AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Wistala watched the Gray Vex disappear with Father. “Auron’s crest must be made of gold, the way you favor him,” Wistala said to Mother.
“Don’t whine, Tala,” she said. “You and your sister have a whole horse to share. That’s ten times a man or more.” Mother had already consumed hers, and was licking the last runnels of blood from her teeth and lip-line. She sighed, and her golden eyes brightened. “Eat those metal rings from the saddle. They’re good for you.”
“I’d rather be hunting that man,” Wistala said.
“You’ll be hunting on your own soon enough,” Mother replied. “Practice on slugs.”
“They’re a bore. Tell us more of the Upper World,” Wistala said. “Fish leaping at waterfalls!”
“I want to hear about Father’s mating song again,” Jizara said. Jizara liked to imitate the tunes, and even Auron admitted that she had a gift for song. “Did he really cause an avalanche?”
Mother’s stories always entertained. She mixed words and pictures and sense-memory so skillfully, Wistala felt as though she were living it.
“No, you shall have a lesson.”
Both sisters drooped at that. Lessons came only through Mother’s words, and one had to form one’s own imagery and sensations. Learning about The Hatchling Who Cried “Dwarf ” or The Geese That Saved the Seven-Egg Clutch couldn’t compare.
“Since you’ve both seen and smelled a man today, I’ll tell you about the Great Betrayal. A man had a hand in that.”
Jizara closed a nostril at Wistala. She stifled a snort and tried to clear her thoughts so she might summon her own mind-pictures.
“As you know, the Age of Dreams ended when the ravenous Blighters appeared. The Four Great Spirits of Earth, Air, Water, and Fire each gave a gift to Dragons to make them supreme over the Upper and within the Lower Worlds to tame the foul Blighters. But while fighting over their reward for this deed, they created the Dwarves, Elves, and Men who now come to kill us. Men are the worst. Men, who breed so fast that a single female in a dragon’s lifetime can produce a nation, like a small rock falling from a mountain’s height can knock two that send six rolling that create a landslide. All of that horde seek to kill us.
“But it wasn’t always so.
“For a time, the hominid races were just as terrified of us as the blighters were. Now back in the Age of Sky-Kings, all blighters did was grovel and worship before dragons, but the other hominids helped the dragons build great palaces and towers. The greatest dragon hall of all the kingdoms was Silverhigh, built out of leftover pieces from the creation of the Moon, so white it shone night and day.
“Now the Dragons of Silverhigh were oh-so-pleased with themselves to be living in such glorious palaces. The older, battle-scarred dragons who remembered taming the blighters and cowing the men, elves, and dwarves became fewer and fewer. Their hatchlings grew up thinking the luxuries Silverhigh offered were theirs on account of their being born such fine fellows, forgetting that anything worth the having is worth the effort. They painted their scales and wings in magnificent designs but hardly ever flew anywhere with them, as there was no finer place in the world than Silverhigh.
“Flying off to fight battles and so on does interfere with stuffing oneself with grain-fattened swine and golden coins brought in tribute. So the later Dragon Kings of Silverhigh looked for someone else to do their fighting for them.
“Blighters are quarrelsome, and only a skilled leader can unite them. Dwarves, though resolute fighters, are stumpy and slow moving, and are not given to taking orders without a good deal of back-talk and complaining, and only by the harshest measure can they be cowed for a brief time. Elves, though dragonlike in their intelligence, will stop in the middle of a campaign to feast and sing and praise each other for deeds they’ve still to do, and forget about battle altogether. But men are easily trained and pop out young like heated corncobs, so they are well-suited to fill armies.
“Thus the Dragons of Silverhigh trained a grand army of men to go and do their fighting. This gave them even more time for play.
“Now there was one man who was particularly useful to the Dragons of Silverhigh. His name was Prymelete, and he was not a famous warrior or a great builder or even a man skilled at bringing delectables from near and far to tempt dragon appetites. Prymelete was a soothsayer. He praised the Dragons of Silverhigh even more than they did each other. Many a high vault and gold-walled nesting chamber saw his presence, as he read flattering oracles predicting future greatness.
“Prymelete’s tongue arts admitted him to the deepest councils of the Silverhigh Dragons, places no famous warrior, great builder, or clever trader were allowed. They even gave him a seat at the Firepit. Now I’m told the most renowned of the Silverhigh Dragons spat fire into the Firepit when making judgments and rules to show their mind had been made up. So much dragonfire went into the Firepit that it burned night and day. Of course, Prymelete outdid himself with praise for the dragons who met around the Firepit; his tongue left them so muddle-headed, they didn’t know tailvent from nostril.
“Then one day Prymelete lingered, watching the fire after the dragons left. He took from his vast cloak a thick steel vessel such as human warriors wear on their heads and dipped it in the dragonfire. Then he ran like a hoard-filch. He left Silverhigh and went to a dark council of men, elves, and dwarves, carrying his dragonfire.
“The dragonfire had cooled by the time he met this evil gathering, and he filled the wine cups of the hominids assembled there. They all drank from it, and it put dragonfire into their hearts that made them brave enough to challenge the dragons. The hominids marched on Silverhigh and threw down its perches and vaults and galleries, and suffocated its deeps and wells and chambers.”
“Why didn’t the dragons fight?” Wistala asked.
“Some say it is because they’d forgotten how,” Mother answered. “Others say Prymelete returned from his trip and put more folly in their heads, pronounced doom and despair at the approach of warlike men, elves, and dwarves, so that they did not go and fight with the parts of their grand army of men who remained loyal to their oaths. Then when the abandoned men were destroyed, Prymelete redoubled his predictions of disaster. The dragons were so used to abiding by the soothsayings of Prymelete that they panicked and fled, or hid in deep holes to be hunted and killed one by one.”
“What happened to wicked Prymelete?” Jizara asked.
“There are different stories, but I shall tell you this one: Other dragons from the far side of the world heard about the destruction of Silverhigh and came to seek after their relatives. Finding them slaughtered, they learned the story from some blighters and sought out Prymelete. Since he places himself above dragons, they took him to a high mountain and hung him there by his fine girdle to be pecked at by the great carrion birds who ride the winds of the thin-air heights. When his body fell apart and went down the mountainside, they brought the bones back to the high ledge to give the carrion birds another meal, and there they sit, cold and exposed.”
“Tales and terrors, that’s a horrible story, Mother,” Jizara said. “Dragons hunted and killed in their own homes. I’m scared.”
“I tell it to you so you will always be on your guard. Ever since that awful day, the hominids have had fire in their hearts to kill dragons. And so it will be until the happy day, as my mother used to say, when all the hominids kill each other off and the dragons may return from hiding. But I fear that day is far, far off. That is why I’m always listening.”
Chapter 4
If you’re patient enough, and keep still, out of sight and smell, the prey will feed itself right up to you.
