Elvenbane (55 page)

The Elder launched himself laboriously into the air, then rose, slowly and with obvious effort, to hover just opposite Keman’s perch.

Keoke should fly more often. Father Dragon moves better than he does.

:The Lair recognizes the Right
,: Keoke said.
:What is it that you challenge
?:

Keman pulled himself even taller than before, getting all the height that he could, and spread his wings to the sun. .
I challenge the old way of silence and isolation
,: he replied. .
I challenge the Law that is not written. I challenge those who would have the Kin bide in shameful sloth when there are those who need their help
. That
is what I challenge, Elder. Will the Lair hear me, or need I go elsewhere
?:

That last was customary, but hardly needful. No Lair would ever want to admit to the shame of not having answered a rightful challenge to custom—even though that particular right was seldom exercised by anyone but a shaman. Alara could have issued that challenge over Shana—

But in the process, she might have lost her Lair if she had lost the challenge.

Well, Keman had already exiled himself. And not for nothing was he a shaman’s son. This time the Lair, and the Kin, would at least see their responsibilities, even if they would not acknowledge them.

Keoke hovered a moment longer before answering, slowly and reluctantly,
:The Lair will hear you
.:

:Now
,: Keman said quickly, before the Elder could name a later time.
:-There is need for haste in this
.:

Keoke’s wings missed a beat, as if he had not expected Keman’s demand. But it was within Keman’s right to insist on an immediate hearing, and Keoke answered even more reluctantly,
:Now, then. I will summon the Lair
.:

Then, without another word, the Elder sideslipped, turning on his wingtip, and began the spiral down to the bottom of the canyon. Keman waited until he had landed, then launched himself off the edge of the cliff and followed him straight down, wings folded in a stoop, backwinging at the last moment, sending sand and tumbleweeds flying as he braked to a spectacular landing on top of a rock outcropping near the center of the canyon.

Keoke’s frill flared in reluctant admiration, though he said nothing; he simply turned, and took a step in the direction of the gathering-cavern.

“No,” Keman said aloud. “Not in the dark. Not in a place where secrets breed. Up here. In the light, where truth belongs.”

Keoke half turned and looked over his shoulder, one eye-crest arched ironically. “Isn’t that a little melodramatic, Keman?” he said mildly.

Keman’s spinal crest flattened with embarrassment, but before he could reply, Alara spoke from behind him; his heart jumped when he heard his mother’s voice. He had been so afraid that she would be angry with him for what he had done—and yet, he’d had no other choice…

“Melodrama is the prerogative of the young and passionate, Keoke,” she said. “But I think he is right. This should be discussed in the open, not in hiding. The Kin are accustomed to hiding. Perhaps we ought to change the thinking that leads to hiding.”

As Keman turned to his mother with surprise and gratitude, she looked up at him and sent a wordless wash of love and welcome over him; and said softly, “I stand with you in this, Keman. I am only sorry that I was not free to do so before.”

He lowered his head to her, and she brushed his crest lightly with her wingtip, and silently sent him a bolstering tide of approval. And as the first of the Kin arrived, they turned to face them together, he on the rock, and she below him.

“… and there the matter stands,” Keman said, looking from face to face in his audience, and finding the visages of the Kin strange and difficult to read after all his time among the elves and halfbloods. “Through no one’s fault, elvenkind
knows
we exist; the need for secrecy is at an end, for the secret itself is out. The Kin took on a responsibility to Lashana which has been sadly neglected—and another to the halfbloods by our meddling. Would they be in such peril if it were not for the Prophecy that we took care to spread? I think not. I challenge the old ways; I call for an end to them, and for the Kin to come to the aid of the halfbloods, now, before it is too late.”

“I answer that challenge!” cried a female voice he did not recognize—though by Alara’s start of surprise, she did. “Are you willing to fight to defend it?”

“Who speaks?” Keoke called impatiently. “Who answers the challenge?”

“I do!” replied the same voice, and the dragons crowded around Keman moved aside to let the challenger through. For one moment, as the young female dragon pushed and shouldered her way to the front of the crowd, Keman did not recognize her, she had changed so much since he had left. But then her coloring, a certain sullen look in her eyes, and the petulant cast of her features gave her away.

