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“We will always remember you,” Gold-streak told her. It trickled over to Wingstar to climb onto the dragon’s back.
“Badger,” Daine said, tears filling her eyes. “I s’pose you’re done with me, now that I’m grown and know my da and all.”
He thrust a cold, wet nose into the hollow at the base of her throat. She flinched. Even after he backed away, the sense of coldness remained. Touching the spot, the girl felt a chilly metal curve, its base wrapped in silver wire, attached to a chain. Lifting the claw, she saw that it had been cleaned so thoroughly that there was nothing to remind her of the use she’d made of it. “You left that where it might have been lost,” the badger remarked, dark eyes glittering with amusement.
Daine buried her face in his heavy fur, holding him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered, voice cracking. “I’ll never take it off again.”
“I will check on you often, to be sure you keep your promise. You aren’t rid of me so easily, my kit.” Rearing slightly, he nudged the claw with his nose. “Ozorne always underestimated you. It was a lesson he never seemed to learn.”
—Come,— ordered Diamondflame. Kitten was already tucked into the circle of his forepaws and talons, safe within the great dragon’s hold. —Gods annoy me.—
“As dragons annoy us,” snapped the Graveyard Hag. She winked at Daine. “Good to see you again, dearie.”
“I bet,” muttered the girl. Giving the badger a last hug, she climbed onto Diamondflame’s back, tucking her skirts so that she could sit astride the dragon’s neck. She looked at Sarra once more. “Ma? Can you do something for me?”
Sarra came to the dragon’s side. “If I can.”
“Can I see you as the Green Lady? Just once?”
Sarra laughed; Weiryn grinned. Light, gold and soft, gathered around Daine’s ma. She grew taller. A simple green cotton dress, heavily decorated with embroideries in complex designs, fluttered around her body in a wind that Daine couldn’t feel. There was a sheer green veil over Sarra’s face and hair; it too fluttered and moved as if windblown. Looking at her, Daine felt comfort and hope.
“You’re beautiful, Ma,” she said quietly. “I love you.”
Sarra raised her veil. “I love you too, sweet.”
—Stand back,— warned Diamondflame. He opened his great wings, and took flight.
EPILOGUE
When they glided out of the clouds, Port Legann lay below. On the sea, a few ships still burned. Yamani vessels herded those they had captured into the reopened harbor. All around the city the land was tattered, scorched, and frayed. Everywhere lay the dead. Groups roamed the battlefields, gathering the wounded and the dead, giving the death stroke to dying animals, or scavenging weapons and valuables.
On level ground before the north gate, tables had been placed. On one side, Daine saw enemy leaders—nobles of the Copper Isles, Carthaki renegades—well guarded by royal troops. Opposite them were King Jonathan, reunited and handfast with Queen Thayet, Lord Imrah, the Yamani admiral who had commanded the ten ships that had mopped up the enemy fleet, Onua and her big dog Tahoi, and the mage Harailt. Papers were strewn over the wooden tables, and scribes stood by, heating wax for the seals that would be fixed to each document.
Close by his monarchs, Sir Raoul was perched on a camp stool. A healer examined deep cuts in his scalp and left arm as the big knight tried not to flinch. In the distance, Daine saw her Rider friend Evin and Sarge helping to lift the wounded into wagons that would carry them into the city.
Diamondflame landed on a clear space in the battlefield, Wingstar behind him. Freed of her grandfather’s hold, Kitten trotted around to his side, whistling and clucking. Daine looked where her dragonet pointed, and saw a tall, thin, reptilian creature race toward them from the north gate, his tail draped like a train over one long arm. Hard on his heels galloped her small, shaggy gray pony. A broken rope that trailed behind Cloud showed how she had managed to get out of the stables, where she’d stayed since Daine first came to Legann.
Tkaa halted and nodded to the dragons as Daine put her bow and quiver on a nearby tree stump. That done, she threw her arms around Cloud’s neck. In mind speech she told the mare everything that had happened, while Cloud lipped her sleeve.
