[Firebringer 03] - The Son of Summer Stars (17 page)

Unease swept him. He struggled, but found himself unable to rouse from this dream of the future unfolding before him in the dragon’s brow. The Scouts of Halla vanished from view. Lost in the underground caverns of the Smoking Hills, their chanting diminished, finally ceased. Darkness awhile. Then he beheld the Plain rolling before him, drenched in the sunlight of middle spring. He had no inkling how much time was to have passed.

Before him, two groups of unicorns converged. The first, led by Tek, her particolored rose and jet unmistakable among the orange reds and sky-water blues, the occasional grey or gold. Narrow at the head, flaring, then tapering toward the rear, the herd flowed across the green grass Plain. Young occupied the center, flanked by their elders on every side. The steady, deliberate pace, Jan observed, enabled even the youngest to travel untaxed. Half-growns frisked and sparred along the fringes. Plainsgrass around them rippled and bowed.

The vast warband of the Vale moved toward another group, far fewer, but much more widely spaced. The foremost of these stood dark blue with a silver mane. Jan recognized Calydor with his star-bespeckled coat. To one side stood the seer’s niece, Crimson, and her pale-blue filly, Sky. Crimson’s belly looked heavy and round, in foal again. Her companion, Goldenhair, was nowhere to be seen, but Jan spotted her father, Ashbrindle, on Calydor’s other side. Numerous Plainsdwellers flanked them. They stood awaiting the Valedwellers’ approach.

Tek whistled the herd to a halt. Dagg flanked her, Ryhenna a few paces behind. Her mother, Jah-lila, stood at her other shoulder with Lell, Teki the healer, and Dhattar and Aiony with Ses well back of them all. Above, Illishar circled, his shadow passing over them from time to time.

“Hail, Free People of the Plain,” the pied mare called. “I am Tek, regent and mate to Aljan Moonbrow, our prince. We come in peace and seek no quarrel.”

“Hail,” the star-strewn seer replied. “I am Calydor, singer and farseer among my folk, who call me Alma’s Eyes. Some here have met your mate. I bid you safe travel.”

“We seek to pass through your lands on our way to our ancestral home, which we mean to wrest from treacherous wyverns,” Tek continued. “Have we your leave to pass?”

Calydor tossed his mane. “Though your goal is known to us, none here may grant you leave—for the Plain is not ours. We lay no claim. Rather, ’t claims us, the People of the Plain. Pass freely, as we do, and ask no leave.”

The pied leader of the unicorns bowed her head. “I thank you, Calydor, and all your folk. I pledge my herd will not trouble yours as we pass. My mate has come before us and told our tale. Should any among you care to join our cause, my folk stand eager to accept allies. Once we have won back our Hallow Hills, all who fought alongside us will be welcome to share our newfound home.”

Snorting, stamping, and a tossing of heads among the Plainsdwellers followed. Jan’s ears pricked, but he could not be sure he had heard a whicker or two, quickly bitten off. Solemnly, Calydor shook his head.

“I thank you, Regent Tek, for your generosity. I know of none among my folk who would join you. We of the Plain are not reft of homeland. We stand content. Any of my fellows are, of course, free to embrace your cause. Perhaps in time some will make such wishes known. But we do not generally savor war. The vastness of the Mare’s Back settles our disputes. If others offend us, we leave them. But we wish you well for the sake of your mate, who impressed me greatly as an honorable wight.”

Watching, high above them in dreams, Jan warmed to Calydor’s praise. Yet he sensed consternation among his own folk at the Plainsdweller’s reply. Most of those from the Vale, Jan suspected, had simply assumed these ragtag vagabonds would rush to join the herd’s battle march, praising Alma for the privilege. That their herd’s sacred quest might be viewed with cool detachment by outsiders baffled some. Jan himself could only smile. He admired Tek’s calm, collected response.

“So be it,” she said warmly. “We welcome any who join us and bid fair weather to the rest. One other favor I would ask. My folk have traversed the Plain many times on yearly pilgrimage to initiate our young. But those bands numbered only warriors and half-growns, no elders or weanlings or suckling mares. The host before you moves far more slowly. We need guides to show us shelter from wind and rain, help us ward away pards and find sufficient water. Would any among you consent to the task?”

Jan sensed interest stirring among the Free People of the Plain. Calydor stepped forward.

“I myself will gladly escort you,” he answered. “I wot these parts well. Many of my companions may choose to accompany. We are, I confess, most curious, having heard many rumors of you, but rarely met Moondancers face to face.

