

Dragon Nemesis

DRAGONS IN THE MIST

Prequel

By B.J. Whittington

Copyright 2013

Smashwords Edition

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Books written by B.J. Whittington can be obtained either through the author's official website:

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Storymill Publishing

All characters and situations in this novel are entirely fictional and any resemblance to any persons living or dead is purely coincidental.

Copyright © B.J. Whittington 2013

ISBN: 978-1-939895-13-4

All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever, including the right to copy, distribute and adapt the work.

# Chapter 1

Taloxville appears below as Maru pops into existence with sixty-one other dragons transporting in around him. A sharp wind, fraught with the putrid stench of rotted mushrooms, fills his wings as his gaze rakes the scene below him. A covey of four-winged, tan creatures assaults the town. Screeches from over eight score of Volastoque mingle with screams of townspeople as the creatures ravage the populace and lay waste to the town.

Maru plunges groundward, then slows to hover a few feet above a nearby hillside to release the Shaman he clutches in his talons. The Shaman lurches into a run the instant his feet meet the ground. Strong thrusts of Maru's wings take him further aloft. His long neck swivels and he watches as other dragons deposit their Shaman passengers.

Bright, blue rays surge from the Shamans' hands, cutting through the air to bombard Volastoque with a deadly deluge. Maru bugles a challenge and enters the fray.

He plummets toward a creature spraying Killer Frost across fleeing humans. Damas carry infants and drag toddlers behind them in a frantic bid to escape the frigid blast. The wails of the babes chop off as the glacial wave freezes them solid in an instant. Damas who survive the blast clutch their children against their bodies, curling around the survivors in an attempt to warm them with their own reduced body heat. Rage seethes through Maru as he extends his back talons, snatching two of the creature's wings and jerking to tear the membranes.

With strong downward thrusts, he streaks skyward with the Volastoque clutched beneath him. The muscles in his shoulders protest at the added weight. The creature wails as it opens its mouth and attempts to shred Maru's lower body with its serrated teeth. He expands his lungs, swings his neck around, and flames spew from his mouth to engulf the beast. He releases for a heartbeat, then snatches again to grab the rear wings. Thrusting sideways, he shatters the wing bones. Maru looks for a clear spot amidst the turmoil below. He flings the creature, elated when it splatters against a stone wall.

Blue rays sear across the sky painted red with the setting of the sun. Maru circles high, spots a target in the flitting horde below, and he readies his battle flames. Folding his wings, he dives.

Flames sear the beast below him. Its wings wither to stumps beneath the raging battle flames and it tumbles. Maru braces his wings open, slowing his descent but following the Volastoque, continuing to burn it until he has to stop to draw breath. Powering out of the descent, he watches it smash to the ground.

Pain lances across his back as a Volastoque slams into him from above. The beast rakes its claws across his sides as it seeks to sink jagged teeth into his neck. Writhing, Maru tries to shake the creature free. Red-hot pain envelops his shoulder as the fiend latches on, jerking its mouth to sheer through his scales into the flesh beneath.

Maru flips. Lashing his tail, he manages to entangle the beast's wings. Together, they plummet toward the ground. The impact wrenches the beast's jaws from his shoulder as Maru lands atop the Volastoque, then bounces.

Shuddering, he manages to roll to his feet. Drawing a ragged breath, he forces battle flames out to scorch the creature. Shrieks fill the air as it surrenders to the blaze.

Pain knifes across his shoulder as he tries to launch. Maru collapses, barely managing to lift his neck, and sees the remaining Volastoque fleeing across the horizon as dusk claims the land.

~!~

Shaman Jadrun drops onto his chair as the members of the Shaman Council dribble into the meeting chamber. His mind worries at the lack of progress in the search for his mate. As he waits, his frustration builds. He should have been with them, should have taken the time off to transport his family to the caverns. If he only had taken the time, but Blanche had convinced him that she and the boys needed to travel with the convoy. No special privileges or some such rot, for as a transport Shaman it would have only been a matter of moments for him to get them to the sanctuary caverns. He fidgets in his chair while the room slowly fills with Shaman, Healers, and Mystics. By the Lady, he wishes they would hurry. He needs to return to the search. He slips off his light cloak and drapes it on the chair's back; the room is too warm. Shaman Hern and most of the Head Shaman are no longer in the winters of their youth and crave warmer surroundings.

An acolyte enters the room and the quiet murmur of voices stills as she raises a talisman of the Lady. Her voice is clear and pulsates with passion as she invokes a blessing. "Almighty and eternal Lady of the Mist, whose protection is the strong defense of all who trust in Thee, enlighten and direct those gathered here. Yours is the brightness of love that shines even in the deepest gloom; we beseech Thee, keep alive in the Palmir People steadfastness and courage through these trying times."

Jadrun habitually joins with the others in the response. "May Thy gentle hand guide us."

The acolyte lowers the talisman and exits the room.

"Greetings." Shaman Hern shuffles a few parchments in front of him, then raises cobalt-blue eyes filled with worry to peruse those gathered. "I am passing over the customary procedures of a Council meeting to expedite things." He gestures a gnarled finger at the documents on the table. "These reports, I shall summarize."

His pauses and wipes a finger across one eye, then continues, "Our dragons take heavy damages. Their losses are high, and between the three caverns there are over sixty currently under the care of Healers for their injuries. In the six winters we have fought these Volastoque, this plague from the north, our dragons have never sustained such high numbers in losses. We hope, as we bring our people and the young dragons in, to establish a strong defense at each cavern that will bring the losses and injuries down and enable us to withstand these attacks."

He shakes his head. "However, this, too, creates its own set of issues. The refugees brought to the three locations total a few over thirteen thousand. With those already residing at the caverns, it brings the numbers up to a bit over seventeen thousand. There _may_ ," he clears his throat and taps on the top parchment, "be approximately that number of people still on their way or at their villages yet."

Yes, and his mate may be out there, Jadrun seethes, injured and trying to make her way to a cavern. He reins in his irritation at sitting in another mandatory meeting with difficulty. For six winters the Volastoque have attacked. Ever since the beasts' first, unprovoked, incursion into the Palmir People's lands they have met to deal with the situation. These meetings do nothing but rehash the same issues while his search is delayed.

Beside Jadrun a woman exhales in a puff of breath. "So few." The Healer's eyes are full of sorrow and shock as she stares at Shaman Hern.

Hern acknowledges the woman's comment with a slight inclination of his head. "Yes, less than one sixth the population of the Palmir People prior to the attacks survive." He glances around the table of silent men and women. "Yet, we are faced with issues from even this number. We cannot hope to feed this many for an overly long period. We are facing a long, cold winter. Nevertheless, the geothermal system will suffice for the heating and cooking needs. The caverns are provisioned for emergency shelter. Yet, even with the vast storage of grains at each cavern, food supplies will soon run short."

Jadrun thrums his fingers across the table's surface, his thoughts on the hunger his mate must be experiencing... If she survives.

Hern lifts a steaming mug from the table and sips, then replaces it on the smooth top. "Our dragon allies suffer great losses. There are approximately thirty five hundred adult dragons remaining with maybe a couple hundred hatchlings and dragonets, that we are aware of. And again, although the dragons out fighting can and do hunt to provide for themselves, we are faced with rapidly depleting wildlife surrounding the caverns for the needs of those at each location."

The Head Shaman shakes his head. "I fear if the Volastoque do not destroy us, we may still find our people and the dragons starving. And it gets worse. Shaman with battle powers, transportation, and the defense and offense capabilities also diminish in numbers. We are winning most of the battles with the combined efforts of the Shaman and dragons, but I am afraid we will lose the war."

A tall, thin-lipped Mystic woman across the table from Jadrun clears her throat, then speaks, "The prophecies—."

Jadrun jerks to his feet, fists clenched at his side. "I have had enough of these damn prophecies." He glares at the woman. "Where were the Mystic's warnings when they may have done some good? Before these creatures attacked us at every turn?"

The Mystic throws her hands upon the table, palm forward. "We can only relate that which the Lady sends; we have no control over what we see."

"Although I will grant you the truth of the Mystic's sight, a fine lot of good it does us." Jadrun leans forward and slams his hand upon the table. "I have lost one son, and my mate is missing. No warning came from Mystics of an attack." His arm waves to encompass the others in the room. "Most here can say the same. Where were your prophecies when they could have saved the lives of those we love?"

The woman's brown eyes well with compassion, her face ashen, as she replies, "We can only relate what the Lady reveals. Seldom do we see specific events. When we do, it is often a difficult path that the Lady knows is the only one with hope." She drops her gaze to the table and her voice is barely above a whisper as she continues, "The prophecies show our people and the dragons, dying out. There is only one future foreseen where that was not the case."

Jadrun's heart constricts as all hope for a future with his family flees and he takes a shuddering breath. He sinks to his chair, and he, with everyone else in the room, focuses on the woman. Perhaps she will reveal a means for survival.

Her moss-green eyes take on the unfocused look that Jadrun knows means she contemplates a previous seeing. She shakes her head, then her eyes harden as she runs her gaze across those in the room. "Many have seen various depictions of the same event. A battle between thousands of Volastoque and all of our dragons and battle-power Shaman, waged over mountains. The toll is high, all dragons and Shaman perish in battle or later from injuries sustained. However, they manage to drive off the Volastoque and the creatures come no more."

The lump in his throat makes it hard to swallow, or breath. His voice emerges a harsh stutter. "Th-this is the only possible future where the Palmir People survives?"

Her eyes close. The briefest of nods is the answer.

"We cannot hope for a better resolution?" The question comes from a Shaman at the end of the table who clutches a green crystal in his hand.

The woman opens her eyes and sorrow is evident in their depths. "Our Mystics do not control that which the Lady sends to them. The future is a path; perhaps we can find another branch of this path to follow. However, at this time this path is the only one that shows the survival of the Palmir People. All other paths shown to our Mystics have resulted in the victory of the Volastoque, by battle or our starvation."

Silence follows for a long moment, then Hern clears his throat. The old Shaman's blue eyes blur with grief as he stares at Jadrun. "We must continue our efforts. If and when this battle occurs, we still will have the remaining people to provide for. I pray the Lady will send our Mystics another solution. However, meanwhile, what can we do now to improve our situation?"

Silence fills the chamber, then a man at the end of the table begins to speak, but Jadrun cannot focus on what he says. All Jadrun can see in his mind's eye is the imminent loss of all dragons and Shaman. If he does not find Blanche, then his boy, Montello, will truly be alone.

# Chapter 2

Each downward stroke of Maru's wings sends a sharp pang through his right shoulder. Locking his teeth against the ache, he takes a firmer grip on two deer dangling in his talons. His serpentine neck swivels as he searches the star-studded horizon. To the west, an emerald dragon spirals downward. Kilita. Her lair lies within the foothills behind his own. Even at this distance, the low angle of her neck and faltering wing strokes reveals fatigue and grief racks the female's body.

Her mate, Timac, fell in the defense of Taloxville. Maru's heart aches for the brave bronze. Timac's shattered body burned in the enormous funeral pyre of fifteen dragons that lit the skies for two sunrises after they drove off the Volastoque. The forlorn death song of the forty-seven surviving dragons still rings in his ears.

He searches the mist-shrouded peaks of the Renault Mountains for any sign of Volastoque. The smaller of the two moons, Esab, peeks above the horizon. Its orange-tinted light bathes the exposed mountain peaks and shadows ripple across their contours as the clinging mist takes on an orange glow.

He needs to land. Soon.

He tilts his wings to circle back around. Esab casts a soft ginger glow across his wing's silver scales, highlighting dull patches of dried blood that mar the surface of his ragged right wing. He searches the horizon for a hint of the pearly glow that heralds Ecam's rising. Only the soft hiss of his wings interrupts the stillness of the night. He shakes his head, fighting exhaustion that leaches through his body. He must ensure none of the creatures observe his descent.

His red eyes try to penetrate the mist. The covering of fog may hide any number of Volastoque. He must not lead them to the lair.

The hoary radiance of Ecam breaking free from the horizon pulls Maru's attention back to the sky. The silver tide of Ecam's light washes across the heavens and stars dim as if bowing to his brilliance. Ecam rises slower than his little brother, Esab. The sphere inches above the horizon, painting the mountains in sharp contrast as it carves deep shadows across their surfaces. Maru scrutinizes the mountainside. Nothing. He is the only thing stirring in the quiet night. When Ecam clears the horizon, he turns his tired wings toward home.

The distinct edge above his lair looms closer as he angles downward. He enters the fogbank, his vision reduced below the point where he can see only his own black body. Panting, he draws air thick as soup into his lungs. His wings back-peddle to slow his descent and droplets form on his body, his silver mane, ridges, and wings appearing to flow like quicksilver. He emits a soft cry; the echo rebounds from the surrounding ridges and narrows down the lair's location for him.

Maru swoops near the ledge, partially closing his wings on each backstroke. He flinches when his shoulders rotate to move his wings in a figure-eight pattern that allows him to hover.

" _Aura, I have returned,"_ he sends in Mindspeak as he lands softly on the ledge in front of their cavern. His hind legs take the bulk of his weight; he lets his forelegs touch, dropping the deer and folding his wings at his side.

The scrape of claws on hard stone heralds his mate's arrival as she bursts from the mouth of the entrance tunnel. His eyes feast on her long, serpentine physique as he notes the lackluster appearance of her mahogany scales.

" _Maru. I thought... never mind what I thought. Welcome home, mine mate."_ Her words come out a liquid sibilant hiss from worry. She rushes to him, and their necks entwine. He lifts his left wing to lie across her and pulls her tight to his side.

" _Thou has ever been in mine heart and thoughts."_ He whispers as his cheek plates rasp across the scales of her face. Her body melts against his, and some of the tightness across his chest loosens as he embraces his mate.

Her body shudders in a sigh of contentment and a single tear, delicate as a dewdrop, traces a path along the edges of the scales on her cheek. _"By the Lady, it is good to be in thine embrace. We have missed thee."_

" _And I, thee."_ He regretfully disentangles, easing her away. _"How are our hatchlings?"_

Aura slumps, her eyes desolate when they meet his gaze. _"We lost Garyl. Falcop is not fairing well, the other seven are fine."_

His heart constricts in pain. His scarlet-colored son. Images of Garyl, the smallest and most inquisitive of their hatchlings, fill his mind. Guilt crashes through him. He should have been here. It is his responsibility to provide for his family. He looks closer at his mate. She is thin; her hide hangs on her frame without substance to fill out the sharp contours. Her usually sparkling scales are dry, and there are patches where the scales have fallen off, exposing skin resembling tough, old leather.

She gestures at the deer carcasses with a fore claw. _"Those deer will be much appreciated. I have not had a successful hunt in five sunrises."_

" _When was the last time thou ate?"_

" _A drama."_ Her words, quiet as a breath, break his heart.

Nine sunrises, his mate has not fed in nine sunrises because he was not here to provide. _"Come, let us take these inside. Thou and my offspring shall feed. I will rest a short time, and then hunt again."_

Aura lifts one carcass, turning to stride in front of him into the tunnel entrance. He snags the second deer and follows his mate. The sides of the tunnel are worn smooth from the scrape of their scales over the last one hundred-plus years. Aura has thinned so much her sides are well-clear of the walls, but Maru's right wing brushes the surface, sending a jolt of pain to his shoulder.

When Aura clears the tunnel, the scramble of claws and trilling of the young fills the air. Maru swallows as his throat tightens with emotion as the nest comes into sight. The hatchlings are five dramas old, twice the size of one of the human's draft horses, only lanky and long-legged as newborn foals. And thin. Much too bony for their ages. Aura drops the deer she carries and they set upon it like starved wolves. All except one. Falcop, a bright green male, stands on wobbly legs without the strength to enter the fray when the others savage the carcass. Maru strides past the seven feeding, and drops the second deer. Placing a fore talon on the body, he rips it open and scoops up the entrails to place them in front of Falcop.

The hatchling crashes down beside the pile, fills his mouth, then lifts his neck. His throat pulsates as he jerks his neck, swallowing. Maru rips off the back haunches and flings them toward the scuffling pile of hatchlings. He takes the forequarters and places it in front of Aura. _"Feed."_

" _No, I shall wait until they have their fill."_ She pushes the meat away with one talon, her eyes locked on her feeding offspring.

" _No, thou needs to eat, I shall bring more as soon as I have rested."_

She shakes her head. _"I can..."_

" _Thou cannot go much longer without food."_ He pushes the haunches back. _"Eat, my mate. I promise, I will bring more soon."_

She nods, then pulls off a chunk of deer, flinging it toward Falcop before commencing to feed. Maru settles to the floor of the cavern, placing himself between the stronger hatchlings and his weak son. He curls his long tail around his body as he watches them feed.

Soft calls of Toh-ka, Toh-kay fill the chamber as they settle down to gnaw the bones. _"Lady Blessings, my children."_ His Mindspeak is filled with sorrow as his gaze runs over their skinny bodies; their colors are muted and their wing membranes weak, lacking substance. Several look toward him; he can feel the tingle at the back of his head as they attempt to communicate in Mindspeak. He gets a sense of welcome and gratitude, but no clear thoughts. _"It is good to be home, I shall bring thee more food in a bit."_

He lays his head upon the warm stone, his lids heavy as his shoulder ache fades into the background of his exhaustion. Aura, satisfied that Falcop has finished his portion, comes to lie beside him. Her neck curls across his back as her body presses against him. Content, he succumbs to sleep.

# Chapter 3

Healer Geramn chants the last of three prayers for dedication to the Lady while he runs the sealing stone across the burial shroud's opening to seal it shut. The tow-headed toddler's pale face disappears from view as the fabric warms to the stone's touch and the edges merge.

Geramn pats the bundle with one hand as the other slips the stone into his pocket. He nods to the two men waiting to remove the body. He does not even know the child's name. She never regained consciousness since the attack. He rocks back to sit on his calves as they take the little girl. His tired gaze follows their progress past rows of injured lain out in the courtyard of Taloxville. When they lower their bundle to rest in a row of similar bundles, most of them larger—but far too many child-sized—he notes the rows of dead are diminishing as workers place the bodies in a communal grave.