I’m glad you came back, the mare said when she was done. I don’t have the patience to train a new rider anymore.
Daine laughed, and straightened. “You never had patience with any rider, including me!”
Tahoi beat Onua in the run to greet them. Rearing on his hind legs, the dog planted his paws on Daine’s shoulders and proceeded to wash her face.
“No—no, Tahoi, that’s sweet, but really, I’m practically almost clean!” Holding his paws, Daine backed the dog up until he said that he would be good and not wash her. She released him. He lunged, ran his tongue from her chin to her forehead, then sat, tail pounding the dry earth.
“Very funny,” muttered Daine, and wiped her face.
Onua gave her a quick, tight hug. “Ozorne?” she asked, examining the girl for any sign of injury.
“Dead,” replied Daine, flushing at the memory. “Just as dead as I could make him without dragging him before the Black God myself. Numair?”
“No one knows,” was the quiet reply. “The magic-sign of his duel with Hadensra vanished a while back, but no one’s had a chance to go that way to check on him. What in the name of the Goddess happened? There was a—a sound, and the next instant, at least half of the immortals disappeared from the battlefield. Just—vanished!”
“It’s a long story,” Daine told her friend. “Ask Big Blue to tell it to you.” She pointed to Diamondflame, then grabbed her skirt with one hand and mounted Cloud. “I’m going after Numair.”
—Big Blue?— echoed Kitten’s grandfather. —Hm. An interesting nickname.—
Onua grabbed Cloud’s mane, and was almost bitten for her pains. “Daine, there may be enemy soldiers out that way, still. Wait for a cleanup squad—”
Without needing a word from Daine, Cloud walked over to the tree stump. Daine grabbed her father’s bow and quiver, and smiled at the K’mir. “It isn’t me who has to be wary of them,” she said gently. “They’d best be afraid of me.” She nudged Cloud, who set off at a trot.
She was glad that her mare knew where she wanted to go. Exhaustion, banished temporarily while she wore Gainel’s coat, was gnawing at her. She prayed that her words to Onua weren’t vainglory, and that she’d be able to use her bow if necessary. It would be too embarrassing to have survived all this, only to be cut down by a straggle
r determined to make one last kill before he surrendered or escaped.
Watching where she placed her hooves, Cloud picked her way through bodies and equipment for war. The giant wooden barriers made to deter jumping horses had been pulled aside, opening gaps in their line. Pony and rider passed the wooden towers, now black and crumbling after their encounter with dragonfire, and rode through a break in the low earthen wall.
The ground sloped, leading to the camp beside the river. Here the destruction was complete. Tents and goods had been destroyed, burned, or stolen. The bodies of those who had defended, not run, lay everywhere.
The red-and-black globe of magics had not come from the camp, but from upriver. Daine gripped trembling hands in Cloud’s mane and prayed as they turned right, following the water east.
Deep gashes were torn from the earth. The shallow river was half blocked by stones and what looked like a yard-long bank of earth-colored glass. Already the water was carving a new path around the obstruction. Steam drifted in the hollows under the trees.
“Whoever you are, if you’re here to kill me, you’ll need to do it while I remain prone,” a familiar voice said nearby. “Have the decency to be quick about it, so I can get back to my rest.”
Daine tumbled off Cloud’s back, trying to see where he was. “What I’ve got in mind isn’t near so quick as killing!”
There was a long silence; her heart twisted within her chest. Then she heard a cracked whisper: “Daine?” Under the long, drooping branches of a nearby willow, a dark figure lurched to its feet.
She ran to Numair, slamming into him with enough force to drive him back against the willow’s trunk. “That hurt,” he gasped. Before she could apologize, he was kissing her nose, her cheeks, her forehead, her lips. She kissed him back. They came up for air, then kissed again, their hands checking each other’s bodies, for serious injury as well as simply for the joy of touch.
They came up for air several more times before they had calmed down enough to let each other go—although Numair kept his grip on Daine’s hands. “Will you marry me?”
