“Riders sometimes call dragons chieftain or chieftess, per our conventions among our tribes, but I’ve heard gardeners use lady or lord or even king or queen, though dragons don’t have royalty. They’re hierarchical, yes, but it’s all about who’s strongest and defeats others in battles. I’ve heard, and can see from her scars, that Wreylith has survived a lot of battles and defeated many challengers.” Vorik waved toward the female.
That is so, Wreylith said.
She slew the pompous but powerful Bisarak the Starchaser just last year, Agrevlari said.
Yes.Wreylith made the telepathic statements matter-of-factly, without the pomposity that so many dragons that bonded with riders had.
Vorik, who almost considered it a hereditary dragon trait, regarded her curiously. “Whatever you use, Your Highness, I wouldn’t shorten it or make it flippant.”
“Princesses are never flippant. And did you mean my people when you saidgardener?” Syla touched her chest. “Or… actual gardeners? Like farmers?”
“It’s our term for your people,” Vorik said, surprised she hadn’t heard it before. It was a logical term, after all, since they called this the Garden Kingdom.
“Because we’re so heavily agricultural?” Syla guessed.
“That’s right.” Vorik didn’t mention that it had negative connotations among the stormers and implied people who were too soft and civilized to survive beyond their sky shields. Since he was, even at that moment, enjoying berries that some gardener must have planted once, he couldn’t feel too superior to her people. If there were other areas in the world where such delectables grew without being destroyed by storms, eaten by birds and animals, or surrounded by poisonous plants… he might have gardened too. At least when he wasn’t busy flying, fighting, and hunting.
Wreylith hopped down from the lighthouse, the drop not fazing a dragon in the least, though she did land mostly on three legs, favoring her right forelimb.This is what I require healed.
She lifted that limb toward them, and Syla jumped when the dragon extended her talons, the moonlight gleaming off them. With the deadly appendage so close, Vorik twitched too. Wreylithwasa formidable dragon, and he had no idea how to read her moods. She was reputedly mercurial. At the least, if she was like most dragons, she would grow extra savage and deadly when she lost her temper. Dragons had been known to fight with each other to the death simply because one woke up grumpy.
Despite being startled, Syla didn’t skitter back from the extended foot, the glinting talons. She walked forward to investigate the injury but shook her head.
“It’s a little dark for me to see the problem, I’m afraid.” She looked around as if a lantern might be waiting in the grass.
Vorik was disappointed that he couldn’t provide one for her. Since his night vision was keen, he never bothered traveling with such items, but he would have to do her a lot more favors if he intended to gain her trust. Yes, he’d kept her from splatting on the ground, but, if she was like other women, she might appreciate it more if he could help her with the small things.
Wreylith’s maw parted, and Syla stiffened. Vorik steppedforward, his hand going to his sword in case he needed to protect the princess.
But a touch of magic flowed from the dragon, and only the smallest ball of fire rolled up her gullet and out of her maw. It drifted through the air until it floated to the side of Syla’s head, illuminating Wreylith’s foot as well as the lush green grass and a few boulders littered around the area.
Heat as well as light emanated from the sphere, and Syla eyed it with concern. Since numerous of her people had been slain by dragon fire, Vorik suspected she was thinking of that.
He shook his head bleakly, well aware that he and the riders had been behind that. He feared there was too much between them for him to win her trust in any capacity. Jhiton had asked too much.
If you ever raise a blade to a dragon,Wreylith told Vorik, having noticed his grip on his sword,it’ll be the last motion you ever make.
“I’ve raised my blade to fight many dragons.” Vorik had always done so from astride Agrevlari’s back, but he knew better than to be meek in front of their kind, so he didn’t admit that. Nor did he yank his hand away from the hilt, though he realized Wreylith had never intended to hurt the princess. “I yet live,” he added.
They must have been extremely runty dragons.
“Well, certainly. I would be a fool to challenge apowerfuldragon.”
What a strange human you are. Healer.Wreylith focused on Syla again and flexed her talons.
What looked like a giant thorn was embedded in the flesh of her foot. Or maybe that was a fang that had come away after something had bitten her? She must have incinerated whatever creature had been so foolish as to bite a dragon.
“Yes, I see now.” Syla turned her full attention to it. “You said you tangled with a basilisk?”
Yes. While I battled another foe, I stepped upon the lair of a giantblue basilisk. Usually, their venomous fangs cannotpierce a dragon’s scales, but this one lucked upon a less armored spot.Wreylith glared at the maligned foot and bared her own fangs in displeasure.
And maybe in pain? From what Vorik knew of basilisk fangs, which were designed to come off and quickly grow back afterward, they could keep oozing their venom into the bloodstream of their target for hours or even days afterward. And that venom was potent enough to kill even large creatures. If not for a dragon’s inherent magic, Wreylith might have died from the wound.
“Let me… see what I can do.” Judging from the way Syla wiped her palms on her dress, she remained nervous.
Vorik didn’t blame her. “Have you healed anything besides humans before?”
“Yes.” She nodded and approached the injured foot but also whispered, “Cats, dogs, and horses. And a gerbil.”