For six sunrises they searched the demolished village for survivors. The blackened remains of Taloxville's buildings no longer smoke, but a miasma blending the stench of death and charred flesh hangs over the area.

He forces his exhausted body to its feet. They should be done by this nightfall. He trudges toward the area set up with foodstuff, glad to see the other patients he passes are resting and appear stable. The Lady willing, they will lose no more this sunrise. He reaches the table and pours himself a mug of yerba mate and peppermint tea.

"Nor Geramn, Shaman Tera asks that I tell you they will be ready to transport the last patients after midday meal." The blond youth tugs at his forelock as Geramn looks up.

"Lamal? When did you return?"

"Only a bit ago, I came back with the Shaman." Lamal's grief-stricken gaze turns toward where the pit workers dig trenches for the bodies. "I brought additional shovels."

"How do those at Assuran fare?"

"We lost seven more since I transported there, but Healer Derness says the rest should recover."

"Any reports of additional attacks?"

"No, although, there was a sighting. South of Assuran, of a covey of twenty or so Volastoque." Lamal lowers a canvas pack from his back and opens the flap. He withdraws a folded piece of parchment. "Your mate asked me to give this to you."

He nods his thanks and takes the note, his throat tightening as he fears bad news, and reads:

Geramn,

I hope this reaches you and that you are well. The children and I shall leave this nightfall for the caverns at Kitloch. They say it is no longer safe to remain here.

Rumors hold that towns to the north of us are decimated. I know that Preloch, Kelville and Hadderton have been abandoned. Your sister is here with us, and Tecla said Preloch was razed to the ground under the attacks.

I have had word that your parents and Detril with his family are already at Kitloch. Of your brother Derk there is no news.

It is more than three dramas since the attacks on Valtown, yet still no word from my own family. I remain hopeful, as communication is erratic at best from any location.

That said, word is the human fatalities range from sixty to as high as one hundred percent in the attacks. With high rates of casualties amongst the survivors. Tecla said the dragons are not fairing any better.

My heart, I fear for the continued existence of our people.

I pray that we have the means to survive this. Please, take care of yourself and come back to me whole.

Your loving mate,

Sheina

Geramn releases the breath he had held as he read the message and takes a sip of tea. All in all, as good news as he can hope for in these times. He glances up to see Lamal lingering a few steps away.

The youth gestures at the note, his green eyes filled with sorrow in spite of the bland smile he offers. "She told me they leave for Kitloch. As soon as we are finished here, Taloxville survivors are to be transported there as well. If you like, I can carry a reply."

"That would be kind of you." Folding the note, he places it in his tunic pocket. "But I have no means to write a reply."

Lamal opens his pack and withdraws a packet of writing supplies. "Use what you need. I can get more when I arrive at Kitloch."

"My thanks; I shall return them before we leave." He accepts the packet and tucks it in his tunic. "Lamal, you should go through and see if you can find any important records. There was no time to do so before your people were transported."

Lamal nods, tugging at a lock of hair on his forehead, and turns to walk toward one of the building's remains.

Geramn picks up his tea and plods over to one of the few remaining trees in the village. He lowers himself to sit against the old oak and leans his head back to stare up through its near-naked branches at the vivid blue sky. He closes his eyes for a moment, squirming against the tree's rough bark as he tries to get comfortable.

He opens his eyes to the demolished town of Taloxville sprawling before him like a slaughtered ox. The guts of the town, the administrative buildings and town hall, spew their contents across the cobblestone courtyard where people dropped them in their scramble to flee. It is obvious the town was laid out with functionality as well as beauty in mind. Many cozy gardens abound, once filled with flowering plants, bushes, and statuary with benches. Now the benches are crushed, the statuary shattered, and the plant life wilted and shredded.

He knows the rest of the town has undergone a similar fate. In the search for survivors, he has seen most of the town. He sips his tea, trying to come to terms with the devastation before him, and that of the other three towns and villages he has helped in this moon alone. Taloxville actually has less damage; two of the other locations were virtually flattened with no survivors. Those places, the dragons and Shaman had not arrived in time.

Placing his mug beside him on the ground, he opens Lamal's package, finding a small, smooth board at the top to be used as a writing surface. He extracts it and places it on his lap, sitting cross-legged to balance it. He stares at the blank parchment for several moments, then begins.

My Dearest Sheina,

You have no idea how much receiving your message has lightened my heart. Know that I am well and have sustained no injury. I have worked with the injured here at Taloxville for six sunrises, we shall be finished today. Lamal can fill you in on details, but suffice to say the losses here were tragic, though the Shaman and dragons did drive the Volastoque off in the end.

It is my understanding that all towns, villages, and any people found on the countryside are to take refuge in one of three cavern locations. Perhaps at Kitloch you can find, or find word of, your family. The caverns will be protected. It relieves me to know you and our children will be safe. I pray that you shall receive word that your family is well and ask that you pass on to mine that I am doing fine.

Geramn pauses, taking a sip of the tea, and ponders how to express his feelings. He does not want to cause her more worry. He and Sheina have never been ones to proclaim their love verbally or in writing. The soft touch of a hand, the lingering glance... those were always sufficient to show his feelings. Yet, the Lady forbid that he or she is lost in this struggle, he does not want to miss the opportunity to tell his mate how much he loves her.

He sets his mug down and continues.

Over the last four moons, I have seen such tragic losses, families obliterated or torn apart. Repetitively, the injured or dying have asked word of their love be taken to their mates, children, or parents.

Know that I have every intention of returning to your loving arms. Should that not be my fate, I do not want to have left things unsaid. You have given me more happiness in our marriage than I can ever express. Our lives together, and our children, are the sweet breath that gives my body life. I long to hold you in my arms once again, but know that I hold you in my heart forever.

The words blur beneath his gaze and he brushes his forearm across his damp eyes. Taking a shuddering breath, he continues.

Stay safe, my love, and give each of our children a kiss for me.

Geramn

His chest aching, he blows on the ink to dry it, and then folds the parchment. Assembling the package and fastening it closed, he leans back against the tree. Exhaustion threatens to force him to the oblivion of sleep, so he struggles to his feet. He can rest after the injured are transported.

Tucking the parchment in his pocket and the package under his arm, he picks his mug up and goes to find Lamal.

# Chapter 4

"We have to take our destiny in hand. I am telling you, Shaman Hern, the paths of our future are filled with loss and sorrow. Only one presents itself that shows any chance for survival for the Palmir People." The mystic's eyes glow with her calling as she paces before him.

Hern runs an aching hand though his hair and shakes his head. "What you present me with is no choice at all."

Mystic Gelia stops across the table from him, slams both hands, palm down, on the smooth tabletop and leans toward him. "The Lady has presented us with the lesser of the evils; she has shown a means for survival."

"Survival?" Hern shakes his head wearily. "I would barely call it that. These visions show the annihilation of dragons as a species, and death of another forty percent of the surviving Palmir People, as well as the loss of all Shaman. You speak of this as a viable plan, with so much sacrifice?"

Gelia's face is haunted as she meets his gaze, unflinching. "And survival of sixty percent of the remaining Palmir People, a seed to ensure the continuation of our culture."

"You ask that I send the Shaman and the dragons to a battle that I know means their certain death. Yet you say I cannot tell them."

"Foreknowledge could, and most likely would, change the results. We could lose all of them and still not secure any future for those who remain." She slumps into a chair, her long brown hair cascading forward to sheet her face. Her voice is barely above a whisper as she continues. "I wish there were another way. Other Mystics and I have searched for another path... They all lead to complete annihilation, except this one."

"Still, the Lady cannot mean for this decision to be made by a few and paid for by many." Hern pauses, his mind shrinking from the horror either choice holds. "I must speak with the dragon leaders. It is not our place to send their kind forth to annihilation to purchase the lives and future of our people."

The Mystic shoves her hair back and glares into his eyes. "Do you not think we have already considered that?" She jerks one hand up and makes a broad gesture across the room. "I have sat in a chair right alongside all the counsel members and worried and worked to find the means to safeguard all." Her hand slams down with a resounding smack on the table. "I would give my life to find another way." Silence fills the room for several heartbeats. "There is no other way, much as we wish it so."

"Is it clear where this attack will be?"

"Only that it is not here, as there is no cloak barrier. Each Mystic who has had this vision agrees there is a body of water nearby, but that is true of both of the other cavern locations."

"And when this will occur? Is that clear?"

Mystic Gelia shakes her head. "Not for certain, yet we feel the crossroads of fate drawing close. It will be before another summer reaches this land."

The gnarled fingers of Hern's right hand trace the swirls of the wood grain in the tabletop. He is no Mystic, yet he too has felt the ensnarement with the Volastoque builds toward a crescendo.

Barely above a whisper, Gelia's words drift across the table. "You can use your power to compel this."

His eyes jerk up to meet her gaze, horror filling his soul. "Never. Never would I use the Lady's gift in such a manner."

"Why else do you think the Lady gave those with affinity to the yellow crystal such power?" She gestures to the crystal pendant hanging from Hern's neck. "She gave you the mental ability to force actions on another. Surely this is the purpose for that power."

His head shaking in violent denial, Hern responds through teeth clenched in anger. "No. The power to compel is the balance the Lady gives us to thwart those the Volastoque use as minions to move amongst us. Only when a man, or dragon, is under the influence of the barb is the use of the yellow crystal justified." He slams his hand upon the table. "That is one of our oaths we vow upon taking up training with the yellow crystal. You suggest I invalidate a sacred trust to do any different."

"I recall to your mind, it was Shaman, not the Lady, who instituted such an oath." Gelia stands, her body stiff and regal in her bearing as she glares down at him. "Perhaps _this_ is the event for which the Lady entrusted such power into your hands. I pray you are not blinded by tradition so that you do not see the only path the Lady lays out before you to save our people." She turns and with majestic dignity exits the chamber.

Hern's hands tremble as he lifts his crystal and stares into its yellow depth's. He is a first generation Shaman. It was in his twenty-third winter when the Lady led him and a handful of others to the discovery of the use of the crystals. How many times since then has he struggled to understand Her intention for this power to compel given with the yellow crystal? Or wished his affinity had been to one of the other crystals? The Lady guided them to the use of five crystals. The amber gives the ability to heal; green, teleportation; blue bestows killing powers; and red users were granted defense powers. Any of those he could have felt comfortable using in defense of the Palmir People. But this, mental ability to force actions on another... it still sits uneasily with him.

Hern sighs and tucks the crystal back into the neck of his tunic. His gnarled finger traces a whirl in the smooth wooden surface of the table. He has come to understand the Lady's guidance usually has a purpose. Dragons also came under the Lady's guiding hand. With her direction, the peaceful co-existence of the Palmir People alongside the dragons grew into a strong alliance within his own lifetime. Becoming allies is perhaps the only reason the two species still survived after six winters of Volastoque attacks.

"Shaman Hern."

He raises his eyes to see Shaman Jadrun enter the chamber. He smiles at his protégée, noting how much Jadrun too has aged in the last six winters. The man who stands before him carries the reflection of many sorrows in his moss-green eyes. "Please, sit. It is good to see you outside of Council business. What can I do for you, Jadrun?"

Jadrun ignores the offer to sit and paces before him. "I came to request time to search for my mate."

"Yes, you said in the meeting that Blanche is missing?"

Jadrun gives an abrupt nod, his eyes shadowed in pain when he adds, "Herlan is dead. His twin, Montello survives."

He shuts his eyes as sorrow washes over him at the loss of Jadrun's son, his namesake. Hern was close to Jadrun's family, but Herlan was especially dear to him. "How?"

"They were in last drama's convoy, the unescorted one that the Volastoque attacked in the foothills below the caverns at Burick Lake. The beasts scattered the convoy. Montello and Herlan survived the initial assault." Jadrun jerks out a chair and throws himself into it. His fists thump upon the hand-rubbed wooden surface. "Herlan succumbed to injuries before they could make the cavern. No one knows Blanche's fate."

"By the Lady, I am so sorry, Jadrun."

"I need your help."

"Just speak and you shall have it."

"I must go look." Jadrun wrenches his hands to press the side of his head and stares at the dark tabletop for a heart beat. "I have to know." He raises his head and his eyes pierce Hern. "Those who made it to Burick Cavern said no one else could have survived. They have already sent two searches to the area." Jadrun's voice drops to a gruff whisper. "I have transported there and searched, but with my duties I can only do so for a handspan of hours at a time. I must find her, or her body. I cannot leave it this way."

"Of course, take what time--"

"Three sunrises. I have to leave for Taloxville to relieve the transportation Shaman there in three sunrises. I shall seek Blanche until then."

"Perhaps there is a way you can be relieved of your duties."

"No, we have too few transport Shaman as it is. When word comes of a Volastoque assault on a town, village, or convoy, we are all needed to transport in the dragons. Even one fewer transport Shaman available to take the defense Shaman and dragons in could result in hundreds of lives lost." Jadrun shakes his head. "My Blanche would not wish me to sacrifice the lives of others to find her." His heart in his throat, Jadrun barely chokes out, "I have three days to search—if I cannot find her... well, I must accept she is lost to us."

"I shall pray for your success."

Jadrun shakes his head. "I do not place much faith in prayers lately. It seems the Lady has turned a deaf ear to our needs. However I would ask that you watch over Montello. He is here."

"Of course, I shall have Montello join the groups of boys who aid in the Healing cavern. He will be safe and it will give him something to occupy his mind."

"My thanks." Jadrun starts to rise.

Hern reaches to place his hand atop Jadrun's, stilling him. "You know I love that boy as I would a grandson. You have no reason to fear for Montello, I will take care of him for you."

"I know." Jadrun clasps his hand and gives it a brief squeeze, then turns to leave.

"And Jadrun? Please take care of yourself, for my old heart cares deeply for you as well. Return safe, with your mate."

Jadrun pauses at the door. "Every fiber of my being hopes the same. I shall see you upon my return." He exits and Hern allows himself a moment to mourn the loss of Herlan and prays for Jadrun's success in his quest.

~!~

The first streaks of dawn paint the sky as Maru steps out of the tunnel and upon the ledge in front of their lair. Filling his lungs with the clean, crisp morning air, he sends a heart-felt prayer to the Lady in thanks for the new day and asks She guide him in a successful hunt for game to fill his family's needs.

He stretches. His entire body is stiff and his shoulder screams a protest at each movement. He ignores the pain and continues to rotate the shoulder, limbering the tight joint.

The past six winters have made him accustomed to the discomforts of recovering from wounds. His once-smooth, black body shows multiple ridges where old scars have healed. For a moment, he yearns for the simpler life, before their kind became allies of the humans. Not that humans were unworthy allies.

He grimaces as the shoulder grinds, but he must continue to loosen it until he has enough range of motion to attempt flight.

Jagged crags and peaks tower around their ledge, casting it into a deep shadow. Below him tree limbs reach skyward, loosing their riotous color as their tattered leaves cling and flicker like banners in the brisk autumn breeze. He and Aura have been happy here. Raising their clutches and for the most part simply enjoying mated life. They seldom even involved themselves in the affairs of their own kind, past socialization.

Until the Volastoque.

Last nightfall's fog dissipates; only a few scraps remain settled in the deeper hollows across the mountainside. He stays in the yawning shadow of the ledge, working his shoulder, as his gaze methodically searches the landscape for the creatures.

The Volastoque attacks starting six winters ago, on the northernmost portions of the dragon's territory and lands of the Palmir People, destroyed their simple life. The creatures came in coveys of at least a score and annihilated all dragons and humans in their path. Initially, the two species fought their own battles, each settlement or territory of lairs mounting its own defense. And losing. Virtually all of those initial invasions resulted in few if any survivors. It was Yalkin, one of the most respected elders of dragonkind, who suggested the alliance with humans. Over that first winter, the alliance solidified and organized the current defense strategies. The surprise emergence from within the Palmir People of the powerful Shaman Society had perhaps been the salvaging factor in their resistance. Without the Shaman using the crystals to support and transport the dragons, all would have been lost in that first winter.

The warble of birdsong drifts across the treetops. Maru raises his triangular-shaped head to point his nose into the breeze. He draws a deep breath through his nostrils, giving close attention to the rainbow of scents. The familiar reek of the creature does not taint the air. A handful of fluffy clouds ride high in the sky and he scrutinizes them. They scoot across the blue expanse, appearing innocent enough. He cannot see any sign of Volastoque hidden in their depths.

Finally satisfied, he steps to the edge and launches. A sharp, grinding pain strikes his shoulder the moment his wings catch the air and intensifies as he rises with strong wing thrusts. He clears the surrounding cliffs and his neck swivels around to inspect his shoulder.

The wound is closed; the Healer's treatment before he left Taloxville repaired the worst of the damage. Healer Geramn performed two Healings and told him to rest, to allow the joint time to mend. He had thought to rest when he got home. His shoulder is still grossly swollen, the movement beneath his scales jerky in comparison to the left shoulder. He steels himself against the pain and turns his head south, angling his wings in that direction.

There may still be geese in the marshes behind Yarro Lake. The distance would have precluded Aura hunting there, as the only defense of the nest; she could not leave them that long. This late in the season, geese would be layered in fat against the upcoming winter. The sun sits a handspan high on the horizon when he reaches the lake. Maru sends a prayer of thanks to the Lady when the body of water, with thousands of geese dotting its surface, comes into view.

Hardening himself against the pain, he locks his wings, arrowing down toward the lake. Honks fill the air as panicked geese take flight. He scoops four up on his first pass, crushing them in his mouth and dropping their mangled corpses on shore before he swings around for another pass. Geese rise from the lake like a swarm of mosquitoes. He snags five on the second round, two of them flay against the side of his muzzle as he crunches their lower bodies between his sharp teeth. He manages five passes before the flock scatters too much to make an attempt worthwhile.