“Myre?” he said, bewildered.

“What, you didn’t think that your sister would have the sense to see what a fool her brother is?” Myre sneered—sounding very like Rovylern. She cast a sideways, guilty glance at Alara, but did not show any sign of backing down. Instead she remained exactly where she was, feet planted stubbornly, spinal crest signaling her aggressive intentions. “The halfbloods have no call on us,” she said scornfully. “No two-legged animal does. Your brain has gone soft, brother, to think that
we
owe anything to animals. The Kin serve only the Kin. The Kin answer only to the Kin. That’s the way it should be.”

:.After you left, Rovylern changed his bullying from physical to verbal
—
and Myre left my lair and moved in with Lori and her son, and became every bit as much of a bully as he had been
,: Alara told Keman quickly.
.She and Lori are two of a kind, and with Rovylern lurking in the background, Myre can intimidate just about anyone. The only difference between Myre and Rovy is that she’s careful never to be caught harassing anyone. I sometimes think
,: she concluded bitterly,
-.that I gave birth to a changeling
.:

“How do you challenge me, sister?” Keman asked mildly. “A physical contest would be blatantly unfair, don’t you think?” Female dragons, once they matured, tended to be much larger than males, and Myre was no exception to that rule.

“Magic,” Myre said, and Keman thought she had an odd, sly look to her when she said it. “Your magic against mine. Here and now.”

“Done—” he said, without thinking—and realized from the smothered gasps around him that he had made a major mistake.

But it was too late to back out now—assuming he could have. A physical challenge was out—he was small even for a male, and Myre, though not yet at her full growth, was much bigger than he was—if he had turned down magic, what did that leave?

He leapt down from his rock to the ground, and faced her; the rest of the Kin cleared well away from the combat area—and he tried not to notice his mother’s glance of despair as she moved back out of the way.

He had learned things with Shana she couldn’t possibly know. He had an edge she couldn’t guess. He
would
beat her. He had to.

But the sly expression in her eyes did not change as he braced himself for the first trial. “Let the combat begin—” said Keoke.

Ahhh!

Keman shuddered as another shock convulsed him, holding him upright, although he could no longer see and could hardly hear.

—
got to hold on
—
it hurts
—
hurts
—

The sounds of the crowd of Kin were growing more and more indistinct, as he tried to break Myre’s hold on him, and failed.

“
Enough
!” Keoke roared—it sounded as if his voice were coming from the other side of the universe—

The pain stopped, and Keman collapsed in a boneless heap into the dust; dimly hearing Myre’s bugle of triumph, and no longer caring. He simply lay where he had fallen, head on one side, eyes closed, the bitter taste of defeat choking him, and no less an agony than the ache of his abused flesh.

He would live—in fact, in a while, he would be mostly recovered, for recovery from magically caused hurts came swiftly for a dragon. Right now he wasn’t certain if that was what he really wanted.

He’d lost. He told Shana he’d bring back help—but he’d lost. Myre didn’t even cheat; she didn’t have to. The magic he knew was no match for combative Kin-magic. And that was
all
she knew.

If he had been in halfblood form, he would have wept.

How could he face them again? How could he go back to them and tell them that the help he promised wasn’t coming?

But if he didn’t go back—they wouldn’t have even him.

He was exiled now beyond all recalling, as good as dead; if he were to approach anyone of the Kin, they would pretend he was not there.

He waited as sounds receded; as the last of the Kin left the arena, left the “dead one” to vanish discreetly. At least that would give him the privacy to pick himself up and take himself and his defeat away. Finally he opened his eyes, and slowly, aching in every fiber, got himself to his feet. He felt as if every scale had been separately hammered, then set on fire.

The canyon was completely empty; there wasn’t even a hint that anything lived here. Somehow, that made him feel worse. Contrary to the Law, he had hoped that at least Alara would have stayed.

But—perhaps it was just as well. Now he was free to do whatever he felt had to be done. He would do it alone—but he need no longer fear the censure of anyone of the Kin.