Tek nodded. “Very well,” she said. “Let us share path for as long as may be.”

With mixed eagerness and hesitation, the two groups merged, colts and fillies boldest, half-growns boisterous. Full-growns and elders on both sides approached more warily. Yet the two groups did mingle, exchanged tentative questions, greetings. Only one among the Valedwellers did not stir, Jan noticed presently. One mare poised motionless. Others eddied around her, yet she remained rooted, eyes riveted on the star-strewn seer who, joined by his brother, niece and niece’s daughter, stood treating with Tek, Dagg, Ryhenna, Teki, Jah-lila and various Elders of the Vale.

Calydor caught sight of her suddenly. She stood not many paces from him. Glancing up, his gaze fell upon her. He froze. He had not marked her before, Jan realized. She must have stood screened from his view during Tek’s initial greeting, or perhaps the pied mare had held the seer’s whole attention. But he glimpsed the other now. Jan saw the silver-flecked stallion’s eyes lock on hers. Half a dozen heartbeats, the pair of them stared mute. The mare’s fiery mane, red as poppies, beat against the pale ivory of her pelt.

With a start, she wheeled and loped away. Not a word or a whistle, not a backward glance. Unnoticed by the others, the stallion’s eyes yearned after her. Plainly, he could not desert the parley. But why, Jan wondered, had the mare not joined them? As one of the youngest of the Council of Elders, she was entitled, indeed expected. Jan’s brow furrowed. The pale mare’s conduct baffled him. He would have thought her eager to speak with Calydor, learn all she could from the seer of the time he had spent with Jan. But she had fled away. The young prince could not fathom it. For the red-maned mare had been Ses, his own dam.

Sentries, both Valedwellers and Plainsdwellers, stood alert for pards. The fillies and foals lay surrounded by elders. Jan harbored no fear for them. Scenting the slight, sighing breeze, he found it free of all odor of predators. Nevertheless, he was keenly aware that this oasis—so vital to his folk—formed a maze of rills and rises, troughs and groves and irregular pools. Despite the sentries’ diligent watch, almost any creature—even one large as a unicorn or pard—might steal past undetected if it moved stealthily and luck ran with it.

Shadows, movement among the trees. Far from the main camp, which lay barely within view through the close-spaced trees, Jan detected motion. Two small figures fidgeted among the treeboles, one black-and-silver, well camouflaged by mottled moonlight and shade, the other wholly white, pale ghostly as a dream. With a start of surprise, Jan recognized the tiny pair: Aiony and Dhattar, his own filly and foal. They stood taut, listening, straining to see through the moon blaze and shadow. Jan heard rustling.

“Here she comes,” Aiony whispered to her brother. He nodded with a little snort.

A third figure emerged from the trees, larger than the first two, but still much smaller than full-grown. For a moment moonlight glanced across her. Jan was able to discern the darkamber coat, the milky mane of his sister Lell. For a moment, Jan thought he sensed another presence, something larger than all three of them, moving behind Lell in the darkness of the trees—but the moment passed. No scent, no sound, no further hint of motion from that quarter. Lell shook herself.

“There you are,” she hissed. “It took me best part of an hour, stumbling about dodging sentries, to find you.”

Jan saw his son’s legs stiffen, his coat bristle. “We told you the pool shaped like a salamander.”

Lell snorted. “They’re
all
shaped like salamanders,” she answered, exasperated.

Dha’s mouth fell open as though to make some reply, but his sister murmured, “Peace. They come.”

The darkamber filly and Dhattar both turned, moving closer to each other and to Aiony.

“I’m not sure this is wise,” Lell muttered, her sudden caution surprising Jan.

“You wanted to see wyverns,” Dhattar responded.

“Aye, but in secret?” his young aunt inquired. “Years from now, when we tell the tale, no one will believe us.”

Aiony nodded, rubbing her cheek against the older filly’s shoulder. “They will believe us, rest sure.”

“Should we not inform Tek? As regent…”

“She deserves our loyalty and trust,” the younger filly finished. “Aye. No doubt. Had we informed her, she would surely have kept her head and acted well.”

“But what of others?” Dhattar picked up his sister’s thread. “The herd’s hatred of wyverns goes back centuries. Even now we march against those still loyal to Lynex who hold our homeland from us.”

Lell’s gaze turned inward, considering. “You fear if we told Tek, she might not believe us?”