He searches the skyline for Volastoque, then gathers the geese into one pile, twenty-two and all of them fine, fat geese. He settles on his haunches beside the catch and pulls one from the pile. Feathers tickle the roof of his mouth as sweet, warm blood coats his tongue while he consumes the goose with relish. One of his favorites, for he loves the slick feeling the fat leaves on the surfaces of his mouth.

A score of the braver, or dumber, geese land back on the lake. The males keep a watchful eye on him as their females continue to feed on aquatic plants and schools of minnows darting near the surface. Maru's stomach rumbles as he finishes the goose, demanding more to eat. He glances at the geese; many of the males have resumed feeding. Dumber, he decides as he launches into another attack. Six more geese fall to his attacks before they are once again scattered.

Maru plops four onto the pile and consumes the other two as he casts a vigilant gaze across his surroundings. The sky has cleared; the azure expanse holds nothing except the geese and a single eagle hunting to the west. The long marsh grass beneath his feet has begun to yellow, the heads heavy with seeds. Late-blooming harkipan bushes are abuzz with insects and bees invading the sweet-smelling purple blooms to harvest the last of the season's bounty. Yarin trees line the shore near him, their gnarled roots reaching into the lake and their twisted branches laden with long, orange seed pods. Seed pods that should have been harvested long ago. Yarin seeds, pounded into flour, were a staple for the Palmir People. Their presence gave mute testimony to the toll of the on-going battle. So many humans have fallen to the Volastoque that the few who remain have not reached this area to harvest.

Maru tries to shake off the melancholy that pervades his mind as he thinks of the numbers of dragons and humans lost. The humans have begun calling the Volastoque incursion _The Plague from the North_ , for the beasts rip across the land annihilating all in their path—like a swarm of locusts. His sire, dam, and all but two of his siblings have died in the battles as have all the offspring of his and Aura's previous clutches. Only the eight in this clutch still live.

Maru rises, fortified by the fat-laden geese and resolute to provide for his hatchlings. They _will_ survive. His mouth is filled to over-flowing when he picks up the pile of twenty-five geese. His thoughts focusing on getting this meal to his offspring, his opens his wings. Two powerful thrusts have him airborne. He sweeps north, the sweet aroma of the geese's blood masking a familiar musky stench, like putrefied mushrooms, wafting up from the marshes below.

# Chapter 5

Elish rubs a weary hand across his eyes and stumbles into the boy's dormitory. The oblong orbs set in the ceiling give off a faint glow; someone has dimmed them to twilight setting. His sleeping platform is at the rear of the spacious chamber. Most of the beds standing in four rows, two to each side of the wide central aisle, are empty. A few hold blanket-covered lumps. Some of these resonate with snores, others with soft, choking sobs.

Elish swallows hard through a constricting throat and hurries past the bed occupants who cry. The urge to do so himself is never far from the surface since his arrival here three dramas ago. He forces anger to squelch the temptation to join them in curling up in his bed to sob. He has already done enough of that.

He still suffers the dreams. The memories which fade with the light of day lurk to pounce upon his night. Vivid dreams filled with images of flames scorching across the sky as dragons battled the wretched creatures that slaughtered his family.

The dreams always start with the sensation of his cheek, pressed into the rough grain of the pickle barrel he crouched behind as the screams outside were cut off by Killer Frost that raked across the villagers. His dama calling his name had drawn him from the provision room. On trembling limbs, his mouth dry with fear, he crawled toward the door that still stood open and wide as he left it when he had entered to get the yarin flour his dama sent him to fetch.

The kitchen was empty, the ingredients his dama prepared just moments ago abandoned on the table. He half-rose from his crouch and rushed across the empty room to kneel by the door.

He peered out the door. Bodies filled the street, the orange glow of the setting sun shimmered on the crust of frost covering them. Hurley, the Farrier, strode down the street, a blazing torch in one hand and a pail in the other. The surge of relief that filled Elish was short-lived. Hurley splashed oil from the bucket against the glazier's shop and ignited it with his torch. The Farrier blithely strode on to the next building and once again ignited the wooden structure.

Elish fled as Hurley splashed the last of the oil in the bucket against a front corner of his home. Elish caught a brief glimpse of Hurley's face when the large man laid the torch against the oil. Hurley's eyes and expression reflected horror at his own actions, yet he still held the torch to the oil splatter long enough to ensure it burst into flames.

Elish stops beside his sleeping platform, for a moment paralyzed with the same fear that always brought him out of his dream to bolt upright in his bed drenched in a cold sweat.

Once again, he feeds his anger, building a rage inside to squelch the jagged edge of fright that made him a shaking, frightened rabbit.

He stares at his bed, knowing he desperately needs to sleep, yet dreading the onset of the dream. Elish shuffles to the side of his bed, tugs the covers down, and lowers himself to sit. His hand slides into his pocket, pulls out a small pouch, and he fumbles with the tie. He manages to open the small pouch and spills six balls about the size of a robin's egg, made of valerian herb mixed with nut paste, into his hand. He pops two into his mouth and returns the others to the pouch, drawing the string to close it, and returns it to his pocket.

By the time he has his footwear off, the herb has begun its work. Not bothering to change into a nightshirt, he slumps to his bed and tugs the covers over his head. The tension in his body abates as the herb leaches into his system.

His dama's image fills his mind's eye. The sharp line of her jaw when he annoyed her, the glossy texture of her long, black hair as it cascaded over him when she took him into her soft embrace. It took no effort to recall everything about her, down to her scent, a mixture of a touch of yarin from the breads she baked and her own warm, soft skin.

A deep sigh escapes his lips as Elish burrows his face into the pillow and falls into a peaceful herb-induced sleep.

~!~

Jadrun trudges up the incline; his weary eyes search the gullies and beneath evergreen trees. Three dragons, their bodies glittering in the fading light of late evening, make low sweeps across the area, part of the search parties. "Blanche!" His voice emerges without much volume; he shouted himself hoarse over the last three sunrises.

Bodies. All he found in his search is bodies.

Yet, his mate has not been among them. By the Lady, he wishes that guaranteed she would yet be found alive. However... the other two alternatives he could not bear to contemplate.

He reaches the hill's crest and shades his eyes against the setting sun to inspect the valley before him. The valley rolls in gentle curves, the skeletal branches of yarin, oak, and maple reaching skyward in clumps. The evergreens of the higher slopes are not evident except in small patches. Two other searchers work their way across the valley.

By the Lady, he is exhausted. For the last three sunrises he has searched from dawn till dusk. Jadrun slumps down to sit upon a boulder. The warmth of the rock seeps into the fabric of his pants and warms his behind and the back of his legs.

A call from the valley jolts him to his feet. Focusing on the man who rushes across a meadow, Jadrun transports. He blinks into existence behind the man, who continues to run toward a pile of fallen trees. Rushing to follow, Jadrun sees a scrap of red cloth through the twisted branches of the deadwood.

His heart lurches into his throat when a low feminine moan emanates from beneath the fallen tree trunks. The other man reaches the pile and falls to his knees to peer within the scramble of trunks. "Here now, we are here to help."

Jadrun joins him leaning down to try to see who is hidden beneath the limbs. Brown hair, so not Blanche. Disappointment crashes through him even as he finds gratification in finding someone alive.

Heart-wrenching sobs come from beneath the pile as a young woman crawls toward them. Jadrun grasps one arm, damaged by Killer Frost, and helps her extract herself from the pile. He is no Healer, but the woman obviously needs immediate care. The other searcher helps her with a water flask and the young woman gulps down several swallows.

"Nora, are you injured anywhere except your arm?" Jadrun keeps his voice low and soothing.

"I think my leg is broken." She uses one grime-covered hand to sweep the hair from across her blue eyes and takes more water.

Jadrun glances at the stout young man who was the other searcher. "I am a Shaman, I can transport her to the Healing caverns."

The man nods, grasps the young woman by her waist, and gently extracts her from the pile. "What is your name? I will notify them we have found you and where the Shaman takes you."

"Cida. My mate, Fellan, did he make it safely to the cavern?"

The man shakes his head. "I do not know, Nora Cida." He turns his gaze to Jadrun.

"I have no idea, I was searching for my mate, Blanche."

"I know Blanche."

His gaze pierces the young woman. "Did you see what became of her in the attack?"

Her blue eyes are filled with sorrow as she meets his gaze. "I saw her, she and one of your twins loaded your injured son into a cart." She shakes her head. "A Volastoque swept toward them and she fell as the cart sped away. She screamed for the well one to remain with the other and see to his care." She shakes her head. "I caught a glimpse of her as she fled with another group of people escaping into the hills. Beyond that, I know not, as I lost sight of her in the havoc."

Jadrun nods, taking comfort that his mate apparently survived the initial assault. "Nora, if you are ready, I will transport you?"

At her nod, he grasps her arm then meets the eyes of the other searcher. "I shall take her to Kitloch, as I am expected there this nightfall to return to my duties."

"Cida, mate to Fellan, I shall tell them where to find her." He gives the woman a faint smile. "Rest easy, Nora, I will see that your mate gets the message as soon as I can."

Jadrun gives her a reassuring smile as he focuses his transportation powers. He calls upon the three elements of man—body, soul, and spirit—as he draws energy from his green crystal. A tingle washes across his body when his crystal attunes to his desires and he focuses his thoughts on the Healing cavern at Kitloch. In his mind's eye he gathers the strands of power produced by the crystal and thrusts them toward Kitloch. Every cell in his body vibrates as the transportation commences and they ride the surge of power to the Healing cavern at Kitloch.

~!~

Maru angles low across the meadow. The ripe scents of autumn assail his nostrils as he inhales deep of the crisp air. A steep dive and he snatches up two deer from the center of the clearing. The dear struggle beneath him until, with a resounding crack, his claws break their backs. With powerful wing thrusts he rises above the tree line on the other side of the clearing. He cants slightly to the right, favoring his shoulder as he flies a circle to turn toward his lair.

His third successful hunt this sunrise. The hatchlings gorged on the geese and deer he already brought. Once his mate feeds until replete, he will rest. The throb in his shoulder dulls to an ache as steady wing strokes propel him toward home. His hunt has taken him far afield, as Aura hunted out the area close to their lair in her efforts to keep the hatchlings fed.

His eyes narrow as he searches the crags and peaks below. Autumn moves rapidly across the Renault Mountains. The verdant colors of summer had only just burst into reds and golds when he left for the battles and already the trees shed their rainbow cloaks, only a meager few leaves still clinging to their branches. The mountainside is quiet, no sign of trouble.

Mounds of clouds drift across the sky, the tops white as snow with deep grey undersides. He catches a flicker of movement beneath one cloud and he jerks his head that direction. Only an eagle. The steady thrum of his wings is the only sound as he turns his gaze back to the mountains. Far in the distance, the familiar lofty crest his lair rests behind comes into view.

" _Maru. Help."_ Aura's Mindspeak is faint but frantic. _"I cannot hold them off much longer."_

" _Aura."_ The deer plunge groundward as he releases them and tucks his legs, his neck straightening out as he thrusts his wings with all his might.

" _Thank the Lady. Hurry, there are too many of them."_ He hopes it is only the distance that makes her Mindspeak weak.

" _I am coming."_

Adrenaline surges through him and he doubles his speed. Small tan specks, swirling above his home ridge, cause his heart to hammer in his chest. Volastoque. At least six of the creatures. The trees below blur as he pelts across the mountain, pushing his body for every ounce of speed.

The Volastoque are mature beasts. The sun glints off each beast's enormous four wings and body plates of deep tan and mauve. Jets of white shoot from some of their open maws and Maru flinches, knowing that Killer Frost can render a dragon defenseless.

A flash of green shoots from the west and he realizes Kilita has heard Aura and joins the battle. Smoke spirals from his nostrils as his battle fire ignites. The screech of his mate rings across the distance and rage fuels his wing thrusts and he finally passes the last ridge.

Three of the six Volastoque have turned their attention to Kilita. They twirl around her, swooping in and raking claws across the emerald dragon.

The other three Volastoque harry his mate, their harsh cries taunting her and dividing her attention. Aura blocks the entrance to the tunnel, her mahogany form streaked with blood from gashes across her back and neck. Pale patches mark where the beasts' Killer Frost hit her wings, rendering them limp at her sides.

Maru folds his wings and dives, his talons extended, toward the Volastoque in the center. His mouth yawns wide and flames shoot to engulf the beast on his right a heartbeat before he crashes into his target. His claws fasten on the center creature's neck and the upper edge of one wing. His muscles burn as he forces his own wings down, jerking sideways to fling the Volastoque against the vertical rock face.

Its agonized screech is cut short as it splats against the stone, crumples and slides down, leaving crimson streaks on the rock face. Pain knifes through his shoulder as Maru flips head over tail, surging away from the cliff.

The brute with one scorched wing plummets toward Maru, Killer Frost streaming from his maw. Maru folds his body sideways, and the stream misses. The stench of putrefied mushrooms mingles with burnt flesh as the creature slams into Maru, sinking its serrated teeth into the base of his neck.

Agony scorches through his body as the Volastoque back-wings, jerking its head from side to side, gnawing flesh and scales. Maru swings his neck around, sinking his teeth into one of its wings. His teeth shred the wing membrane, ripping down the entire length. He bites again and manages to latch onto another of the creature's four wings at its base. His jaw muscles bulge as he clamps his teeth together, shattering the bone.

Screaming in agony, the Volastoque opens its mouth and releases Maru's neck. The tawny dual-wings flail as Maru thrusts the beast away. It tumbles and crashes into the treetops far below.

Panting, Maru glances at his mate. She seems to be holding her own against the third creature, so he turns to aid Kilita.

The emerald dragon is tiring. Blood streams from long open wounds along her length. He trumpets a challenge to draw the creatures away. Two turn at his challenge. The larger of the two whips its tail and flings a barb at Maru. He dodges the venomous projectile and belches out a column of fire, but the creature folds its wings, plummeting groundward, and the fire misses.

The second beast crashes into Maru. Their wings entangle as its claws shear across his ridge plates, ripping scales but unable to find purchase. Dragging in a deep draught of air, Maru blasts the creature full in the face with flames. Its forked tongue sizzles, shriveling to curl back into its mouth. Its eyes burst, boiling eye fluid turning into vapor and the beast recoils in agony.

Maru breaks free from the entanglement as the blinded beast flutters sideways. An impact from below doubles him over as the larger Volastoque slams into him. Its sharp claws leave six wide gashes in his belly as it strikes then shoots off again.

Reeling, in pain, Maru struggles to remain airborne. A frigid blast pours across his right wing tip. The last one-third of his wing stiffens, making it even harder for him to fly. His vision blurred from pain, he searches the sky for his adversary.

A shadow jerks his gaze skyward in time to see the beast plunge toward him out of the sun. At the last moment, he flips, sinking all four talons into the thin plates of the creature's underbelly. Clinching, his sharp talons rip in. With all his might, he contorts his body, wrenching chunks of flesh and plates free as he shoves his wings down and strives to break clear. Reeling, the Volastoque snaps its enormous jaws, snagging Maru's right wing.

Agony rakes across his wing. Locked together they spin, crashing into the trees below. Branches batter Maru and his head cracks against a massive trunk. Then darkness enfolds him and he struggles no more.

# Chapter 6

"Are you going to stay in there much longer?"

Trella opens her eyes to see a human child staring at her from the bank of the pond. One diminutive hand of the girl rests on her hip the other grasps a cane-pole as her blue eyes pierce Trella in exasperation.

Trella glances around. The child is alone. _"I usually soak for some time after I bathe."_

The girl steps back, a look of surprise lighting her face when she hears Trella's Mindspeak. She shakes her head then says, "You are scaring the fish. As long as you float in there, they will not bite."

Trella peers into the green-tinted water of the pond to see schools of fish darting beneath the surface. She has to agree, they did look too agitated to feed. She glances back at the girl. Ah, the child wishes to hunt fish. Trella has seen humans pulling fish from ponds with such a pole and line.

Her long neck swings around and with a quick thrust she scoops a number of fish into her mouth. Completing the swing she opens her mouth at the last moment and slings them toward the bank. Ten or so fish land amongst the deluge of water to flop on the grass. _"Are those sufficient for thy needs?"_

"Argh!" The girl swipes her hand across her face, sheeting away water. "You stupid yellow lizard, you soaked me!"

Trella's eyes fly wide in surprise. She looks at the dripping wet child. Stupid yellow lizard? Did the child not know she addresses a dragon? _"I hardly think—"_

"Thanks, I guess." The girl stomps to the fish and, picking up a stone, efficiently dispatches them. "It would have taken me hours to catch this many. Although, I _was_ looking forward to fishing here for the last time this season."

" _Thou is welcome."_ Trella falls silent, unsure what to make of this child. She could not be more than ten winters old. Trella searches the area around the pond. Humans that age are still in the nest, where is her dama? Bringing the fish to the water, the girl pulls a knife from a sheath on her belt and begins to scale and gut the fish. She rinses the blood and bile off into the water.

Grimacing, Trella watches as the fish scales and offal float toward her. She swims quickly to the shore and climbs out. She does not want that muck on her clean scales.

The girl shakes her head. "If you were getting out anyway, I could have fished."

" _I was not. At least, not until thou fouled the water."_ Trella strides a ways into the meadow and shakes excess water off her lithe form.

The girl looks up from her work, pushing brown hair back from her eyes with the back of a blood-grimed hand. "You are a pretty gold color. Reminds me of the daffodils in spring."

" _Thank thee. Where are thy parents?"_

The child drops her eyes back to her task. "Not here."

" _I can see that. Should thou not be with them, preparing for departure?"_

"I am not going."

" _Not going? But all must leave. We escort ye to sanctuary."_

The girl lays the fish she has finished in a neat row with two others already completed and grabs another to de-scale. "I am going to stay in a cabin in the woods." She gestures toward the hills covered in trees a distance away. "My sire laid in plenty of dried meats and grains before—" She shakes her head again. "There is plenty there to keep me through two or even three winters. Especially since I can set snares and fish for myself. But, it should not take that long."

