AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Perhaps.”
“If I wished to reach the lands of Ghioz in secret, could I do it with dragons? I have examined the maps of the Norflow. It seems to me it runs right under Ghioz lands.”
Paskinix shut his eyes in thought.
“It does. It does at that. But why not fly?”
“My dragons cannot get near her capital because of those roc patrols,” the Copper said. Paskinix clucked in confusion. “Great birds, bigger than our griffaran. They can outfly and outfight dragons in the air. She would have two days’ warning, at least. If I could cut that down to two hours—”
“Getting there is not the problem. Reaching the surface is. But if I had a dragon or two instead of just my warriors—”
“You might get your sun-mines back.”
“I could refuse.”
“Gigrix could just as easily lead your people. I’ve consulted him on the matter already, and he is drawing us a map.”
“Then why not just kill me?”
“You fought the Firemaids and the Aerial Host to a standstill for years, with numbers less than a quarter of what we believed you to have, if the talks with your general have led the Anklenes to the correct conclusion. I would be mad to kill such a resourceful warrior.”
“Tyr RuGaard—your dragons said you were unlike any Tyr since FeHazathant. I am beginning to understand their opinion.”
“Thank you. But I warn you, praise in the Lavadome often comes before the bite.”
“My Tyr, I saw many deman skulls about the entrance to your fine towering rock. I’ve no wish to see mine displayed in a place of prominence, especially with such a meal as you’ve fed me dissolving so pleasantly within.” He belched. “My compliments to your cook. It’s been long since I ate flesh flavored with anything but the tears of the meal’s friends and family.”
Chapter 21
The courier dragonelle’s arrival on the Isle of Ice set all the dragons to talking and arguing. Yefkoa spoke of a time of decision for the dragons.
And of their Tyr, a prophet who would lead them all into the bright sun of a new age.
For such a young dragonelle, she spoke well, fearless in the face of strangers.
War in the south—a lost kingdom of dragons—Ironriders on stout horses with big, hearty livers—dragonelles and drakka dying in battle.
The population of the Isle of Ice was mostly female, and their sympathies naturally ran to the dragonelles fighting for their lives. She painted pictures with her words and the dragons began to stamp and roar in agreement.
Save for AuRon. Wistala had joined with the Copper and had flown herself into this scrape. She would have to fly herself out.
“Is the isle flying to the aid of the dragons, Father?” Varatheela asked, her hindquarters dancing.
“Did I ever tell you how I came to be in that cargo hold?” Natasatch asked AuRon.
“Not willingly. I asked you once about it, I recall. You said you were captured while hunting.”
“That was true—after a fashion.”
“Tell me,” AuRon said.
“I was a few weeks from my first trip aboveground,” she said, toying with a dry shard of one of their hatchlings’ eggs she’d kept as a piece of memory.
“We did not have a large cave, but there was a long tunnel leading to the surface. I liked to explore the tunnel, at least the dragonlength or two near the mouth of the egg-cave. To me, that was like going aboveground. I was exploring, when suddenly I saw a pair of legs walking past me.
“Before I knew it I had a sword-point before my eye. The elf offered me a choice, speaking Drakine. Silence or death. I was at the high end of the egg-cave. My voice would have carried had I screamed. The family might have been saved. I tried to scream. I decided on it. But the sound never came. I was frozen. I bought my own life with their death.”
“That elf—was it the one from the boat? Hazeleye?”