Aiony laughed softly. “Not that. Nay, never that.”

“If we told her,” Dhattar replied, “she must consult the Elders. Others would learn of it. Soon all would know.”

“You fear Tek might not be able to restrain our folk from falling upon these wyverns?”

Dhattar shrugged. “Perhaps. These wyrms are defenseless, after all.”

“Not all of them,” Lell countered. “You said some of them have stings.”

“To which we are impervious,” Aiony replied. “Nay, theirs is the greater peril. Our mother rules by the herd’s goodwill. Why strain her regency by inviting strife?”

Lell set her teeth, deep in thought, and cast one furtive glance over her shoulder as though searching for something behind them in the dark. Jan detected nothing. Evidently neither could Lell. A moment later, she returned her attention to her young nephew and niece.

“Well enough, then. I will watch—but mark me, I’ll raise the alarm if they offer the least…”

She did not finish the phrase. Across the narrow finger of water, a form appeared, translucent as ice. Blazing moonlight cut through its reptilian shape, illuminating sinews, suggestions of organs and the shadows of bones. The oily, fine-scaled skin gave off a rainbow sheen. Long-necked, the creature’s body sported two wide forepaws before tapering away into a lengthy tail. The form was joined by another of its kind and another still. The nostrils on their long, tapered muzzles flared at the scent of water.

Standing just at trees’ edge on the opposite bank, the three colts stood motionless. Scarcely the length of a running bound separated the three wyrms from them. Clearly parched, the newcomers hesitated only an instant before slithering toward the pool. Two bent eagerly to drink, but the third caught sight of the young unicorns reflected in the water. With a little shriek, it jerked upright. Its two companions did the same.

“Unicorns!” one hissed. “Warn the others—”

“Peace,” Aiony called, her soft voice carrying easily in the still night air. “We mean you no harm.”

The three across the pool hesitated, clearly torn between two terrors: that of remaining and that of fleeing without tasting the precious water. The middle one, slightly larger than the others, seemed to rally.

“What do you mean?” it demanded. “Are your folk not enemies of my kind? How is it you offer peace?”

“We are Lell Darkamber, king’s daughter,” Aiony replied, nodding to the filly at her side, “and Aiony, princess-to-be, and my brother, Dhattar, prince-to-be. We war only against followers of Lynex, who will not yield our rightful lands.”

“We are seers, my sister and I,” Dhattar went on. “We know you have deserted Lynex and fled the Hills, and that you hold him as much an enemy as do we.”

Across the pool, the three wyverns gaped in surprise. Jan discerned all at once that they were younglings, far from fully grown.
Of course,
he reasoned.
They would have to be.
The only stingless ones to have survived among the wyverns had hatched since the death of the wyvern queen.

“It is true we are no friends of Lynex,” another of the white wyrms admitted. “He sought to destroy our land. Now he lies in wait for your pilgrims along the moon lake’s path. We fled rather than join that treachery. We are done with Lynex and his sting-tailed ways. We long only for a peaceful life which harms no one. We seek new dens in a new homeland.”

“Show us your tails,” Lell called. “We must be sure.”

Unhesitatingly, the wyvern trio held up the blunt, stingless tips at the end of their whiplike tails. The darkamber filly nodded, satisfied.

“Well enough,” she said. “Drink and go your way. We three will not harm you. But mark you take all pains to avoid our sentries, for if you draw their notice, my companions and I cannot pledge your safety. Few of our fellows distinguish wyrms with stings from those without.”

The three wyverns hesitated along moment. Sheer fatigue seemed to decide for them, and they dipped their muzzles to the pool, drawing the water in desperate draughts. At last, the eldest raised its head.

“We thank you,” it offered. “We have long suspected our legends calling your kind lackwits and fools to be untrue. Till now, we have had no truth with which to dispel them. Rest sure that our talespinners will remember this deed, how unicorns spared us and offered us water, allowing us to journey on unscathed.”

“The rest of our number must drink,” another of the wyverns hissed urgently.

“Fetch them,” Lell replied. “We will stand watch.”

Quick as a flinch, the smallest of the wyrms vanished into the trees. Of the remaining two, the younger spoke.

“Five summers gone, your warriors slew Lynex’s queen and gave our kind the chance we needed to multiply and grow. Unwittingly, perhaps. Still, we owe you that.”

“Our sire and dam slew her,” Dhattar told them, “with their shoulder-friend, Dagg. They only did so because she meant to kill them and would not let them go.”