" _Child, thou must leave with the other humans. It is not safe to remain here."_

The girl sends a scathing glare her direction. "I am not a child. I am thirteen winters old, and my name is Pearlitta."

Trella turns her head to the side and studies Pearlitta. Not a child—a hatchling—no, but at thirteen winters, the humans did not consider that the age of an adult either. A youngling then, with the maturity to learn skills and hunt, yet not ready to be without guidance. _"Please to meet thee, Pearlitta. I am Trella. Thou has insufficient winters to remain here alone."_

"I do not see what concern that is of yours." Pearlitta continues to clean the fish, turning her back on Trella.

Trella settles to the soft grass of the meadow, unsure what to say to or do about this young female. She watches as Pearlitta efficiently finishes cleaning the fish. The girl washes her hands, then begins to gather dead branches, snapping them into short lengths that she arranges in a shallow depression beside the pond. She wanders a short distance off to gather tinder and Trella ignites her battle flames. Pursing her lips to form a tight beam of fire, she exhales. The small pile of wood bursts into flames.

Pearlitta jumps, then casts Trella a wry grin. "That is a rather handy talent."

" _Dragons do not cook our food, I use my flames when in battle."_

"You seem to have lighting campfires down pat." Pearlitta cuts several green, limber lengths off a branch. She walks back to the fish and skewers the smallest upon the branches, poking one end of the stick into the ground where the fish remain in the smoke. "What else can you do that is helpful?"

Trella chuckles, finding herself more intrigued than insulted by this youngling. She glances around, then rises to grasp a large flat rock that lies half in the water. She moves it close to the campfire. _"Stand back."_

Pearlitta scrambles away and Trella pours her flames upon the stone. Steam rises as the stone dries and she continues to flame it until it is well heated. _"Thou should be able to cook the thicker fish upon this surface."_

The girl grins. "Thanks." She plucks a few handfuls of wild garlic from the shore of the pond. She smashes them with the edge of her knife, stuffs the cavities of the fish with the herb, and lays them upon the heated stone. The sizzle of fish cooking immediately fills the air. "Why are you here alone? The rest of the dragons are all near where the caravan forms."

" _I am not alone, my companion hunts. I chose this location for the quiet, and the pond."_ Trella settles back upon the ground, curling her tail around herself. _"Thou knows thy people leave to go to a place of safety. The Volastoque will come here, sooner or later, and thou will not be safe."_

The girl laughs. "Look at me; I am so small compared to you. Do you really think they will notice one small human from the skies?"

" _These creatures may lay thy town to waste, regardless if the people have fled."_

"I thought of that. That is why I am leaving for our cabin."

" _Thou should be with thy sire and dama."_

Pearlitta uses her knife to check the fish and flips a couple of them over. "My dama died, a while ago. My sire went on a trip, left me with the people who own this farm. He told me to wait for him." She flips her long brown hair back behind her shoulders as she peers up to meet Trella's gaze. "So I shall. I am leaving him a note telling him I will be at the cabin."

" _The family thy sire left thee with approve of this?"_

The girl's blue eyes turn away. "They can hardly miss that I am not with them, can they?" She stands. "Be right back."

The youngling hurries to a yarin tree in the adjacent orchard. The small, limber girl shinnies up a tree and uses her knife to cut several of the broad leaves that remain on the near-naked branches. She snatches the last orange pod remaining in that tree and hurries back to the fire. Pearlitta expertly pops open the yarin pod and scrapes seeds the size of her thumb pad onto the hot stone beside the cooking fish.

Trella finds herself amazed as this youngling adroitly prepares herself a meal. Once the seeds have roasted, Pearlitta uses one of the smaller broad leaves to scoop them back into their pod. Then she slips the leaf under the cooked fish and places two large portions on a broad leaf, the others she wraps carefully in the remaining leaves. She presses on the smoking fish with two fingers, but leaves them where they are.

Pearlitta settles with her back against a large rock and begins to eat with relish.

"I would offer you some, but you said you do not cook your food," Pearlitta says between bites.

Trella shakes her head and studies the minute human. Somehow, she must convince this child to leave with the rest of her people.

~!~

Sharp pain lances across his wing and shoulder, jolting Maru awake. Blurred grayish-brown slashes slowly come into focus as mangled tree limbs. His wing jerks and he screams from the pain.

" _I am sorry."_

" _Kilita?"_ He turns his head to the right, flinching as the base of his neck joins in the clamor of pain.

" _Remain still, I almost have it."_

The emerald dragon perches at an awkward angle amongst the shattered trees; her fore-talons grip the lower jaw of a Volastoque as she bites the upper portion. She takes shallow, quick breaths then wrenches the jaws apart, releasing Maru's wing. The beast tumbles free, jostling Maru. He fights against the wave of pain that threatens to plunge him back into oblivion.

" _Aura?"_

" _She lives."_

Relief washes through him and he succumbs to the encroaching darkness.

~!~

Kilita sighs as Maru's black head crashes back upon the twisted branches. It is best he is unconscious. She shoves the tawny body of the Volastoque; it wedges against the adjacent, undamaged trees for a moment before dropping six strides to the ground. Trembling with exhaustion, she takes Maru's damaged wing and gently folds it against his body.

Her gaze travels over his black body. He sprawls across a pile of shattered trees. His silver spinal ridge is scored with deep gouges, but not through the ridge plates. Two bite marks bead red crescents across the base of his neck. The strong odor of blood and the crimson swath on the trees beneath Maru indicate he sustained injuries to his lower body. She must turn him over, and get him off the sagging platform of busted trees.

Her gaze turns skyward. They are too exposed here. Neither of them would survive another attack. The blue sky is empty, the sun a handspan from its apex. She breathes a sigh of relief and returns her attention to Maru. Placing her talons with care, she edges along his side until she can reach across and grasp his left wing. With a firm grip, but careful not to twist the wing bones, she pulls. The trees beneath them groan as Maru shifts. Her muscles strain as she steps back, using the wing to leverage him over until he rests on his back.

She gasps when the long tears on his underside are revealed. Blood seeps out along the length of all six gashes, a steady ooze that will leach his life away.

She settles back on her haunches and ponders what to do. It is a full day's flight to the nearest Healer; he would not survive until she reaches help. Her fatigued mind wonders and her mind's eye pictures the slaughter at the lair.

She remained engaged with her opponent long after Maru fell, finally managing to slay him in a lucky strike that reaches his throat. Her jaw still aches from the effort to rip the life from the creature. The battle had taken her several ridges to the south. She had struggled slowly back to Maru and Aura's lair only to find the ledge empty. Aura nowhere in sight.

She swallows as she remembers the scene that greeted her eyes when she entered the nesting area. The hatchings lay slain. Their multi-hued bodies all twisted and strewn across the inner cavern like discarded waste. She had sobbed uncontrollably as she checked each of them for any signs of life. None.

Her calls to Aura went unanswered. She searched the area beneath the ledge and found only Volastoque dead. The two spent barbs lying on the ledge finally gave her an answer. Aura was under the control of the Volastoque. The venom in the barbs allows the creature to establish psychic dominance. The Volastoque had taken control of Aura, then slaughtered her children. Her stomach heaves, the thought making her physically ill.

How would she ever tell Maru?

Shaking her head, she forces her attention back to the wounds. He must survive first.

Taking a firm hold on her resolve, she ignites her inner fires. She turns her head away from him, shooting a flow of flame out above the trees. Concentrating, she shifts her mouth and tongue until it is a narrow stream. She adjusts her exhale, shortening the flame to a manageable length.

Every muscle in her body tightens as she turns the flames toward her friend. Moving the flame in a slow, steady pace, she sears the wounds. The blood bubbles, filling the air with the odor of burning flesh. The edges of the wounds curl and crisp as she cauterizes each one.

She slumps upon the branches as the last wound seals, leaving small trails of smoke lifting from its surface. Twilight descends as she lies there, unable to muster the strength to rise. Finally, she forces herself to stand.

Locking her jaw against her own aches, she works her way around Maru. With the last of her strength, she shoves his mass over the side of the platform. He rolls, tumbling to land in a sprawl beneath the adjoining trees.

She glances skyward. It would have to do. She has no strength to hide him any better. Wearily she allows herself to slide off the platform, using her wings to adjust her decent. Kilita crumples on the ground a short distance from Maru and gives in to sleep.

~!~

Trella glances up as Natal lands in the meadow beside the pond. The late afternoon sunlight plays across his carnation-red scales, setting the male dragon aglow. He shifts the deer he carries into his mouth from his front talons and struts across the space separating them.

" _Hunting is good in the hills, I brought thee a fresh-slain deer for thy evening repast."_ Natal places the carcass beside her and steps back several paces.

Trella does not even glance at the offering. She knows Natal's intentions, he wishes her to see him as a good provider. _"My thanks, but as I told thee, I do not need to feed."_

"You cannot mean to tell me that you intend to waste a perfectly good deer?" The high-pitched reproach comes from Pearlitta, where she sits beside her slowly-dying fire.

Natal jerks his head the child's direction. _"And who is this?"_

" _The child's name is Pearlitta."_

"I told you, I am not a child."

" _She intends to remain here nextday, when the convoy leaves."_

Natal tilts his head and gazes at Pearlitta, his eyes full of puzzlement. _"But, child, thou must accompany the other humans, it is not—"_

"I... am... not... a _child_." Pearlitta spits the words out and stomps over beside the deer. She peers up at Trella. "If you are not going to eat this deer your friend brought you, can I have it?"

" _I brought that for Trella to consume, so that she may bolster her strength for nextday's flight."_

Trella gazes at the red male for a moment. No, it will simply not do to let him think she is interested in his courtship, even if she does near the time she may mate. _"Since I do not hunger, of course thou may have it, Pearlitta."_

" _Trella, I brought it for thee."_ Natal's brow furrows as he gives the young human a disgruntled look.

" _If thou gives it to me, it is perfectly proper for me to give it to someone who will use it, since, as I said, I have no desire to feed."_

"My thanks, to both of you." Pearlitta kneels beside the carcass and begins to efficiently gut the doe. Her tongue protrudes slightly from her pursed lips as she concentrates on her task.

Natal grunts and moves a few strides away to settle upon his thorax, wrapping his tail around himself. _"How is thou going to carry that much meat by thyself all the way to where the convoy of the humans forms?"_

Pearlitta removes the liver and heart, placing them on the cooled flat stone by her low fire. "I do not have to go that far." She gestures with a blood-enrobed hand toward the low hills to the east. "My cabin is only over that second hill." Her gaze runs across the two of them. "Do either of you want these guts?"

Trella shakes her head and Natal grunts a negative reply.

"My sire said the guts were a dragon's favorite part of a deer." Pearlitta shrugs and, careful to keep the pile in the translucent membrane of the body cavity, she struggles with it to the pond and dumps it in.

" _Pearlitta, thou cannot remain here, nextday thou must leave with the others."_ Natal's eyes glimmer like molten gold in the low rays of the sun.

The girl strides back to the deer, kneeling to begin efficiently skinning it out. "We have already had this conversation." She tilts her head toward Trella. "Like I told her, it is none of your concern."

Trella keeps her eyes on the girl as she sends in private Mindspeak to Natal, _"We shall have to involve humans in charge. While the child labors with slaughtering this deer, go and get someone from the convoy, and bring them here."_

" _Enjoy thy deer, then."_ Natal stands and shakes out his immense wings. In two strides he is airborne. He does cut a fine figure against the setting sun, Trella muses, then turns her attention back to the girl.

# Chapter 7

Geramn's knuckles scrub across his chin stubble. He needs to shave and bathe before the Shaman returns to transport him. He gazes at the seven people still left in his and two other Healer's care. They found them two sunrises ago, when the Shaman was transporting the other survivors; a lone man stumbled into the village. He told of others that fled with him and now lay injured in a distant gully.

Geramn shakes his head, marveling at the twist fate had thrown in these people's path. They escaped the Volastoque attack upon Taloxville, only to fall victim to a rock slide where they hid. It took until this sunrise to stabilize most of them, and another five were lost—joining the communal grave.

He rises from his pallet and stretches. A good cup of tea and he will be set. That may have been the best sleep he has had in a moon or more. He wanders over where midday meal is set up and pours himself a mug of tea.

Platters of fried redfin and fried maizeballs fill the table, the pungent aroma of the fish filling the area. His stomach growls and reminds him he has not eaten since last nightfall. He selects several of the fish fillets, one of his favorites, and a handful of the maizeballs. He works his way over to one of the near-empty tables set up beside a crumbling wall that was once Taloxville's Healer's Hall and sets to his meal with gusto. The mild, flaky fish brings back memories of taking his two sons fishing. The boys would rather fish than breathe, or so his sire often commented.

He finishes and leans back in his chair, sipping on his tea. He shall request time to visit with his family. His gaze rolls across the destruction before him. The murmur of quiet conversations and the occasional cough are the only sounds. Not even birdsong breaks the gloom over the demolished village.

He needs to see his boys and his daughter. It has been too long. At eight and ten winters, his boys would miss him. But, his greatest concern is that little Rekia, at only one winter old, would forget her sire.

A dragon's bugle breaks his reverie and jerks his gaze to the south. A dark-green dragon flies with faltering strokes toward the village. Two Shaman jump from their meals and rush toward the plaza. Their gazes search the sky behind the dragon and their hands take on a blue glow of defense.

Geramn lurches to his feet to join the men running toward the open area at the east side of the courtyard. He waves the youngest Healer back to their patients, and gestures that Healer Frandem should accompany him. He moves with careful speed over the rough surface of the courtyard, avoiding the debris littering its stones.

" _I need a Healer."_ The dragon's Mindspeak rings through his head well before she lands.

The defense Shaman separate. Each moves to one side of the open area, arms extended with a blue pulse along their length. The ground beneath his feet shudders when the dragon lands. He reaches her before her wings fold. Her half-lidded golden eyes meet his gaze as she sags upon the ground.

" _Healer, thou must return with me. My friend needs thy skills."_

"Let me take a look at you." Geramn grabs a hold of her foreleg, his footwear slipping on the smooth scales as he scrambles up its length. Long scratches run along her dorsal crest and sides, with the scales pealed back to expose her almost black skin beneath. Several have places cut through but appear shallow, already scabbed over.

She turns her neck and the triangular-shaped head looms above him. _"I am fine. It is Maru who needs thy aide."_

"You are not fine." He gestures to her dull scales. "At the very least you are dehydrated." He scrambles over her dorsal crest to inspect the scrapes on the other side. "Your wounds should have a salve to prevent infection and speed healing."

The massive head above his sways side to side. _"No, there is no time. Maru is in far worse condition. We have to return."_

"Return where?" The gruff voice belongs to Shaman Jadrun, who stands in front of the dragon, his hand clutching a green crystal hanging on a chain around his neck.

Geramn glances at the Shaman in surprise; he did not know Jadrun had returned. He kneels to poke one of the scratches; white puss oozes out. "Frandem, get cloths and rinses to clean these. Oh, and have someone bring this dragon a drink."

The dragon's neck swings to peer at Jadrun. _"A half-day's flight south-east. Volastoque attacked at Maru's lair."_ The bulk of the dragon heaves below Geramn as a sob catches in her throat. _"They slaughtered the hatchlings."_

"You are Kilita?" Shaman Jadrun uses his long, gnarled hand to shade his green eyes. "I did not know you had a clutch."

" _Not mine, Aura's, and they took her."_

"Nora Kilita, please, start at the beginning." The Shaman steps to the side as four lads arrive, three toting water pails and the fourth with a large basin. They place the basin before the green, dumping the water, and turn to go fetch more.

Kilita slurps the basin empty in one swallow. Geramn continues his examination as her tale unfolds. He shudders at the gristly description of the hatchling's slaughter, his heart aching at the loss of the young.

He snags a hold on the spinal ridge as the dragon beneath him sways as she rises to her feet.

" _I need to take a Healer back. Maru will not survive without aide."_ Her emerald head swings around to peer at him. _"I can carry thee. Please get what thou needs to treat severe cuts and burns."_

"Carry me?" His guts clench at the thought. "For a half-day, you expect to carry me as you fly?" He shakes his head. "I doubt you can make the flight on your own, little alone carry me. You are exhausted."

" _We must return, there is no time to waste."_

Jadrun clears his throat. "Nora Kilita, where exactly is this lair?"

" _The western point of the Renault Mountains."_

"Near Shadrock Point?"

" _An hour's flight from Shadrock Point."_

The Shaman nods; his eyes take on a decisive glint. "Healer Geramn, get what you need. I know Shadrock Point, I can transport us there. From there we can have her fly us in. Or with landmarks, I can transport us in stages."

Geramn slides down the dragon's side, his feet making a skittering sound across the scales. "I can be ready in a few moments." Glancing up at Kilita, he says, "Keep drinking, as even your scales begin to dry out." He gestures at Healer Frandem. "Attend her cuts while I make ready."

Most of the dragon's cuts are smeared with ointment when he returns. Jadrun slings his large pack onto his back, the muscles in his forearms bulging as he pulls the straps tight. "Grabbed some food and bedding, since I did not know how long this would take." He leans down and picks up a heavy leather cloak and a leather harness, extending them in one hand to Geramn. "Put the cloak on, then the harness, and then secure your pack on your back." He holds up two lengths of rope. "I intend to tether us to her leg. That way, at least we will not fall unless she does."

Geramn swallows hard, then nods. He slips into the harness, pulling the straps tight. "Did you find your mate?"

Jadrun shakes his head. "No, but neither did I find her body."

Geramn inwardly flinches; rumors of the beasts consuming humans has reached them from the recent battles. He peers at the Shaman. "You think..."

Jadrun tugs the harness straps, his green eyes hard as flint as he checks the fit. "I hope she will still be discovered, as others are making their way in yet." He slaps the Healer on the shoulder. "I shall return to search again, but for now, I am needed here." With that the Shaman strides to the dragon's leg, stooping to attach the first rope. Geramn shakes his head, not sure he could focus on any task if his beloved mate was missing.

