A Shard of Sun (14 page)

Kjorn’s tail flicked against the grass. “It is. With your leave, I’ll search your lands and make no trouble here.”

The elders muttered among themselves and the priestess fanned her wings to silence them. She folded them neatly on her back again and considered. For a moment, her dignity and strength reminded Kjorn of Shard’s mother, Ragna, the Widow Queen. It gave him some hope, for Ragna was a force to reckon with. She was only recently an ally, but a strong one.

“Very well. You have our blessing to pass through this land.”

The wind rushed across their backs and bent the grass into shimmering waves. Kjorn shivered at the sensation, then became aware that more Vanhar had crept through the grass to spy on the gathering. Young warriors, older mated parents, fledges—dozens of gryfon eyes gleamed in the last light, watching him, watching the elders.

“Thank you,” Kjorn said, his hackle feathers prickling as if something watched him from behind. He resisted the urge to look over his shoulder toward the water.

“You don’t know this land well.” The priestess cast a look over her shoulder, lifting her wings once again as if to encompass all of the Vanhar who stood behind her. “If there are any who wish to aide the prince in his quest, you have my leave.”

A few whispers twittered through the grass.

Nilsine stepped forward from those gathered. “I will help him. I will, and any from my sentries who wish.”

Kjorn tried to read her reserved expression, wondered at her reasons, and noted the priestess’s look of approval. He dipped his head. “Thank you.”

The priestess raised her voice once again, addressing Kjorn. “Hunt, if you need to. Rest where you will.” A deeper, keen look came into her eyes as she watched him. “Do no harm, and none will come to you.”

Kjorn felt a sensation as of warmth on his wings, but now the air was still, the sun lowering enough to allow the cold of night. “Thank you,” he murmured again, the only response he could make.

“You have our welcome,” said the priestess. “We shall watch with great interest what will happen, now that the line of Kajar has returned to the Winderost.”

H
IGH, THIN NIGHT AIR
sucked every breath from Shard’s throat. Stars embraced their flight like thousands of distant torches of white fire. That high, the icy ocean below appeared to be only another distant sky, calm and flat with reflected stars.

Shard shook his head, breathing slowly, and looked over to Hikaru. The dragon, now seven times Shard’s length from nose to tail, soared alongside him. Free to eat his fill, he seemed to grow as Shard took breath.

It had been Hikaru’s idea to fly higher, to cover the leagues faster, and despite his shortness of breath, Shard had to agree. But he saw the dragon’s head nod.

“Hikaru.”

The dragon flapped his wings once, almost invisible in the dark but for the edges picked out in the starlight, and for the budding silver horns and mane.

“Hikaru!”

“I’m here.” He shook his head, Shard heard him gasp. “I’m awake. There’s ice on the water. Shard, look, ice!”

“Ice in the air, too,” Shard said, breathing deeply again. He had trained himself to high flying, challenging himself always, but he watched Hikaru as sharply as a falcon minded its eggs. He’d taught Hikaru the dynamic soaring flight of seabirds that he’d learned from an albatross named Windwalker, but once mastered, Hikaru had tired of it and insisted on high flight. Now he often drifted in and out of attention, and occasionally dipped in flight so Shard had to slap him awake. “I fear a storm,” Shard said loudly to get Hikaru’s attention.

“No, it means we’re close!” Hikaru scanned the dark horizon eagerly, as if land and friendly dragons and the answers to all their troubles perched just beyond the waves. “We may even see the shore by dawn!”

Hikaru looked up then, at the stars, naming them quietly to himself. Shard kept an eye on the dragon’s wings, on his forepaws tucked alertly to his chest, not drooping. “We must keep following Midragur,” Hikaru said. “That will lead us. I know it will.”

“I believe you. Hikaru, we should save our breath for now.”

Below, clouds piled in slowly from the dawnward quarter. If Shard and Hikaru maintained their current height, the storm posed no threat and they could fly over, above it all, if their strength held out. Shard suppressed a shiver at the memory of his last storm at sea.

“I’m hungry,” Hikaru announced, and without leave, turned and dove.

“Hikaru! Hikaru, slowly!” Shard shook his head, gasping a breath, and folded his wings to dive. He readied himself for the warmer air, the richer breath, timed his breathing, streamlined his wings to the freezing wind in his face. Hikaru flew well enough, but seemed more eager to get to the places he was going than to perfect his flight. Shard feared for him.