You couldn’t condemn a ghost, he told himself. You couldn’t punish someone who was already dead. He didn’t have anything else to bring Shana, so he would bring her what was left of his life.

Even though he was ready to give up, he would not begrudge her that. Whatever was left for him to do, he would. Even though it was probably not enough to save her.

He lifted his wings and spread them to the sun—and threw himself and his defeat into the cold, uncaring skies.

Alara climbed the back of the cliff to avoid being seen by any of the Kin. Right now, she was so angry that she could hardly think—she certainly wasn’t going to be coherent enough to come up with a convincing lie.

Keman should be flying very slowly—and he would without a doubt have to stop fairly soon to make a kill. The fight would have left him terribly depleted. It shouldn’t be too difficult to follow him.

She seethed with anger at the Kin of her Lair—at the Kin in general. Keman had been right; he’d been right since the beginning. His challenge should have been answered properly, with a responsible acknowledgment. The Kin should have protected him. It should
never
have come to trial-by-combat.

She reached the flat top of the cliff, and paused for a moment to rest and take in sun and the energy it supplied. She would need it; this was going to be a long flight.

The one thing that this sorry situation had done was to force her to set her priorities. What was the point of being shaman to a Lair full of bullies who did what they wished because no one stopped them, and cowards who abdicated their responsibilities because they were too lazy and too selfish to think of anything outside their own petty needs? What kind of a self-respecting shaman
would
remain in service to Kin like that?

What was important? To act on responsibilities, no matter what anyone else did. To do as Keman had done—stand up for what was right.

To stand behind the child who had the guts to do all of that, and shame to those who did not.

She climbed to the edge of the cliff, balanced there, and gathered herself for flight.

:Alara, wait.:

Alara stopped herself in midlaunch with a lurch, and turned to see who was behind her.

Keoke hauled himself laboriously up the cliff-face, and behind him, she saw the heads and snouts of a dozen others. She tightened her claws on the rocks and drew herself up stubbornly as they all climbed up over the edge and surrounded her.

“Don’t try to stop me,” she warned. “Keman was right—he’s been right all along, and no stupid trial-by-combat with a bully is going to make him wrong. I’m following him, I am going to help him and my fosterling, just as I should have when he first ran away, and the Lair can just find itself another shaman. There is
nothing
you can say or do that is going to make me change my mind.” .

“Change your mind?” Keoke repeated after her—and to her absolute astonishment, he was clearly surprised. “Change your mind? Fire and Rain—we don’t want you to change your mind, Alara—we want to go with you!”

“You—what?” She blinked, trying to make sense of what Keoke had just said.

“We want to go with you,” he repeated patiently. “Myre won, yes, but she was in the wrong, and she only won because she’s been working towards a challenge like this since the day she moved in with
Lori
. She plans on ruling the Lair.
We
all knew that! And we knew Keman was right, too—but there aren’t enough of us to make a majority.”

“I’m sick of this Lair,” said Orola, with obvious disgust. “I’m sick of the lazy ignoramuses that think all we need to do is keep our bellies full and sit in the sun, like a fat herd of sheep. And I am sick to death of the petty nonsense we’ve been wasting our time on—”

“
We’re
tired of doing nothing,” chimed in one of the females, one of the young adults, about Keman’s age. “Every time any of us wants to
do
something out there”—she waved a wingtip in the general direction of the elven lands—”all we hear about is that we have to keep our existence secret. Well, it
isn’t
secret, and it hasn’t been for a while, and we don’t see any reason to go hide in a cave and nope nobody finds us!”

Her frill rose with agitation, but Keoke calmed the youngster with a look. “The real factor here is that Keman
was right
. We
are
at least partially responsible for the danger that the halfbloods are in now—and we are
totally
responsible for what happened to Lashana. The two-leggers are not thinking beasts; they are our equals. And the humans were here before we were; it’s their world, and we and the elves are the interlopers here. We owe it to the rightful inhabitants to at least
try
to set things right for them, since we have co-opted a part of their world. The oldest ways taught us that we must accept and act upon our responsibilities, but we haven’t done a thing. We’ve simply played with these beings as if they were markers on a gameboard. But they aren’t—and it’s time we made things right with them. Or at least tried.”