Above them, the emerald dragon fidgets as Frandem finishes and slides to the ground. "Two of those slashes near her tale will need a thorough cleaning; I gave them a quick wash and then covered them with salve. The rest are minor cuts and should do."

Geramn pats the young man on his shoulder. "Take good care of our patients until I return or they transport."

"I will." Frandem lifts the pack with supplies to his back, helping him secure it. Tugging on his forelock, the young Healer walks to join those gathered a distance away.

Trying to quell his rising apprehension, he turns and joins Jadrun. The Shaman is tall, at least a handspan taller then he, yet he barely comes to the dragon's knees. He stands beside the forelegs, one rope secured to each. Gesturing that Geramn should turn around, he ties the rope in his hand to the back of his harness. "Have you ever flown before?"

"No."

"Then I recommend you keep your eyes closed; she will have to take off before I transport us." Jadrun sounds exhausted, but his grip is firm as he clasps Geramn on the shoulder. "Keep your eyes closed until we land. If I can follow landmarks, that should be close to the lair."

He nods, not willing to trust his voice, his throat is so tight.

The deep shadow beneath the emerald dragon is cool. A light shiver runs up Geramn's spine as his gaze trails along his tether, noting how frail the stout rope appears against the massive forelegs of the dragon.

Jadrun secures his own rope, and then calls, "Ready when you are, Nora Kilita."

Geramn sucks air between his teeth in a hiss as the dragon's head swings down to peer at the two humans. He lifts his arms above his head. Her eyes narrow for a heartbeat, and then she lifts the leg next to him, twisting the foot until the talons encircle his body.

" _Let me know if thou is uncomfortable."_

Uncomfortable? A dry chuckle escapes his lips. By the Lady, he was uncomfortable at the mere thought of flying. The talons tighten around his body and legs, a firm, strong hold that encases him without pain. "That is fine," he forces out through lips stiff against his teeth.

Shifting her weight back onto her haunches, Kilita grasps the Shaman and her body lurches upright. His eyes slam shut as her hindquarters coil. One powerful thrust with the downward swoop of her wings, and they are airborne.

He barely has time to assimilate the sensation of flight when the emptiness of transportation overcomes his senses for a heartbeat. His ears pop and he risks a glance. They are high above towering, snow-capped mountains. A single pinnacle thrusts out at an odd angle beneath them, like a pointing finger. That must be Shadrock Point.

The swoosh of the dragon's wings is the only sound until Jadrun yells, "Which way from here?"

The dragon swirls into a circle, breaking off headed east. _"This way."_

The scene below disappears, another heartbeat of emptiness, then the landscape beneath them is covered with evergreens. Cypress, pine, fir, cedar, and spruce cover the mountains, which are no longer covered in snow.

" _Almost there, again about half that distance."_

Another transport has them high above a lake resting in a shallow bowl formed between two ridges.

" _I can fly from here."_

Her wings almost blur in his vision as she pelts across the sky. He swallows hard against the nausea and closes his eyes. Several moments pass with him murmuring prayers to the Lady, then the wing-beats slow. The rush of air warms as they descend, then a soft jolt and they are still. He opens his eyes.

The crumpled form of a large black and silver dragon lies a short distance away, beside a swath of crushed trees. He takes a deep breath in relief and turns to loosen his tether. Thank the Lady, that was over. His hands fumble at the tie and he hopes they can transport out of here when he has Healed this dragon.

# Chapter 8

By the Lady, Trella has never seen anyone so bursting with anger. Pearlitta gives her a look that before now Trella has only seen on those intent on the kill. Trella squelches her remorse; the child simply had to be forced to come along as it was unconscionable to even consider allowing her to remain in a cabin alone.

Trella watches as the plump woman keeps a firm hold on Pearlitta's shoulder and steers her toward a large, boxy wagon inline with the convoy. The girl slings her long brown hair over her shoulder and, casting Trella a last scathing glare, stomps ahead of the woman to enter the wagon.

" _Their younglings can be quite opinionated."_ Natal comments from where he stands beside her.

" _The child has spirit. I like that in a youngling."_ Trella studies the convoy of humans as they prepare to depart. _"Pearlitta but strove to follow the instructions of her sire. He told her he would be back, and for her to wait at that farm."_

" _Her sire will find that these folks have been taken to Burick Lake Cavern for safety; it should not be an issue."_

Trella rolls her eyes at him. _"Thou really does not understand, does thou? Pearlitta gave her pledge to remain at that farm. She sees this as breaking that pledge, regardless of the reason."_

" _Her sire would never hold her to a pledge that endangered her."_

" _No, he would not. However, she would."_ Trella moves to a clear space as close to the child's wagon as she can. _"I will see thee nextday, Natal. I intend to remain here to make sure she does not leave."_

" _The youngling is back with those who are in charge of her care; there is no need for thee to remain here on guard."_ He glances around. _"Thou will get no sleep with this multitude milling about."_

" _I do not intend to. I will keep watch."_ Kilita settles to the crushed grass. _"My gratitude for thy help earlier. I will see thee nextday."_

~!~

Geramn steps away from the green dragon, slings his pack to the ground, and rapidly divests himself of the harness and cloak.

" _His worst injuries are beneath him, large tears that I scorched to stop the bleeding."_

He nods to Kilita, then strides toward the crumpled dragon. "I shall examine the rest of him first, in case it is dangerous to roll him over."

" _Well, as to that,"_ she says and looks above them at the platform of mangled trees. _"He was up there. I already moved him twice. Once to seal his wounds, and again to conceal him here."_

"It is still preferable to limit movement until I see what injuries he sustained." He glances over where Jadrun stands, surveying their surroundings. "Nor Jadrun, if you would, please find a source of water."

Kilita points her chin to the east. _"A brook runs through the woods a short ways that direction."_

He runs his gaze across the wing nearest him, noting the Killer Frost damage on its end. "Fine, Nor Jadrun, there are water flasks in my pack and I need them filled."

"Certainly." The brawny man strides to the pack and sorts through it, withdraws the flasks, and heads the indicated direction.

Continuing his examination, he moves toward the dragon's neck. Where the neck joins the body a wound swells with scales puckering upward like an open pinecone, obviously a bite mark. He runs his fingers over the scales of the neck moving along toward the head. Maru's head is slung to the side and he has a view of the top. He scrambles up till he can reach and stroke the ridge plate in front of the dragon's horns; it seems to bulge more than usual. The plate is hot to the touch.

Kneeling beside the horns, he rubs his hands together until an amber glow emanates from his palms. Calling upon the three elements of man—body, soul, and spirit—he can feel the warmth of them coalescing within him. The warmth and flow of the Healing wave soon eliminates the slight chill from the air around him. He places his hands on the frontal plate and focuses on 'Seeing' within.

It takes a moment to penetrate the thick frontal plate; the plate's dense material is fractured with tiny cracks, like ice cracking on a winter pond. Lower in, the surface of the skull is depressed. The tide of Maru's life river is blocked, the swelling of the surrounding tissue trapping the flow of Maru's lifeblood.

The glow of his hands intensifies as he harnesses the Healing wave and concentrates on the depression. He focuses the power on lifting the bone. Perspiration breaks out across his body as he struggles to raise the bone back into place. The area is large, more then three handspans across, larger than any previous attempt he has made.

The muscle in his arms contracts as the amber glow surges and covers his forearms. Struggling against the swelling that holds the bone in place, he almost gives up when it finally moves. Only a fraction, but the depression lifts. Renewing his labors he calls upon the Lady to aid him in his efforts. Reaching for the dregs of his energy, he directs the power to pour into the bone. With a resounding pop, the bone surges upward, into place.

Fighting back exhaustion, he inspects the area beneath the raised skull. Maru's life force pulsates through the tissue, restoring the lifeblood flow. Limp with fatigue, he knows it is time to withdraw.

His vision is slightly blurred as he pulls out of the trance. A brisk breeze raises gooseflesh on his arms and he shivers. Sinking to sit, he leans against the horn closest to him, his breath coming in short pants. The head beneath him rolls and he grabs the horn, his footwear sliding across the scales as he tries not to fall. Next to his foot, a red eye opens, rolling to peer up at him where he perches.

" _Healer Geramn?"_ Maru's Mindspeak is faint and a bit slurred.

Geramn pulls himself to kneel between the massive horns, grasping each to steady his position. "Welcome back, Maru."

A soft sigh of relief draws his eyes to the green dragon. She moves closer, her head swinging down to hover above them. _"My friend, it is good to see thee awake."_

The eye squints and darkens in pain. _"How bad?"_

"I have not had time to see to all of your injuries, but I think the blow to your head will heal. You need to lie still while I get my second wind, then I can complete my examination."

Maru sighs and Geramn tightens his grip on the horns until the dragon settles, then he slides to the ground. He forces one foot in front of the other over to his pack. He picks up the discarded cloak, slings it around himself. Shivering, he hunches into the thick garment as he reaches a tree. He presses his back against the trunk, then slides down to settle against the base.

" _Where is my mate?"_

Kilita droops, glancing at Geramn with eyes filled with sorrow.

He shakes his head.

"She is not here right now."

" _Of course, she cares for the hatchlings. Was she injured?"_

"I have not had time to examine her." Geramn keeps his voice calm. "I will go up to the lair after we complete your second Healing."

" _That is well then."_ Maru closes his eyes. _"I still have an enormous headache."_

"It should improve, the lifeblood is now unimpeded, just give it time. I suggest you try to rest as I take time to recover."

Geramn pulls his amber amulet from the neck of his tunic. He closes his sky-blue eyes and concentrates on rejuvenating his strength. The amber crystal pulses warm in his hand and he relaxes as a trickle of energy begins to flow from the crystal into his depleted reserves.

Maru begins to snore, the low rumbles vibrating the ground. Geramn glances at Kilita; the emerald-colored dragon has moved a short distance away and slumps beside a large oak. Her size dwarfs the magnificent tree; it looks like a sapling beside her.

Somewhat refreshed, he rises and walks over beside her. "I think we should take a look in the cavern." He keeps his voice low, not wishing to disturb the slumbering dragon.

" _Nor Geramn, there is nothing to do there, except prepare the hatchlings for burial."_ Her Mindspeak is as soft as a whisper. She turns her gaze up and to the left. _"Unless Aura managed to escape and return. Thou is right, we should check."_

Jadrun appears before him and Geramn jumps back.

"Sorry, it is quite a distance so I transported back."

His hand on his chest, Geramn forces his voice to be steady when he says, "No problem, you just startled me." He walks over and picks up his pack, then turns back to the Shaman. "Can you transport Kilita and I up to that ledge in front of the cavern? I wish to examine the hatchlings, in case any have survived."

"Certainly." Jadrun places the two water containers against a tree, then stands between the dragon and Geramn. Placing his hand on Kilita's leg and the Healer's shoulder, he locks his gaze on the ledge.

Geramn scrambles a bit on the uneven footing as they arrive. He nods his thanks to Jadrun. "Can you take that water you brought and pour it carefully down Maru's sides? If you pour slowly, the scales can absorb the moisture. He needs to sleep and we shall be here a while."

"Do you want me to go in with you first?"

"No, that is not necessary, but Maru is dehydrated, it would be best if you got back and started on him. Get at least a dozen of those water skins on him, then come back to get me, if you would."

Jadrun nods and without a word disappears. Geramn peers over the ledge but can barely make out Maru near the clutter of broken trees. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, he turns toward the entrance tunnel.

He pauses at the opening and pulls an orb from his pack; stroking the sides and murmuring the incantation, he sets it alight. He holds the light before him; its soft glow illuminates the smooth-walled passage all the way to a bend a good fifty strides in. He can hear the scrape of Kilita's claws as she follows him in. The spicy scent of dragon is strong in the tunnel; as he moves along the passage the copper scent of blood and the rancid odor of rotting mushrooms wafts from the cavern.

He turns the corner and within a few strides a chamber opens up before him. Moving the orb in an arc, he recoils at the slaughter revealed in its glow. The hatchlings sprawl across the chamber, their jewel-colors splattered with blood.

A soft sob comes from behind him and he turns to look at Kilita; the green dragon sags in grief. "You do not need to remain, I can do this alone."

" _No Healer, I shall stay. I need to take them and prepare them for burial. It would not do for their sire to see them thus."_

He nods. The temperature warms as he steps deeper into the vast slightly oval cavern. An orange hatchling lies closest to the entrance, its neck bent and trapped under its body. He gestures for Kilita to help him and together they straighten the male and Geramn checks for any sign of life. There is none.

He gestures for Kilita to remove the body and she tucks the hatchling's torn wings to its side and lifts it in her mouth.

" _I shall take him to a place where we may perform the burial rights and burn the bodies. I will return momentarily for the others."_

The dragon turns and starts into the tunnel as he makes his way to a red female with a large gash across her chest. Again, no sign of life. His heart aches at the horror still evident in the dead gaze of the hatchling. How could the Lady allow such atrocities to continue? Over and over he has witnessed the murder of the young by the Volastoque. Murmuring a prayer that the hatchling finds peace, he moves on.

He is examining the fifth hatchling when Kilita returns and removes another, wordlessly leaving with the red female in her mouth. He kneels beside a blue female and sets down his orb and massages his eyes. The only sound in the cavern is that of his breathing. His head jerks to the left, focusing his attention toward the back of the cavern. He thought he heard another exhale. He holds his breath, listening. Yes, faint but it was there.

Geramn grabs the orb and scrambles to his feet. He rushes past a blue hatchling that was torn nearly in two. He searches the area, but cannot see any other hatchlings. Holding his breath, he listens intently. Yes, farther back. Almost running, he heads the direction of the breathing. A sharp hiss fills the chamber. Geramn jerks to stop. Wedged into a crevice at the back of the chamber two golden eyes reflect the light of his orb.

"Thank the Lady, one survived." Geramn sinks to his knees in relief. The back of his head itches and feelings of terror and aggression fill his brain. The poor thing did not understand Geramn was here to help.

A sharp caw comes from the crevice and Geramn scuttles away. The terrified baby is larger than a draft horse; he does not need to make it feel threatened. He glances over his shoulder, wondering how long it will be until Kilita returns.

Silence once more descends on the cavern. Geramn checks the last hatchling that he had not examined. Also no sign of life. He settles on his heels, placing the orb on the stone floor before him. Mewling, soft and barely audible, drifts from the crevice. Geramn's heart constricts at the sound, picturing his own daughter, scared and alone. What can he do to comfort the poor thing?

The image of his mate, singing as she cradles little Rekia in her arms soothing a bad dream, flashes in his mind.

He clears his throat.

"Sleep, little one, sleep.

The moons are high above.

There is no reason to weep.

I will shelter you with my love.

Close your eyes and rest.

There is no need to fear.

For I shall do my best.

To keep you safe and near."

Geramn pauses, grimacing at his gravely voice and the poor rendition of the lovely song. He scratches the back of his head; the itching intensifies and a sense of wonder and curiosity enter his mind.

He cannot remember the next verses. The sound of claws scraping comes from the crevice and he can see the V of a bright-green snout.

"Well, I am not much of a singer, but if it helps." He starts the song over again. He is on the third repeat of the stanzas he can remember when Kilita returns. He stands and turns to see her enter the cavern, astonishment gleaming in her eyes.

" _Thou sings?"_

"There is one hatchling survivor; he hides here—in the crevice at the back." Geramn gestures toward the place the hatchling is concealed. "He is frightened and confrontational... I thought it may soothe him until you returned."

Kilita rushes across the cavern. _"Is he injured?"_

Shaking his head, Geramn holds the light high to illuminate as much as the crevice as possible. "I do not know, he will not come out."

Kilita lowers her bulk in front of the crack. _"Come little one, we will not harm thee. I am a friend of thy dama and sire."_

The scuffle of claws comes from the cavern, but the hatchling remains hidden.

" _Thy sire, Maru, rests below the cavern. He would love to see thee."_ Kilita's Mindspeak is almost a croon as she lowers her head to rest it on the stone floor of the cavern.

From the shadow of the crevice the soft caw of the hatchling sounds confused.

" _Is thou hungry, little one?"_ Kilita slides her head forward a tiny amount.

Geramn's head itches to the point of distraction and thoughts of food overwhelm him. "I would take that as a yes."

Kilita turns her gaze to him. _"Thou can sense his thoughts?"_

"Only as emotions."

" _That is all this youngling can do, he is not old enough for Mindspeak yet. Hmm, I know of few humans who can pick up the hatchling's thought patterns."_

"We have provisions, Jadrun brought some."

A draconic chuckle fills his mind. _"Thy food will not sustain this hatchling. I must hunt."_ Turning her attention back to the crack in the back wall she says, _"I shall return as quickly as I can with something for thou to eat. Know that this human will not harm thee, we are here to help."_

Kilita rises and, picking up another of the corpses, she moves quickly out of the tunnel.

He sighs, running his hand through his black hair; he settles on a low ledge near the back of the cavern and resumes singing. If this is the only comfort he can offer this single survivor, he will sing.

# Chapter 9

Rejack twists to avoid the blast of Killer Frost that surges toward his bronze wing. He folds his wings and plummets groundward, but the Volastoque streak right behind him.

Three of the beasts.

Alone, he stood little chance against them. The sharp crags of the Exeda Mountains rush up at him. He jerks his wings open and beats frantically in an attempt to build upon the speed his dive gives him. His neck stretches out and he brings his legs tighter against his body as he pushes for speed.

He may make it.

His hunting took him far from the battle covey's lairs. If he can keep ahead of the creatures long enough to get close, the dragons of his battle covey should hear his summons for help.

A screech causes him to jerk his head to look behind him. One of the three, the largest beast, is gaining. The deep-tan creature is close enough that Rejack sees the ragged, healed burns on his upper set of wings.

An experienced fighter then.