“Hikaru!”

Young, rolling laughter answered him, and Hikaru shot down like a falling star. The first layer of denser air was a relief, a shock, and Shard saw the dragon’s wings falter. Like surfacing from deep water, diving too fast posed its own dangers for the novice fledgling.

Fledgling,
Shard scolded himself.
He’s only a fledgling. I should’ve kept him closer, shouldn’t have agreed to this high flight.

Shard saw the moment when the wind stalled the dragon’s wings—he’d never had so much room to gain speed, never felt the air stall against him.

“Hikaru straighten out! Slow down!”

He saw Hikaru try, lashing his long body to flare, but throwing himself off balance instead. Chest aching, Shard plummeted, hoping to catch him and force him into a flare. The ocean shimmered before him, reflected stars spinning in dizzying array, and he narrowed his focus to the shadow that was Hikaru. Shard knew panic, knew what it was when the world tilted and it was impossible to sort out.

“Use your tail to straighten out! I’m above you, ocean below! Point your nose to the horizon—”

As Shard yelled, he saw Hikaru following his instructions. Relieved, he called encouragement, pushing open his wings a little to slow his own dive. With an awkward, final thrash Hikaru pulled out of the dive, straightening into a glide.

Shard swooped down alongside him and slapped talons against his tail with a hiss. “Never do that again! Do you understand me?”

Hikaru laughed breathlessly. “I had to try it. You told me about all the diving you’ve done, and I wanted to try.”

Shard clenched his talons. “I understand, believe me. And…” He forced himself to calm down, to not act like a mother ptarmigan. They were both fine, after all, and Hikaru had corrected in plenty of time. A wind picked up and the waves sparkled, now only the width of ten gryfon leaps below them. “You did well. You were very brave, and you did just fine.”

Hikaru’s eyes shone with pride. “Thank you.”

“Just remember, I’ve been flying for many more years than you, and I’d been flying for many years before I ever tried diving into the sea from such a height.”

“I know.” Hikaru looked over at him. “But I have a much shorter time to practice.”

Shard huffed a breath, and could not answer that.
By this time next year, he will be gone from the world. From my world.

The thought was enough to make him cringe that he’d scolded the young dragon at all.

The wet, frozen scent of snow filled the air. After a moment he managed to answer Hikaru’s trusting stare. “You did well. I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Shard. That means everything to me.” Dragon teeth gleamed in the star light. “Though I am still hungry.”

Shard eyed the storm clouds rushing in. “We may have to wait. It’s safer if we go high again, until the storm has passed.”

“But you’ve flown in a storm, you told me!”

“Not by choice. And I escaped it by flying out, remember?”

“I have to eat,” Hikaru declared, a growl coming into his voice, “or I shall fall out of the sky.”

“Hikaru—”

Hikaru’s gaze darted over Shard and, perhaps realizing Shard couldn’t stop him, he spiraled lower toward the waves. Indignity and surprise were a waste of time, Shard supposed, in the face of a hungry young dragon. He angled his wings to follow, keeping his gaze on the storm as Hikaru hunted for fish. Relieved that he seemed to be finding them, if only small ones, Shard relaxed a little.

Hikaru’s earlier observation had been correct. Thin, small islands of ice floated around them. Shard watched alternately as Hikaru dove beneath the waves, stopping Shard’s heart until he emerged again and either slithered onto an ice floe to eat his catch, or break out of the waves to fly up again.

“You’re doing really well,” Shard forced himself to call. “I couldn’t do that when I was your age.”

Whatever his age is.
Shard could only compare him to a gryfon by his skill and his range of thinking. A fledge of two or three, at best, and how soon would it be until he seemed to be Shard’s age, and older, like Amaratsu?

Shard’s own belly snarled in protest at watching someone else eat all the fish. Before he could dive, Hikaru swooped up before him, offering a fresh, wriggling herring.

“Thank you.” Shard clenched the fish, flight dipping with the weight of it. Hikaru met his eyes silently and dipped his head. By no means an apology, but Shard remembered what it was to be challenged by an adult as a fledge, the frustration of being told what to do, and let him go again.