“Our flight from Lynex has succeeded,” the other wyvern replied, “solely because he dare not send loyalists to hunt us down while marshaling his forces to ambush you. We knew we must seize this, our one chance of escape, lest he fall upon us and devour us as he means to do with you.”

Aiony and Lell glanced at one another. “He may find himself surprised instead,” the older filly answered.

“But where will you go?” Aiony asked the two wyrms suddenly. “You must find shelter by summer’s end.”

The pair twitched in despair. “We know nothing of the world beyond our dens. We knew only that we must flee or die. We cannot guess where our trek will lead, only that it must be far from Lynex and his murderous kind.”

“Hark me,” Aiony replied. “My sib and I have seen your destination in dreams. You must circle back the way you came, for no haven lies before you. Travel north and west instead, and you will find dens in plenty by summer’s end. This I vow. You must trust our word. Had we meant you harm, we had raised the alarm by now.”

The two wyverns gazed at her uncertainly until a rustling behind made them turn. Other wyverns emerged from the trees, heads darting cautiously. Catching sight of the pool, they hastened to the bank, drank eagerly and long.

“Look into the water,” Dhattar murmured to Lell. “I’ll show you the wyrmking in his lair.”

Lell looked deep, and as she did so, Jan felt his perception merge with hers. Through Lell’s eyes, he saw the moonbright pool, its still surface disturbed by the touch of many wyverns. Lell heard their soft lapping, the rustle of bodies, quiet hissing of breath. Jan watched her reflection ripple in the pool beside Dhattar’s. Their images pulled apart and re-formed into new shapes: Lynex’s den, shot through with moonlight. The white wyrmking towered above a cringing, single-headed underling.

“Gone?” the central, largest pate demanded, and its secondary heads echoed, “What do you mean, gone?”

“Escaped, my liege,” the messenger whimpered. “Fled to the Plain. Not a stingless one remains in all our dens.”

“Fled?” the great head of Lynex raged. “They had no right! They were mine. My subjects. Mine to banish or destroy. So hungry—I have grown so very hungry, waiting on these unicorns. Where now is my feast?”

The messenger cowered before Lynex as the wyrmking’s half-dozen smaller aspects ranted, “Hungry, hungry! Longing for the feast! “

Jaws snapping, heads writhing above the scar-laced breast, the iridescent white form reared up, roaring its rage. Suddenly the great central head whipped around, returned its gaze to the messenger now creeping away.

“Halt,” Lynex spat. “You do not have leave to go. Did you not mark your king hungers?”

The other gave a terrified cry. “No, no, my liege! I am but a messenger. Mercy. Mercy, I beg you!…”

Frantically, the little wyrm dashed for the den’s egress. Quicker than thought, the wyverns’ seven-headed king lunged. Brilliant moonlight from a lightwell glanced across him, breast scar gleaming between the stumpy forepaws’ powerful, extended claws, teeth like broken fishbones, all seven mouths agape. Sickened, Lell heard the messenger shriek. Dhattar set his hoof down in the pool, breaking the image.

“We needn’t watch more,” he told her softly.

Jan felt his sister’s silent sigh. She shook herself, heart thumping inside her ribs, voice tight with outrage.

“He’s evil,” she whispered. “He eats his own kind.”

Dhattar nodded, then glanced away. The stingless wyverns had finished drinking. Jan observed them: all were noticeably plumper, more nimble, less weary. Aiony nodded gravely to the foremost among them. Apparently they had been speaking softly for some time.

“We will not forget, little black-and-silver. Seeking these dens which you describe, we will praise your name, and think no more ill of unicorns.”

“Have a care how you depart,” Aiony answered. “All the herd does not feel as we. One day, perhaps, we will pledge truce with stingless wyverns—but for now, this must be but our own, privy pact. Avoid our sentries and depart in peace, guided by Alma’s eyes.”

Softly as running water, the wyverns slipped away. Jan marked only the barest rustle of grass as they withdrew. That, too, faded.

Lell looked at Aiony.

“They’re smaller than I thought.”

Dhattar nodded. “Those were but youths, and stingless. The ones with stings are older, far greater in size. Our warriors will have no easy task.”

“Truth,” another voice behind them murmured, a deep, throaty purr like a grass pard’s thrumming.

Dhattar and Aiony jumped and wheeled. Lell did not, merely cast a glance over one shoulder at Illishar just emerging from the trees. His massy, wingèd form was as graceful moving along the ground as it was in flight.