Rejack swings his neck forward and grimly forces his wings faster. He can just make out the distinctive crown of the mountain above the lairs. He draws extra air into his lungs and bellows out a cry for help.

No response.

A white blast from behind barely misses the top plane of his bronze wings. The frigid cold discharge sends a chill wind over his wing tops. By the Lady, that was too close. His muscles are afire from his efforts. He risks a glance back; the largest beast gains on him.

Briefly, he wishes he had not been so successful in his hunt. If he was not bloated from the consumption of those two deer, he could fly faster. He can feel their weight in his distended abdomen, dragging him down.

He glances at the cloudbank to his left, then back forward. He will have to hide. The cloudbank may be his only hope of survival. Tilting his wings, he manages a burst of speed that plunges him into their grey depths.

" _I need aid, I am under attack. Northeast of the lair, in a cloud bank."_ His Mindspeak blasts out as loudly as he can send. He dares no verbalization the Volastoque may hear and hopes it will be enough. Deep in the boiling depths of the cloud, he settles into a hover. He tries to keep his wings as silent as possible and forces his pants to subside into quiet breaths.

The deep fog of the cloud swirls as a shape darts past in front of him. Rejack tucks his wings a bit and drops lower in the cloud. The wind of a second beast's passage blasts past where he hovered a moment ago.

Tension vibrates his muscles. He focuses every sense. He attempts to locate the creatures in the thick, grey haze. He can not find them. Relaxing slightly, he reminds himself they will not be able to find him either.

The clouds around him darken, rolling in a simmer as a rumble fills the thick air. A storm. A storm builds within the cloudbank.

Rejack begins a slow flight toward the north. He dare not fly any faster then necessary to keep him airborne, lest the disturbance in the cloud give away his location. When possible he drifts more westerly. However, the cloud cover will not allow him to fly directly toward the lair and remain under cover.

" _Help! Three Volastoque have me pinned in a cloudbank, northeast of the lair. I need aid, immediately."_ He listens. Yes, very faint and unclear, yet he heard a reply.

A creature shrieks; the sound is above him and close. The dark cloud is lit by a flicker and static runs across his scales. Lightning. The lightning charge building in the cloud will fry him if he is in the cloud when the charge has built enough strength.

His shoulder and back muscles coil as he readies himself. He must leave this cloud. Taking several deep breaths, he forces his wings downward and angles to break free from the cloudbank. A shriek cuts across the air. Damn it, one of the creatures hovers below the cloud and has spotted him.

Rejack's eyes lock on the mountain crown above the lairs and he flattens out, concentrating on making all speed possible. The cloud rolls and grumbles with thunder and the sharp calls of the three Volastoque fill the air behind him as they resume the chase.

" _Ease to true north a bit."_ Rejack recognizes the Mindspeak of Mucal. Relief washes through him as he adjusts his flight.

" _Lower, just above the treetops."_ Rejack can barely make out the blue head of Mucal, his form hidden in the crags ahead. He lowers his flight until his wings almost brush the treetops at their lowest point of his strokes. _"Steady, steady."_ Mucal holds his position as a green and a red dragon's head peeks toward Rejack. He sweeps over the ridge and flies past the three dragons concealed in the gully.

" _NOW!"_ Mucal roars. The air behind Rejack fills with battle fire as it envelopes the closest pursuing Volastoque. He braces the front edge of his wings upwards, stalls, and then flips to join the three dragons as they burst from concealment to engage with the creatures.

The lower wings of the Volastoque are ablaze. As Mucal and the red turn to face the oncoming pair, the green—Zethral—and Rejack center their efforts on the leading creature. The green's battle flames shoot harmlessly by as the beast, screaming in agony, folds his lower wings and clamps them against his sides. His upper wings keep him aloft as the flames choke out.

Rejack closes in and manages to get off a blast of flames that reignite the Volastoque's lower wings. The membranes between the beast's wing phalanges curl into ash, leaving bones starkly exposed as naked tree limbs. Rejack powers closer, flips at the last moment to sink all four talons into the beast's underside, clenching to sink his claws through the scales and into flesh. He yanks, jerking chunks of flesh free as powerful wing thrusts take him clear of the beast's teeth and battering upper wings.

His second eyelids snap closed as the creature's flailing tail whips across Rejack's face. Pain stabs his left eye and he reels from the impact. He tries to open his left eye against the swelling; it is no use; he is blind on that side. He executes a tight turn, bringing his right eye toward the creature.

Zethral power dives from above. His back talons grab the upper edges of the Volastoque's functioning wings as his fore-talons lock on the beast's neck. A sharp crack rents the air as Zethral tightens his grasp and one of the wings flails weakly beneath him. The pair plunges groundward as Zethral's wings entangle with that of the beast.

Helplessly, Rejack watches, sending a prayer to the Lady that the green will survive. A fraction before they strike the treetops, the green breaks free. His wing strokes are slow, but he rises with slow, steady beats.

Exhaling in relief, Rejack turns his attention to the other two beasts.

Their fight has taken the battling dragons and Volastoque farther south. Mucal dives and blasts battle flames across his adversary beneath the dark, boiling clouds of the storm. The creature he attacks seems to weaken, so Rejack turns his wings to aid the red. A quick sweep of his head shows him two more dragons, mere orange and yellow specks in the distance, making their way from the lairs to the battle zone.

Keeping his good eye on the side of the struggle, he rushes to aid the red dragon. The tan creature flits around the red like a moth over a flame, his Killer Frost surging from his extended maw. Drawing closer, Rejack recognizes Megrath; she is a young dragon, only this moon entered into the battles. Her carnation-red scales already show several patches of white from Killer Frost and her evasions slow further from her damage and exhaustion.

Bugling a challenge, he draws the beast's attention to himself. The beast's head jerks toward him and a feral gleam flickers in the Volastoque's eyes. Megrath's battle flames flash, surging harmlessly past the beast as he effortlessly dodges and turns his back on her in contempt. The huge tan creature focuses his complete attention on Rejack as the dim twilight is shattered by the first lightning strike.

As the thunder crack fades, Rejack can hear the sound of wings behind him. He risks a quick glance back. Zethral. The green dragon lurches in his flight but makes his way inexorably toward them.

" _While Zethral and I keep him busy, come in from low and behind him, Megrath. Aim thy flames at his underside, where his body scales are thinnest."_

The Volastoque hovers, his body plates reflecting sparks the color of honey in the pulsing light from the crackling clouds. A second lightning bolt sheers across the heavens as the clouds dump a torrent of rain.

" _Zethral, come in from his left."_ Rejack risks a glance at the oncoming green. Zethral's flight seems steadier and his golden eyes glow with hate as he rushes toward them.

Rejack darts forward, feinting an attack.

The Volastoque never breaks his hover; the beast almost smirks as his thick neck swivels to keep Rejack and Megrath within sight. Banking, Rejack sees Zethral almost directly behind him. _"No, Zethral, thou must take his right side, as I am blinded on my left."_

Zethral angles to the right and Rejack returns his attention to the Volastoque. The beast emits a blast of Killer Frost. Rejack dodges right, folding his wings to drop altitude. Flames surge over his body and he writhes in pain.

Incredulous, he jerks his head to stare at Zethral. Through the downpour, the green stares back, his eyes filled with horror as he inhales in preparation to send another bout of flames toward Rejack.

" _Zethral has taken a barb."_ Rejack blasts the Mindspeak warning as he folds his wings and plummets groundward. Rain pounds across him, extinguishing the flames before he can take much damage. He jerks his wings open and, muscles burning in effort, darts under the Volastoque. He blasts battle fire as he surges past the creature, but in the rain it has little effect.

Where is Zethral?

His neck swinging continuously, he searches for the green.

He spies him as the green dragon closes from below. Zethral blasts him with flame. Pain washes across his talons and legs, but again, the rain retards any real damage. Twisting, he whips his tail toward the green as he passes, trying to knock him back. His tail lashes across the dragon's back, doing little.

" _Rejack, hold on, we are almost there."_ The Mindspeak comes from the orange dragon as he and the yellow draw closer to the embattled dragons.

" _Find the Volastoque downed in the trees behind us and kill it. It holds Zethral entranced. Thou must kill it or we face killing Zethral."_ Rejack grunts in satisfaction as the orange shears off to head toward the downed Volastoque. The yellow pelts toward Megrath; she is locked in battle with the entranced green dragon.

The red darts in, feinting attacks then drawing back further under the boiling black clouds of the storm. Keeping the green busy so he cannot attack Rejack.

Rejack's neck sweeps in a three hundred sixty degree circle, seeking the Volastoque. Quite a distance away, Mucal still battles the one. But... Where is his?

A swoosh from above and to his left answers his question as the beast drops onto him. The creature's claws latch onto his spinal ridges as its jaws grab his neck at the base of his skull. Rejack wrenches his neck with all his strength and the serrated teeth of the beast cut furrows down each side of his neck as its jaws slide. He struggles to maintain flight as the weight of the beast presses down.

Curling his spine, he bucks and lurches beneath the beast, struggling to break free. His flailing tail ensnares the creature's hind legs and he sweeps them from his spinal ridges. They scramble ineffectively at his side. Twisting, he spins, his serpentine neck arcing back and he manages to latch onto the Volastoque's cheek.

The beast's golden eye glares at him as he clamps down and jerks his head from side to side. Rejack's wing strokes weaken under their combined weight as he forces his jaws to clamp shut. The beast's cheek shatters in his mouth and the foul taste of its blood coats his tongue.

The Volastoque's jaw releases Rejack's neck and reaches for his jaw.

Instantly Rejack releases, bucking his spine and with powerful wing thrusts scrambles out from beneath the beast. Killer Frost washes across his right wing tip as he rolls away. Lightning splits the sky and Rejack can see the beast as clear as if it were midday. Thick plates of deep tan protect the mature beast, in his battle prime. The busted cheek is his only recent injury. Long, old scars rake his belly and old tatters at the edges of his wings are mute testimony to his survival of other battles. For a moment, they both are frozen in time, then the beast nods and shrieks to its companion.

Rejack glides into a spiral as the two break off the battle and flee north.

" _Let them go, Mucal. We must secure Zethral."_ His Mindspeak is gravelly with his pain and he turns his wings toward where the third Volastoque went down. Megrath, he can see, has already taken injury as she and the yellow attempt to keep the green busy without hurting him.

The lightning strikes increase; barely more than a few moments pass without them streaking across the sky. They must land, or nature may complete what the Volastoque were unable to finish.

His tired wings take him over the gulch in the mountain where the third Volastoque fell.

The beast is wedged in a crevasse, the orange unable to get in a killing blow as the beast has withdrawn too deeply into the crack. Mucal arrives beside him, panting while his pheromones reek of battle rage.

The rain has defeated the orange's attempts to use his battle flames. Rejack hovers with his good eye turned toward the crevasse. _"Together, our flames may prevail against the downpour."_

The three dragons converge on the opening; one by one they ignite their battle flames and send them scorching into the crack's depths. The orange glow of the flames and the near constant barrage of lightning lights the area. Ear-splitting screeches fill the air as the beast within cooks beneath the flames. Rejack is exhausted by the time silence indicates the beast is dead.

Mucal bugles, his red eyes whirling with victory. Rejack glances behind him to see the green jerk in mid-flight as he is freed from the Volastoque's influence. His relief is short-lived, for a bolt of lightning shears from the clouds. The green glows as the bolt strikes him, then collapses, hurtling in a crumpled form downward.

The red and yellow follow his descent, landing out of Rejack's view.

" _Come, we must land before we too are struck."_ Rejack makes a weary descent as he sends a prayer to the Lady that the green will recover.

~!~

Trella fumes. By the Lady, only two sunrises into the trip, the child disappears. She knew better than to leave that portion of the convoy to another dragon to watch. Of course, Pearlitta slipped way at the first opportunity given.

Trella's eyes rake the countryside beneath her. The ground is churned up in a wide path along each side of the road. The vast herds the humans move have left the ground stripped clean of green and churned by many hooves until the land is more brown than green.

She glances at the horizon and sees it is not long until the sun will set, rendering her search impossible to continue till nextday.

As her gaze drops back to the landscape a flicker of movement near a small cluster of trees catches her attention. She tilts her wings and heads that direction. Yes, there it is again.

Amongst the leaf-naked trees, a flash of red, Trella coasts lower. Soon she can make out the red-cloaked form of Pearlitta, huddled close to the low branches of a fig tree.

" _I see thee."_ Trella lands. _"Thou may as well come out, as I know thou is there."_

Pearlitta stands, but does not leave the shelter of the trees. The girl's face twists with anger. "Why do you continue to put your nose in my business?"

" _If thou would stop resisting our help, I would not need to."_ Trella clenches and unclenches her claws, digging furrows in the ground.

"It is only help if it is accepted. It is control when enforced." Pearlitta's blue eyes blaze with resentment. "I do not need you, or anyone else, to tell me what to do or where to go. I told my sire I would wait for him and so I shall."

Trella reins in her frustration and forces her talons to sheath. _"Let me ask thee a question, Pearlitta. If thou placed a puppy in a pen, to keep it safe, and a flood was encroaching on that pen, would thou want the pup to remain, or escape to avoid the flood?"_

"Of course I would not want it to drown, but that is not the same thing at all."

She holds the child's gaze as she responds. _"Oh yes, my young friend, it is. The Volastoque will descend on Miramax and the surrounding area like a flood. They leave nothing but destruction in their wake."_ Trella pauses a moment, her mind's eye seeing villages and towns where the Volastoque have already laid the countryside to waste. Her Mindspeak is racked with emotion when she continues. _"I would not want thee to witness the destruction I have seen. I certainly do not want thee in the middle of it, and neither would thy sire. He would want thee to escape the incoming flood."_

Pearlitta drops her eyes. The girl's hands twist in front of her as she stares at the ground for a long moment. "I gave my word."

" _When thy sire and dama mated, they did so to secure a future for their offspring. He would want thee to survive. Thou would not be breaking thy word; thou would be doing what he will expect of thee."_

"My parents were not mated." A faint blush touches the child's cheeks. "I am a bastard of their union outside the mating bond."

Trella successfully suppresses an external reaction. _"That does not change the fact thy sire would have thee flee with the other humans to safety."_

"Maybe not, but it sure does make those you ask me to leave with less happy with my accompanying them."

" _They agreed to care for thee for thy sire. I am sure it is no different."_

Pearlitta shakes her head. "He is a Shaman; they only agreed to not anger him."

" _The cavern we take thee to has many Shaman; I am certain we can get word to thy sire where thou has been relocated."_ Trella responds, not certain it is so, but certain she, herself, will make every effort to locate the man. _"Come, Pearlitta, let me take thee back to the convoy."_

The girl makes her way grudgingly across the space separating them. "I suppose I really have no choice. If I do not, you will simply come after me again."

Trella chuckles. _"True."_

Pearlitta moves to a short distance in front of her. "So, what are you going to do, carry me?"

" _Yes, raise thy arms above thy head, I will grasp thee in my front talons."_

The girl's eyes grow wide as she follows Trella's instruction. "Do not crush me."

Trella carefully encloses the small form in two digits. _"I would never harm thee, child."_ She raises the child up to eye level. _"Is thou comfortable?"_

Pearlitta nods. "It is not too bad; just make sure you do not drop me."

Trella clasps her to her breast and launches. She can hear the child's sharp intake of breath as they leave the ground. _"So, what is thy sire's name? I shall begin inquires."_

Pearlitta shouts, her voice a bit shaky. "Belnarth, his name is Belnarth."

Trella turns her wings toward the convoy. She can see the evening campfires are already well started. _"Stay with this convoy, Pearlitta, and I will see thee safely to thy sire."_

~!~

Geramn leans back against the smooth sides of the cavern. The rock face is slightly warm on his back. He continues to sing to the hatchling, his gaze wandering the large chamber. The slightly oval chamber is large enough to hold seven or eight adult dragons comfortably. The area by the entrance is flat. Half-way across the expanse there is a shallow depression in the stone floor that must be the nest. The bottom is matted with a thick pad of dried grass.

Toward the back of the cavern, the ledge he sits upon is just below his hip in height. It is narrow where he sits, not more than a couple of strides wide, but it widens to fully forty strides wide at its thickest point.

Several crevices mark the back wall, but none as wide or deep as the one concealing the hatchling. When he pauses for a moment to rest his voice, he can hear the trickle of water. The sound comes from a second exit on the right side of the cavern. There must be another chamber with a water source.

Scratching on the stone draws his attention back to the crevice. A bright-green snout, followed by a sharply triangular-shaped head, peeks out of the shadows. The golden eyes of the hatchling hold curiosity.

"Wondering if I finally died after all that caterwauling?" Geramn grins, then casting his gaze across the remaining corpses, he sobers. "Probably afraid you were alone again, huh?"

The hatchling edges out far enough that his long, serpentine neck exits the shadows. His scales are the color of new clover, but lie dull against his skin.

"It is all right. I will not hurt you. Come on out and we will get you a drink, you look as if you could use one." Geramn remains absolutely still and begins to hum the song softly.

The head bobs up and down in rhythm with his song and the hatchling steps forward far enough so his shoulders and frontal wing edges are in the light.

Geramn continues to hum and begins to sway along with the tune.

The green hatchling stares at him, its golden eyes wide, soft brown specks whirling in their depths. It takes another faltering step.

Geramn smiles, trying to convey praise, at the hatchling's progress. He keeps his voice soft when he says, "There you go. One step at a time, we are in no hurry."

Three more steps and the hatchling's body is in full view. Geramn breathes a sigh of relief when he sees no injury on its body. The youngster is tall and spindly, its body thin, and scales are missing in a few small patches. Geramn glances at the remaining corpses. They too were underfed. Sorrow washes through him as he realizes that Maru's absence in the battles has caused his family to go without. He cannot imagine how hard that must be. At least he knows his mate and children are well cared for in his absence.

The rapid movement of the hatchling jerks his gaze back to the green. It stands with its head thrust high, staring at its slaughtered siblings. Its eyes whirl with terror mixed with remorse.

