Several days had passed since he and Radlan returned from
the village. Drakon climbed the stairs past his room on the second level of the
tower and continued until he reached the square area at the top. He walked
around the wall surrounding the edge and halted at one of the corners. He
rested his elbows on the cap stone and peered in the direction of Sea Cliff
Tower.
Though the distance was too far to see the tower, he
remembered every moment of the five day journey by horse. He’d been forced to
ride with Lagon. A gag effectively
prevented speech. All during the trip, Lagon gloated over his victory. At the
journey’s end Drakon remembered how berry tea had been forced down his throat.
When the agony of the headache had ceased he’d been aboard a slaver’s ship.
Drakon sucked in a breath of cold air. Would Lagon ever pay for the death and
destruction he had wrought?
*Drakon, come.*
*Old One, what’s wrong?*
*She escapes.*
*Who?*
*The last red of High
Peak’s lineage. Soon she
will lay her eggs. Eggs we need.*
Drakon started to the door. *When will she arrive?*
*She will not manage the distance. We must go to her.*
*What can I do? How far must I ride?* Drakon did not like
the thought of leaving High
Peaks.
*You will fly with me.*
“Men don’t fly.*
*In the past, men and women rode on the backs of reds and
blues. This is what you will need. A fur pad and long leather straps. Fur-lined
sacks, stones to heat in a fire, and pieces of fur to cover them and cushion
the eggs. Find the sleeping sacks. I will need an extra feeding of meat and
thorns. You must also carry a feeding in a leather sack.*
Drakon clattered down the steps. In the storeroom he
gathered the supplies the yellow requested. He pulled on a heavy jacket and
took a pair of gloves.
When he entered the kitchen, Sofona appeared in the doorway
of the hall leading to the quarters she shared with Radlan. “Is the Old One
ill?”
“No. We go to rescue a High Peaks
red and her eggs.” He told her what the Old One wanted.
“I’ll wake Radlan. He’ll bring the feedings.”
“Make sure he packs a second one and adds thorns to both. I
must figure how to fasten these things to the Old One’s back.”
Sofona laughed. “You will fly like the men and women on the
tapestry that once hung in the great hall.”
Drakon nodded. He had vague memories of the massive wall
hanging. Hadn’t he seen and used that weaving after his return? Maybe the
tapestry had been a different one. “I believe I will.” He carried his
gatherings to the cavern and placed them on the sand.
The Old One sent pictures that Drakon followed, carefully
placing the fur pad over the ridges on the dragon’s back. Because the yellow’s
spinal ridges were narrower than the reds and blues there was no room for a
saddle. He fastened the straps to the pad, ran one on either side of the Old
One’s neck and united them with the pair drawn over the dragon’s rear legs.
Radlan arrived with the feedings. While the yellow ate,
Drakon added the rocks and furs to the two enormous sacks and tied them to the
riding pad. As soon as the Old One had devoured the meal, Drakon climbed to the
dragon’s back. He fastened himself to the pad. The yellow moved from the
cavern, across the forecourt and stepped over the edge. The great wings
unfurled.
Drakon’s stomach felt as though it had dropped to the
ground. Just before they crashed into a stand of towering firs, the Old One
caught an updraft and they soared into the moonlit sky. With caution Drakon
relaxed his hold on the fur.
*Drakon, open your speaker’s path and call the red.*
Drakon sent a silent call to the High Peaks
dragon. The yellow’s voice joined his. *I do not know your name. I am the son
of the dead lord of High
Peaks Tower.
I want to help you.* Over and over he sent the message.
*I am the Old One, a yellow of High Peaks’
lineage. I want to help you. Call us. Lead us to you.*
*Who?* The voice carried undertones of pain, sadness, and
fear. The emotions vibrated through Drakon.
*Once I was called Jade. I am your controller. Where are
you?*
*Gone from Sea Cliff. Past the captive towers. I thought to
reach the cavern, but I stayed too long. My mate is dead. The evil one set the
other blues on him. My eggs arrive soon.*
Drakon heard despair in the dragon’s voice and sought to
give her hope. *You must live. We need your eggs, or the lineage is ended.*
*We will take the eggs to safety,* the Old One said.
*Will my dragonets be free from the evil one?*
*You have my pledge,* Drakon said. *They will fly and I will
be their speaker. I was a slave. Now I am free. Your offspring will be
cherished. I will rebuild High
Peaks Tower
and see those of Sea Cliff punished for what they have done.*
*Not the dragons,* she said. *Just the evil one. The dragons
have no controller and their speakers must obey the evil one.* Her voice
sounded louder. *I must land and wait for you. The eggs come soon.*
Before long, Drakon saw a large dark shape on the ground. The
moonlight revealed the red’s resting place. The Old One spiraled down and
landed near the laboring dragon.
*The eggs,* the red cried. *You have come in time. Care for
them. High Peaks Tower
will grow strong with honorable speakers and dragons.*
Drakon quickly untied the straps and slid to the ground. He
started a small fire to heat rocks to bury beneath the furs in the sacks. As he
worked, he wondered what he could do to fulfill the red’s predictions. How
could he rebuild the line of speakers? They were usually the sons of the
tower’s lord. Thoughts of being with a woman filled him with panic. Memories of
the conditioning by the priestesses of the Temple of Fyre
bound him with iron bands.
*Not always the sons,* the Old One said. *Speakers can be
found among the kin both near and far.*
*And in ones not tied by blood,* the red said.
Were they right? Drakon sat beside the grieving red and
encouraged her. The first egg arrived. He nearly protested when the Old One
caught the blue egg in his talons and licked the shell.
*Pick it up. Breathe on it,* the yellow dragon said. *Then
place the egg in one of the sacks. There is no blue to perform the rite. Your
breath must do.*
When the red laid the second egg, the Old One licked the
shell and rolled the egg to the female dragon. Her tongue moved over the
surface.
*Do not touch this one with your skin,* the Old One
cautioned.
The red began to shake. *Speaker, my time has come. Name the
dragonets and care for them.*
*I will.*
*Old One, you must teach them.*
*I will.*
*There is a green of our lineage at Sea Cliff. He was hidden
and cared for by Arana, who can speak to all the dragons the way you can.*
Arana. Drakon’s thoughts drifted to his childhood in the
tower. There had been a girl four years younger. His parents rescued her from
the slavers. She earned her freedom because of her ability to care for the
dragons. Could Arana the red spoke of be the same girl?
*The evil one has made her a slave again,* the red said.
*She helped me escape.*
A picture of a young woman entered Drakon’s thoughts. Her
hair, the color of flames, told him the truth. She was his friend and playmate.
*Why did he enslave her? She was free.*
*There are no free women at Sea Cliff. There are no free
dragons, except the green. Verde is his name.* The red rose and unfurled her
wings. She lumbered forward.
Though she rose from the ground, Drakon knew she would never
clear the trees. *Old One, stop her.*
*She chooses death. Honor her choice and honor her. Open the
feed sack. While I eat, call the green.*