The wind picked at the waves and they rose, choppy and large, scattering the reflection of the sky. Clouds covered the true sky, scattering the true stars and turning the ocean black and unfathomable. Shard could barely see his charge. He thought Hikaru had perched on an ice floe to eat, but it was hard to tell in the muddy dark.

He finished as much of the fish as he could, thanked its spirit, and tossed the bones into the water. Squinting, he knew for sure he saw the black dragon clinging to an ice floe, hunched over the water. “Hikaru! We should go.”

Hikaru didn’t move.

“
Hikaru.
” Shard’s voice bounced over the waves, his patience snapping. “Now!”

“Shard, there are creatures!” He sounded breathless, not angry or petulant, but breathless with glee. “Shard, huge creatures under the water! What are they? I can see them easily as I can see you.”

Shard strained for patience as the first drops of sleet hit his face. “Hikaru, that’s wonderful. I have no doubt you’ll see in the dark, and through water, and even underwater in the dark. You must fly with me now. We can’t risk a storm. We’ll have time to explore the ocean when there isn’t a storm. I promise.”

“But—”

“Now!”

Hikaru shoved up from the ice floe, rejoining Shard, who drew a great breath of relief. “Up, high now…”

“Oh, look, Shard!”

Sleet and snow slashed against them, and the freezing wind gnawed at Shard’s core, even under the long feathers and down of a Vanir.

He whirled to see what Hikaru saw.

Great beasts lunged out of the water with squeals and clicks. Their faces, painted in stark, neat whorls of black and white, seemed to match the patches of ice and darkness in the water. Shard, flapping hard against the storm, closed his eyes with a growing sense of dread.

“What are they?” Hikaru cried, full of awe and joy at seeing something new.

Shard strained to understand their voices, so different from a gryfon, a bird or creature of the earth. He thought of the waves, of salt water streaming around his face when he swam. A memory of a dream came to him, a pale blue king.

Jaarl.
Perhaps even Shard’s own ancestor, a Vanir king who’d befriended…

“Whales,” Shard whispered. But not this kind of whale.

Their voices mingled up from the waves as they breached, crashing against ice and blowing great spurts of air and water against the storm.

“They’re calling to me.” Hikaru looped around him, seemingly unaware of the driving wind and snow. “Do you hear them? Shard, are they friends?”

“No,” Shard gasped against the wind. “Not these. Hikaru, there are some wise sea creatures, but these…” He struggled to breathe against the freezing air, the wind, and could only concentrate on keeping aloft. He’d seen the black and white whales once, as a kit. He’d asked Sigrun about them and she called them sea wolves.

“Sea wolves,” Shard said. “Not friends. They could be dangerous. Hikaru, fly higher.”

“But you said wolves are friends.”

“Hikaru, not these,” Shard snapped, his voice cracking. For Sigrun had told him a tale once of her own youth, of seeing the sea wolves for the first time, apparently playing a game in the water. Tossing something back and forth between them. She and Ragna had flown out to meet them, to welcome them to the waters of the Silver Isles.

Then Sigrun had seen what they threw in the water between them. Shard had never seen it happen, himself. But he could imagine it. He could see whales tossing a crying seal pup between them as a game.

Shard couldn’t even tell Hikaru. Despite all the tales he’d told the young dragon of his own life, he couldn’t yet explain to him the concept of taking amusement in another’s pain.

He strained against the storm, running short of breath, his belly aching from the fish and the sudden exertion. “Hikaru, please fly with me, please…” His voice sounded weak and far away to his own ears. He probably wouldn’t have listened to himself, either. Hikaru dipped lower, calling out to the whales, unable to contain his curiosity. Shard flew after him, trying to stay close and not fall in the water.

Perhaps they are capable of love as well as cruelty,
Sigrun had said, always wary of prejudicing him against any creature unjustly.
Just as a gryfon is capable of great love and great cruelty. Perhaps you could speak to one. But I would not trust them in the water as I would not trust a fox in its den.

Hikaru landed again on an ice floe and Shard, against his better judgment, dropped hard beside him.

The waves tossed the chunk of ice high and Shard dug in his talons, scrabbling for purchase as they rode down the back of a dark wave. Hikaru looped around him, holding him fast. The dragon’s claws dug into the ice as they had dug into stone. As Shard caught a relieved breath, pressed to Hikaru’s warm scales, Hikaru loosed a series of whistles and clicks, imitating the whales.