"I am so sorry." Geramn rises, the urge to give physical comfort prompting his action.

The hatchling flings his head back toward Geramn, its neck lowering and extending flat out from its body. A hiss cuts across the space between them.

The hatchling is over ten strides away, but Geramn flinches at its size and the menace it projects. Even though it is immature, it could rip him to shreds in a heartbeat. Remembering Kilita lying down when she spoke to the hatchling, Geramn presses his back against the ledge and slides down the stone to sit on the floor of the cavern. "Easy, fella, I am not a threat." Making a conscious effort to calm his reaction to the aggression, he starts to hum, forcing the melody past his tight throat.

He has reached the third repetition of the song when the hatchling becomes less tense. The muscles in its haunches and shoulders relax, becoming less evident beneath the layer of scales, and its head rises.

Its head jerks toward the entrance and Geramn can hear the scuffle of talons on the stone. Kilita emerges from the tunnel, a fresh-slain deer in her mouth.

The hatchling fidgets, excitement radiating from him as he looks from the advancing dragon back to his niche in the wall. Hunger wins the battle and he scrambles to meet Kilita. The emerald dragon drops the deer, gutting it with one swipe of her fore-claw and placing the steaming entrails in front of the hatchling.

He practically nose-dives into the pile, tearing chucks of bowel and filling his mouth.

Geramn exhales a long, slow breath of relief and leans his head back against the wall. He closes his eyes for a moment and sends a prayer to the Lady to help them save this small dragon.

~!~

Jadrun transports beside the massive black dragon and moves over to his left side to slowly pour water along the scales of the dragon's flank. He watches in amazement as the dragon soaks up the water, like a huge sponge. He empties both water skins then transports back to the stream and refills them. Closing the tops of both, he scoops up some water to try and wash out the bitter taste transporting leaves in his mouth. The taste is mostly on the underneath, toward the back and sides of his tongue. He rinses his mouth several times, spitting out the water onto the ground. It helped, a little.

Shouldering the straps on the water skins, he continues his chore. His mind chews on the wound left in his heart by his missing mate. He forces himself to remember that Blanche is a resourceful woman; she will have used every means to survive.

Blanche mated below her station. When they met and courted, Jadrun was apprenticed as Shaman. Apprenticed in a Society whose existence, or even the fact Shaman existed, was a secret. This forced Jadrun to present himself as a young man without a trade, for he could not tell her of the Society, at least not until they mated and he brought her with him to the caverns as he continued his training.

As the daughter of a town Headman, she could have had her pick of suitors. Yet, not only had Blanche accepted his courtship, she found a way to cause her sire to accept him. Yes, his mate of eighteen winters was nothing if not resourceful and determined.

He must contact those searching as soon as he gets back from this task; perhaps she has been found. He sends a prayer to the Lady that Blanche has been found well and unharmed. His mind filled with worry for her, and grief for his lost son, Herlan, he persists with his work. Many trips later, he glances up to see the emerald dragon flying into the cavern with a deer carcass. Now, why would she take it in there to feed?

He steps over to the tree his packs lie beneath and drops the empty skin; shouldering the remaining full one, he transports to the ledge. A chill breeze causes him to pull the throat of his tunic tighter. He pauses and stares out at the mountains sprawling below and around him. The majesty of the view is breathtaking, the higher ridges tower over the crest where he stands like guardians. Maru's crash site beneath him is easy to see and his eyes are drawn to the large body of a Volastoque that lies a short distance from the clearing where he left his packs. Searching the area, he locates two more Volastoque bodies broken upon trees and one splattered at the base of the rock face to his left. May the Lady help him; he found gratification in seeing their lifeless bodies.

By the Lady, it must have been a horrid battle. He swallows hard against a dry throat. His Herlan faced such creatures. In his mind's eye he can all too clearly picture the attack that killed his son and left his mate missing. He wipes his forearm across his eyes to clear his vision, suddenly bleary from tears.

Turning from the view, he enters the tunnel. The passage is dark. He should have brought one of the orbs from his pack. Using one hand against the smooth side of the tunnel he works his way along carefully. He can make out a faint glow of light ahead. The tunnel turns to the left and light increases as a vast chamber opens in front of him.

His jaw slackens and he stares, wide-eyed, at the slaughter before him. From what Kilita said, one creature caused this devastation. A stab of pain in his chest accompanies the thought that his Blanche faced many more in that attack. Amidst the mangled bodies of several hatchlings, Kilita tears chunks off the deer carcass and places them in front of a bright-green youngster. The gold eyes of the hatchling whirl in a dance of excitement as he scarfs up each offering with relish. Sitting at the base of a ledge at the rear of the cavern, Nor Geramn looks on with a bemused expression on his long, narrow face.

" _Please move slowly, Nor Jadrun, this youngling is yet a bit skittish."_ Kilita's Mindspeak is almost a whisper. The emerald dragon has not paused in her efforts, or turned to him; she must have heard him in the tunnel.

Jadrun keeps his movements quiet and quells his agitation, which he has to admit is tinged with a good dose of fear. He has never been this close to a dragon hatchling. This one looks like it could tear him asunder, it is so nervous. He steps out of the tunnel and the hatchling's head jerks his direction. A sibilant hiss fills the cavern as its mouth, loaded with sharp dagger-like teeth, opens wide. Kilita plops another chunk of deer in front of the hatchling, moving her body so she stands between it and him.

" _Shush, thou has nothing to fear from me or these humans."_ Kilita lowers her head to stroke her cheek along the hatchling's neck. _"Feed, thou needs to eat to grow stronger. Thy sire will wish to see thee looking well."_

The hatchling subsides; giving him a stark glare, it resumes feeding.

"Sleep, little one, sleep.

The moons are high above."

Jadrun looks at Nor Geramn in surprise. That song. He and Blanche used to sing it together, their voices mingling in harmony, to settle the twins as infants. The Healer shrugs and continues singing.

"There is no reason to weep.

I will shelter you with my love."

Easing a few strides into the chamber, he jerks to a halt when he draws the hatchling's attention. Clearing his throat, he joins in singing the child's song. Tears course down his face as he automatically takes a slightly lower pitch to harmonize with Geramn, just as he had with Blanche.

"Close your eyes and rest.

There is no need to fear.

For I shall do my best.

To keep you safe and near."

Its golden eyes soften and the whirling slows. Bobbing its head in rhythm to the song, the hatchling resumes feeding.

" _At least thou has a respectable voice." Kilita's Mindspeak has the tone of amusement as a soft hum fills the chamber when she joins them in a repeat of the stanzas._

Trella loops a lazy circle around the supply wagons at the back of the convoy as they pull into a field beside the road to set up camp. A shrill warning bugle shatters the quiet of the evening. Trella jerks her head the direction the alert came from. A covey of Volastoque dart toward the convoy from cover of nearby hills.

Her heartbeat pounds in her ears as she turns to engage the attacking creatures. A quick count and she estimates there are over fifteen of the beasts. The twenty escort dragons pelt toward the location where the beasts attack the convoy.

The first Volastoque reaches the front of the convoy and blasts wagons with its Killer Frost. The creature's barbs pound down upon the humans like hail. Many of the barbs strike humans and Trella sees them turn upon their companions. Horror ripples through her as Volastoque take control of the human's minds and sires strike down their offspring and mates, turning to set the very wagons they had been fleeing in ablaze.

Bugled dragon challenges and humans shouting a rally to battle fill the air. She still has not reached the location when volleys of arrows cut skyward from the archers in the convoy. One Volastoque falters as the rain of arrows hits it, another's wings shred beneath the onslaught and it tumbles groundward.

Trella streaks toward the faltering Volastoque, her battle flames ready. The creature sees her coming and blasts a torrent of Killer Frost her direction. She folds her wings, quickly drops altitude, to duck beneath the deluge. She power strokes to come up beneath the beast. Her battle flames scorch its underside. Executing a tight turn she flames it again. Two of the beast's four wings burst into flames.

The Volastoque shrieks as it tumbles and crashes in a crumpled mass on the ground between two wagons. Humans leap forward to thrust spears into the creature until its thrashing ceases.

Trella's trumpet of victory is cut short as another Volastoque darts from above to rake claws across her back. She twists to avoid the beast latching on. The long furrows slashed through her scales sets her back on fire with pain.

Rage fuels her wing strokes and she darts after her attacker. Her ribcage swells as she inhales deeply. Igniting her battle flames, she exhales in a whoosh that engulfs the beast. Trella's eyes narrow to mere slits as she focuses on the searing flames. The Volastoque's wings shrivel beneath the onslaught and she folds her wings to follow it groundward, keeping the inferno on the beast.

Frigid pain slams into her right wing. Killer Frost washes across the entire length, rendering the wing useless. A scream of terror rips from her throat as she plummets down. Her frantic efforts with her left wing slow her descent only a minute amount and she crashes into the ground, her right wing crumpling beneath her.

Jagged, shooting pain washes across Trella. The impact knocks the air from her and she struggles to breathe. Above her the Volastoque folds its wings and drops with claws extended and its mouth wide. She attempts to flame the beast, but she cannot draw enough air into her lungs.

Helpless, she watches as her death streaks toward her.

A red flash rams the creature. Natal! The crimson dragon sinks his teeth into the base of the Volastoque's neck. Blood splatters down in a rain upon Trella, so close to the ground do they battle. The creature wails as Natal backstrokes and yanks it over so it is no longer directly above her.

She cringes when Natal's grip slips and releases the Volastoque. Quick as a blink, the beast reaches back to grasp the red dragon by the throat.

The ground trembles as the two crash close to Trella. Tan wings and red thrash as the struggle continues. Heaving herself up, Trella staggers to them, dragging her shattered wing behind her. Her jaws find one of the Volastoque's wings and, setting her teeth, she pulls back with all her might, jerking her head from side to side to shatter the wing struts.

Desperately she tries to find a more vital spot, as the red dragon is slowing, strength fading in the beast's grasp. Through the tangle of wings and limbs—the glint of an orange eye. She lurches forward, sinking her teeth into the orb. Shrieking, the creature releases Natal. The red dragon slumps, his body lying half across the Volastoque.

Her body screeching in pain, Trella clenches her jaw. The Volastoque's wings batter her unmercifully as she tenaciously clamps even harder, until the orbital rim shatters. Spitting out splinters of bone, she backs off.

A shrill keening wail reverberates through her as the tan monster flings itself upward, reaching for her throat. Her neck whips sideways and she dodges the vicious maw, filled with serrated teeth. Jerking her head, Trella manages to snag the soft underside of the Volastoque's jowl. The flesh tears under her sharp teeth; blood and chunks of flesh sling away as she worries the tissue.

She wrenches as hard as she can and the entire underside of the creature's jaw rips out. Its tongue flaps from her mouth as she jerks her head away. Flopping and gurgling, the Volastoque falls, to rise no more.

Trella unsteadily drags herself to the prone form of Natal. Sobs shake her body as she sees the fixed, glazed eyes of the red dragon. Weak and battered she lays her head beside him and slips into unconsciousness.

~!~

Maru is still sound asleep when Geramn arrives beside him via transport by Jadrun. The hatchling fed well and instantly curled up to sleep beside the remaining deer. He glances up as Kilita passes overhead with the last body of the murdered hatchlings. Now that the chamber is clear of bodies, he will perform another Healing, and Jadrun will transport Maru into the cavern.

His heart swells with compassion for Maru; as a father he cannot fathom how the dragon will survive the news of his offspring's slaughter. He glances at Jadrun's drawn features. It must be even harder for the Shaman to be here. Less than a drama has passed since he lost his own son. Pushing the anguish from his mind, he centers his thoughts and prepares to enter a Healing trance.

The scales on Maru's side are brittle and dry when he lays his hands upon them. He can see a few spots where the water Jadrun brought has helped, but the dragon is still quite dehydrated. He glances at the Shaman.

"Can you transport him twice?"

"Twice?" Jadrun's green eyes look startled and his shaggy eyebrows rise in question.

"Yes, I think we should take him to that stream, or even a lake if one is close, to rehydrate him before taking him to the cavern."

"Ah, I see. I suppose I can do that." Jadrun steps back and surveys the size of the dragon. "But I shall have to rest before the second transport. The multiple transports on the way here have significantly depleted my resources."

Geramn nods. "Not an issue, he should remain in the water long enough for it to have an effect."

"Will you be going with us too?"

"If you can take both of us, yes. I need to do several Healings, and can start while he rehydrates."

"You mentioned there was a water source in the cavern?"

Geramn glances up to the ledge above them. "Yes, but I did not investigate, it may be no more than a trickle."

"I think I will take a look. If we can transport him there, it will only be one trip and he is where he needs to be."

"Very well." Geramn turns toward the tree where the satchels lie. "I will grab a bite to eat while I wait; would you like me to get something out for you?"

"A piece or two of jerky will set well; transporting brings on a sharp appetite." Jadrun turns his gaze to the ledge and disappears.

Geramn rummages through his pack. A piece of parchment catches his eye and he pulls it out, unfolding it to read his mate's message once again. He folds it and places it back in a pocket in the satchel. His gaze turns to Maru. There must be some way to safeguard the young of the dragons. It is only right that they have peace of mind about their families as they help in the battles.

Digging into the pack, he extracts two strips of jerky and a couple of yarin-cakes. He takes a bite of the yarin-cake and chews, savoring the delightful flavor. Yarin-cake tubes with a spiral of sticky roasted pine nut paste, these were good, although not as good as those his Sheina made. His mate always added more honey, making them gooey with sweetness. He chuckled; that may be because she knew of his sweet-tooth.

Jadrun pops back in beside the dragon.

"There is a small pool, and the chamber is more than large enough to hold Maru." He strides over and lifts his packs, slinging them on his back. "Gather your stuff and come stand with me beside the dragon and I will transport us there. You will need to light an orb."

Geramn tucks the two pieces of deer jerky in his pocket, stuffs the last of the yarin-cake in his mouth, and pulls out an orb. Closing the pack, he recites the incantation that lights the orb and joins the Shaman beside Maru.

Jadrun places a hand on Maru's side and grasps Geramn's forearm. A moment of emptiness. They pop in to existence, standing waist-high in slightly warm water.

Geramn takes a quick inhale and his eyes fly wide. "Thank the Lady it is no deeper."

Jadrun turns his head toward him. "I am sorry, Healer, I thought you realized we would arrive in the water."

"I should have." He forces his body to relax. "I do not swim; it simply caught me off guard."

Jadrun wades to the stone shore. "How is it you cannot swim?"

Geramn eases his way along the dragon's bulk until he reaches the forearm. "I can, but abysmally." He grasps the strap of his pack and slings it upon the shore. "It is not a skill I ever took time to improve."

Jadrun pulls the pack further from the water and sets his own down beside it, sinking to sit cross-legged beside them. "I suppose you were rather tied up learning all the Healing arts."

Geramn glances at the Shaman, then back to the elevation of the dragon's back. "I need you to come hold this orb. I do not think I can climb and hold it."

"Of course." The Shaman rises to his feet in one smooth, effortless movement. He pulls off his footwear and trousers, laying them flat upon the rock to dry, and wades to the dragon's side covered by his loin cover and tunic. "Did you want me to go up first, and help you make the climb?"

His eyes travel the upright mass before him and Geramn nods. "Perhaps that will be best."

Jadrun steps upon the dragon's elbow and reaches high above his head to grasp the first forearm ridge. The muscles in his arms and shoulders bulge as he hauls himself up the scaled arm of the dragon. He steps to the second forearm ridge and leans down to offer his hand to Geramn.

It does not take much effort on Geramn's part, as Jadrun hauls him up the steep slope. When he is standing on the first ridge, Jadrun turns and climbs up, using the ridges as steps to reach the massive shoulder blade ridge. Geramn follows right behind and, as the Shaman scoots sideways to allow him to pass, moves quickly to the wound on Maru's neck.

The dual crescent-shaped wounds are comprised of multiple punctures, each at least two and a half handspans in width. Each puncture has scabbed-over. Geramn kneels beside the closest puncture and lays his hand upon its slightly-bulging surface. Heat radiates from beneath his palm. Pulling a small knife from his pocket, he scrapes the scab away and purulent, thick fluid oozes from the hole.

"Agh, that smells vile." Jadrun says.

Geramn glances up at the Shaman. "A bite wound is often the most subject to infection. We are going to need some cloths to cleanse this and an ointment I have in my pack." His eyes run across the multiple wounds. "I doubt I have enough, but perhaps we can spread a thin coat on each wound until I can make up some more."

Jadrun makes a choking sound, drawing Geramn's attention back to him. The Shaman's face is pale, his eyes narrowed as he swallows convulsively. "I am afraid I will not be much help there, Healer. I cannot abide this smell, nor the sight of that." He hands Geramn the orb and steps back. "I will get the supplies, but other than holding that orb, I am afraid I will not able to help you." He transports to beside the packs.

"It is the container with the orange top," he calls down, watching as the burly Shaman begins to rummage through the pack. He looks back at the wound. Puss seeps to trickle across the dragon's neck and he must admit the odor is strong and unpleasant. He seldom finds it bothers him though. He will cleanse the wounds, then move on to the wing. Depending on how much damage he finds there, he can decide where to use the Healing trance. Maru will need several more Healings on his head contusion. If he can, the other wounds will be treated conventionally, saving his resources for that, more dangerous, wound.

He continues to peal scabs off the punctures. Maru should heal well; it will take a while, but the dragon should make a full recovery.

"Dampen those cloths, Jadrun. It will be easier to clean this if they are wet."

Jadrun pops back beside him, arms laden with damp cleansing cloths and the large pot of emollient. The Shaman drops the cloth beside him and reaches for the orb, holding the pot in his other hand.

"Thank you." Picking up a damp cloth, Geramn scrubs on a puncture. "Have you always been queasy around wounds?"

"Wounds are not a problem. Puss is. I cannot abide the smell or sight of the stuff."

