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A few hours’ flight convinced him otherwise.
Perhaps if AuRon were more used to flying, he could have out-flown the old dragon, but AuRon’s new muscles barely kept him ahead of NooMoahk’s old ones, after the first burst of the chase shrank the black into a dot as large as a claw. NooMoahk gained steadily after that. AuRon was forced by fatigue to glide more and more frequently to rest his wing muscles. The addled NooMoahk was too old a hunter to give up the chase without a kill at the end of it.
Even darkness, when it came, was not enough; a bright moon lit the dry sky enough for AuRon to see their pair of shadows two score of dragon-lengths below. NooMoahk was even with him, diving for him with jaws agape. Again and again, through a desperate use of his wings, Auron rose in the sky when NooMoahk plunged for him. His body was a long rope of agony, his wings a rack of flame. He did not dare fight NooMoahk on the ground, where the elder dragon’s weight and remaining scales would make the difference, so flight was his only option. But it didn’t have to be a directionless flight—
Below AuRon saw the edge of the desert, a familiar hill or two, one with a mound over the monument well where he had said good-bye to Djer and the Diadem. AuRon steepened his glide and then circled up to bite at his pursuer. He caught a mouthful of tail before folding his wings to dive like a hunting hawk.
NooMoahk roared his outrage and followed. AuRon saw the earth hurtle up to meet him, and in the moonlight made for the tomb of Tindairuss. The black dragon dropped from the sky, perhaps looking to crush the offending fly under him even as he crashed to earth. The wind whistled in AuRon’s ears as he fell more than flew. When the rustless metal became clear in the color-draining moonlight, he opened his wings again—
Not enough. He hit the side of the pole-projection at the top of the tomb with a resounding thump and felt something in his shoulder give way. He grabbed the narrow column, thinner than a young palm, in his rear claws and looked up to see NooMoahk almost atop him, opening his wings to aim rather than stop his plunge.
AuRon leaped from the pole at the last moment. He landed atop the mausoleum at the same moment NooMoahk crashed down; the impact ran through the iron structure like a thunder from the Air Spirit. NooMoahk pivoted to bring his jaws into play, griff clattering against ancient multihorned crest, but he was pinioned. The sharp pole atop the center of the monument ran right through him, a gory needle sticking up from his back. The dragon drew a rattling breath and collapsed.
NooMoahk’s breathing became short and labored, and AuRon could feel his slowing heartbeat through the iron. NooMoahk rolled his head back and forth and scraped ineffectually at the top of the monument with his claws, the fire in his eyes finally smothered. AuRon approached, knocking aside scales that had fallen off the dragon’s body when he hit.
“AuRon, you’ve got your wings at last. You’re a dragon now,” NooMoahk said. Blood stained his teeth black in the moonlight.
“Yes. Do you know where you are?”
“The cave? No, we’re outside. What is this place?”
“You had a lapse. You chased me. We flew, and you hurt yourself landing.”
“I flew? I flew? I thought I was past it,” NooMoahk said, trying to right himself, then falling back with a groan. The black’s mouth turned up at the corners in an oddly human expression: he was smiling. “I’ll never fly again. No pain, but I feel a chill. Are we on metal?”
“It’s like iron. This is the monument the men raised to Tindairuss. He is buried here.”
NooMoahk sniffed at the blood trickling on the metallic surface, keeping in well-rounded pools. “Is that the truth? Or something to comfort a dying dragon?”
“Can you move your neck? Look at the words on the side. You know the script.”
NooMoahk dragged his head across the surface, and with his long neck examined the characters AuRon pointed to with his tail. “I never knew this place existed, or I would have visited it before.” He was silent for a moment, and closed his eyes. Then he opened them again. “AuRon, you’ll see to it. Rest me in the same earth he does. Don’t let some wizard grind my bones.” The eyes shut again. NooMoahk took a last deep breath.
“Yes, my lord. I’ll see it done.”
“Tindairuss, old friend, I come,” NooMoahk wheezed. “We’ll fly to—”
The ancient head, crest crowned with its spread of horns as numerous as a jellyfish’s strands, dropped. AuRon could not hear a heartbeat.
“Beware, Great Spirits, for a dragon has returned to hunt your realms,” AuRon quoted, without knowing the origin of the words. They just came to him. His body felt heavy, and his legs buckled.
Something wetted his eyes, something that even closing and opening his water-lids didn’t remove. AuRon flicked his tongue out, curious for the taste. Salt.
BOOK THREE
Dragon
STRENGTH WITHOUT VISION IS TYRANNY.
VISION WITHOUT STRENGTH, DREAMFUL IMPOTENCE.
BREED THEM, AND THE WORLD IS YOURS.
—Wrimere the Wyrmmaster, Wizard of the Isle of Ice
Chapter 18
The young dragon AuRon flew south after seeing to the burial of his mentor. It was no small job. He wished to do his duty to the ancient dragon, so after some thought, he started work. AuRon’s foua made a pyre of the dead dragon, and with the weight burned off, he placed the bones into a circular burial trench dug into the grassy ground of the hill. NooMoakh’s bones lay in a ring around the tomb of Tindairuss, the last buried tailbone dropped just a claw’s length from the nose. AuRon’s sii claws were dull and tender from days of moving earth, digging until his own blood mixed with the loam around the well.
