AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“AuRel of the line of AuNor and his mate Irelia.” Wistala decided to make her introduction formal, and spoke as Mother taught: “I was first daughter and fourth out of the five eggs.”
“Ah,” Scabia said. “I thought I recognized your wing-points. I knew your mother somewhat. You are how long out of the egg?”
“These thirteen winters.”
“And already wide-winged! I’m amazed.”
Aethleethia extended her long neck and scratched herself under the chin with the claw tip on her loft, and DharSii turned away to inspect a piece of iconography etched on the floor in a manner similar to that ringing the entrance. He brushed away some dust with his tail so that the black glass might shine.
A shadow darkened the splash of outside light and the golden dragon dropped through with wings folded. He opened them again with dramatic suddenness and alighted. “Ah-ha! A visitor!” he trumpeted, folding his wings.
“Ha-hem,” DharSii said, his eyes and nostrils half-closed. “Wistala, you meet the dragonlord of Vesshall, NaStirath.” A certain airiness highlighted the words, but what he meant to imply, if anything, Wistala couldn’t guess, not knowing him well.
“My daughter’s mate,” Scabia added.
NaStirath loosed a short but loud prrum in the general direction of Aethleethia’s place. The lord of Vesshall was a finely formed fellow, long and well fed, not a scar on him or a scale out of place, and he smelled of steam and hot scale, being fresh out of the lake.
He spoke: “Just like you, DharSii, to guide a female over me without an introduction. Don’t tell me you’re finally courting a mate.”
“I hope not!” DharSii said. “Too wide of wing, and her tail is so much longer than her neck.”
The arrogant, two-colored—
“My dear uzhin always gives an honest opinion,” Aethleethia put in. “It startles those who are not much used to him.”
“Ha-hem. I’ll be about my business,” DharSii said. He fluttered his griff, but when Wistala met his eyes, fire bladder pulsing, he looked away. He turned and made for the entrance.
The tap of his claws played off the walls as he crossed the chamber.
“Two visits to the Vesshall from DharSii in one winter,” NaStirath said. “I feel so honored, I’m having a hard time not yawning.”
“Tell us your troubles, dragonelle of AuNor, so that we may comfort you,” Scabia suggested.
“I’m the last of my family,” Wistala said. Was that quite true? The copper still lives, for all you know. “Dwarves of the Wheel of Fire slaughtered them and took from their bodies as trophies. Elves and men were also involved, but I cannot say which for certain. One called the Dragonblade was almost certainly aiding them in the assassination.”
“We’ve heard this before,” NaStirath said, in a bored tone as if to indicate he was not much troubled at the news.
“We are sorry for your loss,” Scabia said, though she was the only dragon in the room that much looked it, for nothing remained of DharSii unless he lurked still in the shadows of the entrance passage. “You may claim a loft here for as long as you like; there are ample to spare.”
“I heard they got CuSanat and his mate, Virtuthia, in their cave as well,” NaStirath said, stretching. “Such a shame we won’t be seeing them again, even if they weren’t exactly uzhin. The Red Mountains are being quite cleared of dragons. Is it bullock again for dinner, or fish?”
Wistala wasn’t sure she was hearing right. Did these fools not realize—?
“We must take vengeance on these assassins!” Wistala blurted.
“I’ve no dead to avenge,” NaStirath said. He climbed into a loft on the other side of Scabia. Odd that he didn’t sit to the side of his mate—
“Be quiet, NaStirath,” Scabia said, pronouncing his name in a way that labeled him still a wingless juvenile. “And have some feeling for our guest’s sorrow.”
“I shall achieve both through a nap, where I will dream awful, sorrowful dreams,” NaStirath said, closing his eyes. “I rejoice in your survival and arrival, Wistala of the line of AuNor.” He twitched his griff as he turned on his side.
Wistala remembered how Father had once caught Auron sleeping on his side, and though her brother was scaleless, punished him with a series of roars that left the hatchling quivering.
“Rest your wings,” Scabia said. “Pick any loft, and wait for your nostrils to waken you.”
Wistala crossed the room to be away from the others and climbed into one of the giant projections. One could arrange one’s body so the head and tail were at almost any height for comfort. She hated Vesshall a little less, and slept.
Her nostrils did wake her, as the blighters brought out huge platters of pan-fried fish and dumped them before the three dragons, with much falling to the knees and arm-waving with palms held toward the dragons. Only the faintest light came down from the circle in the center of the ceiling.
