could look Numair in the face, if it had possessed eyes. “Fine now,” it assured him. “Get stick.” Grinning, Numair picked up his staff.
“Wait,” the portal’s voice instructed. “Guides will come for you.”
EIGHT
DRAGONLANDS
Some time later, Leaf tugged one of Daine’s curls, pointing at two creatures who trotted toward them. Like Kitten, they had long, reptilian snouts, slender paws like hands, and colorful scales. They were also like Daine’s friend in that they were young dragons—the wings on their backs were tiny, incapable of bearing them in flight.
The smaller one reached them first. Snow white in color, it had black, shoe-button eyes. It was four feet long from head to rump, with an extra two feet of tail. Its companion was as tall as Daine, with steel gray and black scales intermixed. Unlike the white dragon, this one was more sedate, and walked with slow, deliberate steps.
—We’re to take you to our grandsire,—the white dragon told them, speaking to their minds, not their ears. —You’re the first mortals we’ve ever seen. It’s very exciting! I’m Icefall, only the elders call me Scamp. My cousin—well, she’s really a third cousin twice removed—her name is Steelsings, only I call her Grizzle because she’s so old.—
—Welcome to the Dragonlands,— said Grizzle, mind voice grave. —Ignore Scamp. She has only two centuries. She doesn’t know very much.—
—You’ve only one more century than me!— accused Scamp. —You don’t have your wings yet either!—
Numair hid a smile behind one hand. Daine sighed. Perhaps it was just as well that Kitten still could not speak mind to mind, if all young dragons chattered.
—Children should be seen, not heard.— Grizzle cuffed Scamp, then looked at Daine and Numair. —Follow us, please.—
She led the way with composure. Scamp frolicked around them, asking questions nonstop, in spite of Grizzle’s frequent orders to leave their guests alone. Scamp was convinced that humans spent their time fighting, and—sadly, Daine thought—she knew enough of the present state of things that it was hard to persuade her otherwise. Finally, Leaf stuck its head out of Daine’s shirt and chittered angrily at her. The shock was so great that Scamp actually held her tongue for a moment before pelting them with questions about darkings.
“Is your grandfather the, um, king?” the mage asked as they turned downhill to walk beside a deep stream.
—King?— asked Scamp, distracted from her pursuit of a butterfly. —What’s a king?—
—They rule mortals,— Grizzle replied smugly. —The male ones, that is. The female rulers are queens.—
—Oh,— was Scamp’s comment. —But you’d always have to change them, wouldn’t you? Since they’re always dying?—
Daine bit her lip to keep from grinning. “It’s true,” she said gravely when she’d gotten herself under control. “Mortals must forever change leaders because they die. That’s why we’re called mortals.”
—I wouldn’t like to be mortal,— Scamp remarked wisely. —Uncle Moonwind has been teaching me about mortality. It sounds uncomfortable.—
—He’s not really
our uncle,— said Grizzle. —Just like Grandsire isn’t our grandfather, exactly. He’s our great-great-great- . . . I don’t remember how many greats. There are a lot of them. Grandfather. He’s the oldest—
—No,— interrupted Scamp. —Moonwind, Rainbow, and Cometfern are older.—
—He’s the biggest . . . Now what are you looking at?— demanded the older dragon: Scamp was staring at the sky. When she did not answer, Grizzle looked up. —Uh-oh.—
An enormous blue-green shape crested the winds over a hill. Regally it glided toward them on huge, bat-like wings boned in silver.
“Is there a problem?” asked Numair. Daine saw that both dragons’ scales bristled.
—It’s Jewelclaw,— replied Grizzle. —He’s not very nice.—
—He can’t do anything,— Scamp told them, but she trembled. Waves of pink, the color that Kitten turned at those rare times when she was afraid, washed over her body. Grizzle, too, had acquired a rosy tinge, harder to see against her darker scales. —They’re here to see Grandsire, not him.—
The mature dragon lit on the ground and advanced, wings half extended. Until now, the only adult dragon that Daine and Numair had seen was Kitten’s mother, a young female who had measured twenty feet from nose to hindquarters. This dragon was nearly forty feet long, with a tail that was half again as long as he was. His scales were a deep, almost glowing shade of blue-green on his back, then emerald green on his belly. Like other dragons, this one had silver talons and teeth, in addition to the silver bones that gleamed inside the delicate hide of his wings. His eyes, emerald around slit pupils like a cat’s, were cold indeed. Sparks and threads of a fire similar to lightning jumped over his scales; his head crest was raised.
—Who let mortals into the Dragonlands?— His voice was a roar in Daine’s mind. —You two will find this to be far more serious than your usual pranks!— He bridled, scales ruffling. The grass under his talons began to scorch.
Grizzle jumped between Jewelclaw and the humans. —You can’t touch them!— she cried. She was now an eye-smarting shade of pink, with no trace of gray, but she stood her ground. Scamp, also entirely pink, scrambled to stand next to her. Tiny sparks flared on both youngsters. —They are under Grandsire’s protection.—