"That is not uncommon." He finishes cleaning the first wound and moves on to the second. "Perhaps you can apply a thin coat of that salve when I have them clean?"

Jadrun averts his eyes and gags. "Once you have enough of them clean where I do not have to get down there near puss, I should be able to help."

"Once we get him stabilized, can you transport us to the caverns at Kitloch?"

"Yes, although not all of us at once. You think it necessary we do so in haste?"

Geramn pauses in his scrubbing, drawing his sleeve across his brow to wipe away the sweat. "You saw the other cavern. How can we know if those creatures will not return?"

Jadrun tenses, his gaze jerking toward the arch leading to the other chamber. "Perhaps we should leave immediately."

Geramn resumes scrubbing. "No, until I stabilize his head wound, it will be too dangerous."

Jadrun opens the pot of salve and with a small portion of a cleansing cloth scoops some out. "I cannot remain here that long; I must transport to search for my mate when ever you do not need me here." The Shaman turns his eyes, dark with sorrow, upon the wounds. "We will have to transport Maru and Falcop within four sunrises. That is when I am due back at Kitloch; there are few enough transportation Shaman to meet the need to transfer dragons to battles and it would not do to have them search for us."

"With any luck, that will be enough time." Geramn moves over to begin working on the matching oval on the other side of the neck. "How goes the search for your mate?"

"I transported a young woman we found two sunrises ago to the Healing caverns at Kitloch. She saw Blanche in a group that made to escape in the hills."

Geramn lays a comforting hand on the Shaman's shoulder. "There is hope then, that she is safe and hiding in those hills with others. I shall pray for her to be found safe."

"I, too, have prayed." Jadrun stares at the walls of the cavern for a moment, his gaze unfocused. "I lose faith that the Lady listens. I transport there to search, every free moment I have."

Geramn glances up as Kilita enters the smaller chamber; her eyes flicker and twirl in the dim light at the entrance arch. _"I leave to hunt again."_

He nods to the emerald dragon. "Good idea, we can cut a roast off that deer, but Maru will need a whole deer to himself when he awakens."

" _Thou shall have to await my return. There is none of the deer I brought earlier left."_

"He ate all of that?" Jadrun's eyes widen in surprise.

" _Every scrap."_ Kilita wears a look of satisfaction. _"He could barely drag himself to the nest, his belly was so full."_

Geramn gestures down at the neck wound. "Give us a few moments. I would rather not leave the hatchling unprotected while we work in here."

Kilita's head tilts to the side as she regards the human. _"How would thou defend Falcop against a Volastoque?"_

Geramn resumes scrubbing. "Jadrun would have to transport him out of here."

Jadrun jerks back, almost dropping the pot. "I cannot even touch him yet. I would have to touch the hatchling to transport him."

" _I will wait. Jadrun, there is nothing for thee to worry about, Falcop will sleep soundly through most of this day. We shall see that thou is introduced and become friends upon my return."_ He eyes soften as she runs her gaze across Maru. _"How does my friend fare?"_

"Better. I should be done here soon; once you return we can have you shift him so that I may work on the wounds below. He will heal; all that is needed is time."

" _I shall guard the entrance until thou is ready."_ The emerald dragon turns and, with a flick of her tail, exits the cavern.

# Chapter 10

Shaman Hern nods at the Shaman who transported him. He glances around the steep-sided valley. The goats placed here for the younglings' feeding are clumped against the wall closest to the cavern's back ledge. Turning his gaze the other direction, he sees the reason for their discomfort. His allies have arrived before him.

"My thanks, please return in an hour to transport me back." He watches the young woman disappear, then turns and walks to the three dragons who await him. Even from a distance, the trio appears formidable.

Sunlight seems to absorb into Yalkin's immense black form. His three dragon beard strands that fall at least four strides from his chin and his thick scales announce his age as over six hundred winters. Niwah is a bit younger, perhaps only four hundred fifty winters; his deep green body displays a spider web of scars and a gash over his right eye causes it to appear in mid-wink. Estrola is the sole female; her midnight-blue scales ripple as she paces a short distance from the other two. As he nears, Hern can see a human seated on a boulder near where Estrola paces; he carries the staff of a powerful transporting Shaman.

"My friends, thank you for coming," Hern calls as he nears them.

" _It is good to see thee, my friend."_ The words rumble in the deep tones of Yalkin's Mindspeak.

Estrola ceases her pacing and settles on her hindquarters. _"I would introduce Shaman Belnarth to thee, Shaman Hern.'_

Hern nods a greeting to the man. He guesses Belnarth to be in his thirtieth winter, or there about, young to have the power designated by the large green crystal mounted in the head of his staff. "I am pleased to meet you. However, I am afraid what I need to discuss with my dragon friends is confidential—"

" _He is in my full confidence as my Bonding Mate; I ask that he be allowed to remain."_

His brows furrow in confusion as he peers up at the blue female. "Bonding Mate? This is not a term with which I am familiar."

" _A human with whom I have exchanged the vows making us family."_

" _A new custom, arisen since we began these battles, some six winters past."_ Niwah peers down his nose at Shaman Belnarth, the green dragon's expression conveying his contempt at the practice. _"One I have yet to find of merit."_

" _I do not seek thy approval, Niwah, only thy acceptance of our circumstances."_

" _I have no objection to his presence here."_ Niwah turns his back on the blue and her Bonding Mate, focusing his gaze on Hern. _"If thou has no objection, I think we can begin."_

"Of course, he is welcome." Hern glances around and moves toward a second boulder near the other Shaman. He settles upon its warm surface, ignoring Niwah's disgruntled sigh as the dragon is forced to turn again to face them. Even on a good day the green dragon's attitude is prickly at best. "I came to speak with you of a prophecy. One that, our Mystics agree, suggests the only course of action that does not guarantee the annihilation of both the Palmir People and dragonkind."

He relays the Mystic's message, observing reactions of his audience. A look of deep sorrow shadows Yalkin's face as he absorbs Hern's words. Niwah stiffens and twitches, several times seeming about to interrupt, but holds his comments. Estrola's eyes whirl with specks of gold and brown within their blue depths. Her brow pulls together as she takes on the mien of deep thought. It is the human, Belnarth, who glares at him with belligerence and finally leaps to his feet.

"You cannot seriously be suggesting they accept this sacrifice?" Belnarth rages. "You ask they lay down the future of their species, to secure our own."

"Not precisely. The other paths of the future show no future for any of us. Dragons and humans alike will fall beneath the tide of Volastoque, vanquished as a whole." His voice trembles a bit and he clears his throat before he continues. "The offense and defense power Shaman shall all go into battle with our dragon allies, should this be the path chosen. The prophecies say we too shall pass into history. The Shaman Council already decided to make this sacrifice, if the dragons so choose this path."

Belnarth shakes his head violently. "That is not the sa—"

" _Enough, Belnarth."_ Estrola glances at him, then turns her gaze away. _"Perhaps it would be best if thou awaits me in the pastures below."_

"What?" Belnarth shakes his head. "I will not be—"

" _This decision is not thine to make."_ Yalkin's Mindspeak rumbles across them all. _"Await thy Bonding Mate below, and hold thy tongue about what we discuss here."_

Belnarth gives Estrola a pleading stare and when she ignores him, he casts a glare at Hern, then disappears.

" _His heart speaks before his mind. Excuse his reaction."_ Estrola sighs and settles to the grass, curling her long tail neatly around her body. _"Thou is sure? The Mystics see all dragons and Shaman perishing in this battle?"_

" _What does it matter?"_ Niwah jerks his chin toward Hern. _"Do they see any path to the future where dragons survive?"_

Hern hangs his head for a moment, then raises it to gaze straight into the golden eyes of the green dragon. "Only one, I hesitate to bring it up lest it be a false hope."

" _Shaman Hern, any hope is better than none."_ Yalkin shakes his head dolefully, his dragon beard swinging like a pendulum. _"What is this sole hope?"_

"One of the less experienced Mystics, and only she, has experienced a repeated vision where eggs survive." He shakes his head. "There is more she does not understand, where dragons experience rebirth." He gives them an apologetic grin. "As I said, she is not very experienced at her craft."

" _A moment. Thou stated the dragons die in battle?"_ Estrola tilts her head, leaning toward him with her mouth hanging slightly open as she anxiously awaits his reply.

Hern tries to ignore the multitude of teeth exposed directly above him. "Yes, all dragons and all Shaman of battle powers."

" _The hatchlings and younglings would not participate in a battle."_ Estrola's mouth snaps shut and she turns her gaze toward Yalkin. _"Herein lies the means for our species to survive."_

" _Yes, I see. We could secret away clutches of eggs. The young dragons will be able to raise them once they reach adulthood."_ Yalkin tucks his chin against his neck and furrows his brow; the rainbows undulate across his black scales rippling in the sun. _"A means will have to be found to protect the eggs and place them in a type of hibernation, until the younglings mature."_

" _And how does thou suppose we do that?"_ Niwah demands _. "Cold is the only means under which dragons succumb to hibernation and cold will kill eggs."_

Hern stands and begins to pace around his boulder. "Perhaps we can devise a means. We are still exploring the many powers of the different crystals, but... I think just perhaps we can find a way to put the eggs in a state of equilibrium or inactivity by use of opposing equal crystal forces."

" _Without harm to the eggs?"_ Estrola interrupts.

"Of course that is the goal." Hern slaps his hand down on the boulder. "I shall have our best Shaman get to work on this immediately."

" _Let us speak again in a drama."_ Yalkin rises to his feet, his joints creaking loudly in the quiet afternoon.

Estrola rises and glances at Hern. _"I shall have Belnarth come back to retrieve thee, as thy transporter will not be back for some time."_

Hern settles on the boulder. "My thanks, Estrola, but I think sitting here in the peace and quiet will do more good for my thinking process. I would like to give this problem some thought."

The blue dragon nods, and with a strong surge of her wings, she is airborne. The green and black lift right behind her. Hern begins to worry at the problem, happy he has a potential means to safeguard the dragon species.

~!~

Jadrun fidgets as he watches the Healer complete another session with Maru. He realizes that Maru is not stable enough to transport a long distance; however, it is hard to quell the impatience to get the dragons to Kitloch, so he can return to search uninterrupted for Blanche. Or, as far as he knows, she could have been found since his last contact with the searchers. He goes to search every moment the Healer does not require his help here. It has been three sunrises since he has had more than an hour or two of sleep, snatched between his duties and searching.

The black and silver dragon looks much better. His scales have taken on sheen. The wound on his neck no longer seeps and begins to close, as have the burned furrows in his belly.

He glances over his shoulder as Falcop and Kilita enter the smaller cavern. Geramn kept Maru asleep for the past three days; when he finishes this Healing they shall wake him. He shakes his head, glad it is not he who shall have to break the news to Maru that his mate is missing and the green hatchling is all that remains of his clutch. That scenario is too close to his own. Even to the fact that Maru missed the funeral of his hatchlings that the Healer and he attended their first sunrise here. Herlan was buried before Jadrun could claim his body. As he had watched the funeral pyre consume Maru's offspring, he mourned their loss, and that of his own son.

Falcop moves to stand beside him; he absently reaches over to scratch the hatchling behind the plate at the top of his head. Falcop scooches closer, pressing his head firmly against Jadrun's hand.

The amber glow surrounding Geramn's hands begins to fade and the Healer settles back on his haunches between Maru's horns. "There, that should do it. The swelling in the tissue around his contusion is completely reduced." He slides down Maru's forearm, landing in the waist-high water with a splash. He turns to Jadrun. "Perhaps you should wait in the other chamber. I know if it were me, I would want some privacy when told of such a terrible loss."

"The youngling will come as soon as his sire begins to grieve. There will be no way to contain him."

Jadrun gives Falcop a last scratch and strides toward the arch to the main chamber. "He can stay here. We need to safeguard the entrance. Come along, Kilita, if Maru's reaction draws attention it would be best if we are prepared."

He looks back to see if the emerald dragon follows. Kilita brushes Falcop's face with the side of her own, then with an anguished look at Maru, turns to sweep through the arch in front of him. He follows her as she strides to the main tunnel.

~!~

The racket of boys fills the chamber and rouses Elish. He scrubs his fist across his eyes and scowls at the boisterous foursome that arrive at their sleeping platforms a few strides away from his. He tries to burrow back into his covers and reclaim his rest. But the lads shuck their soiled clothing and pull on fresh garments, then plop atop their own beds and begin a long, loud conversation about arul, a ballgame that requires a steady hand.

Elish sighs in exasperation, sits up, and pulls on his clothes and footwear. The rumbling of his stomach drives his feet to the dining chamber. The chamber is brightly lit and cheery with potted plants suspended from hooks sticking out from walls. The particular women and young men staffing the serving area tell him it is early evening. He recognizes at least three of them as the evening shift.

He picks up a plate and utensils, then forces a smile onto his face as he thanks Tamille, the eldest woman there, as she offers him two Nyth eggs fresh from the fryer and still sizzling. He grabs a couple of steaming rolls to add to his plate. The spicy scent of sausage causes his mouth to water as he fills a mug with apple cider and finds a quiet place to sit amongst the rows of nearly empty tables.

He chooses a place in a dim corner, sitting in a chair with his back to the wall and the chamber before him. He allows his gaze to wander the room as he settles. He is the youngest dining; all the families have already been and left; it must be late in the last meal service. That is one of the things that irks him about living in these caverns: without the sky to judge the time, he is always a bit disoriented.

He resolves to go outside for a while as soon as he completes his meal.

Using his fingers, he holds the crispy exterior of the first Nyth egg and, with a rapid slice, splits it in half. The rich, slightly runny yolk of the egg enclosed in sausage oozes out and he quickly sops it up in one of the rolls. Chewing, he cuts the egg into bite-size pieces and proceeds to eat with relish.

Nyth eggs are one of his favorites. He often helped his dama shape the paddies of sausage to encase the soft-cooked eggs; then his sisters would roll them in the yarin flour, egg wash, and then the bread crumbs. But dama always fried them. She said it took a certain touch to keep them from overcooking and ending up with a hard-cooked egg, instead of the yolk perfectly runny.

He smiles across the room at Tamille, kissing his fingers to show her how wonderfully the Nyth egg was prepared. The grey-headed woman grins and her wrinkled face shines as she nods at his compliment.

Elish drops his gaze to his plate, a bit of his enjoyment gone as Tamille's expression brings forth the memory of his granddama. She, too, was lost in the attack. He finishes his meal quickly and leaves his plate and utensils in a wash-tub as he exits.

# Chapter 11

The warm water of the pool laps around his waist as Geramn draws in a long ragged breath when the two leave the chamber. By the Lady, he wishes he did not have to tell his patient this bad news. He shakes his head; Maru has already been through much physical pain, and more is yet to follow before he recovers. This tragedy will be a strong emotional blow.

He motions for Falcop to move back against the entrance; it will not do for the youngling to be injured if Maru flails about in his grief. The bright green hatchling scuttles across the stone to settle near the arch. Drawing in a deep, steadying breath, Geramn rests his hand upon Maru's face and concentrates on waking the dragon.

The large, red eye above him opens a slit. Geramn wades through the water and gains the shore. Maru opens his eyes all the way, peering at the Healer. The red in his eye swirls slowly, awash with pain.

" _Healer Geramn."_ The Mindspeak is weak, barely above a whisper in Geramn's head.

"Maru, try not to move about much, your injuries will do better if you remain still."

The eye rolls to take in the small cavern. _"Thou has brought me to my lair."_

"Yes, the water helped rehydrate you, and it seemed the safer alternative." Geramn pauses, wishing to physically comfort the large dragon when he breaks the news, yet afraid to go any closer lest Maru crush him if he thrashes about when he learns of his loss. "Maru, please try to remain calm, this is a small enclosure and I would not wish to have you injure yourself, or me."

The eye closest to him narrows, the gaze intense as Maru says, _"What is it, Healer, what is thou so hesitant to say?"_ The huge black head lifts from the water, the red pulsing of Maru's eyes slowing as he sees Falcop at the arch. _"Where is my mate?"_

"Maru, she was taken. I am so sorry, but the Volastoque appear to have hit her with several mind-barbs. She appears to have left with them."

Maru swallows, his entire body slumping. _"I want to see my offspring."_

"They attacked the nest as well. Falcop is the only one to survive." Geramn's voice breaks and he turns to walk across to the hatchling. "He is well, we have seen to his care."

A low wail resonates through the chamber, building until the anguished cry vibrates through Geramn's body. Falcop lifts his neck. His throat pulses as his undulating warble of grief and loss joins the cry of his sire.

Geramn blinks away tears, moving aside as the hatchling rushes to the pool. Falcop plunges in beside his sire and Maru wraps his neck around his son. Geramn's steps are leaden as he heads toward the other chamber, leaving them to find solace with each other.

He drifts through the main chamber, hunching his shoulders against the soft wails still emanating from behind him. Kilita and Jadrun have done what they could to cleanse the chamber from the residue of the slaughter, but blood stains many locations. Anger fills him as his gaze moves from one bloodstain to the next; Maru does not need to see this.

He stalks out to the ledge, joining the emerald dragon and Jadrun. The two stand rigid in the cool air, their eyes in constant motion, searching the land and sky for sign of the creatures. Jadrun looks haggard and tears stream down his cheeks unchecked as Maru's and Falcop's cries wash over them.

The cries behind them begin to lessen in volume and he can see the tension in both figures abate somewhat.

"We need to get them to Kitloch." Geramn sits on the cold stone ledge, pulling his cloak tight around him. Jadrun turns to face him, his face haggard with deep emotion.

"I can transport there in stages; it should not be too much to take you, Maru and the hatchling." He shakes his head. "But there is no way I can manage with an additional dragon."

" _Thou needs not worry about me, Shaman. I have no intention of going anywhere except after Maru's mate."_ Kilita never stops her perusal of the countryside as she Mindspeaks.

Geramn says, "Kilita, there is nothing you can do alone. You would simply fall victim to them yourself, or end up dead."

" _I know the one that took her was injured. The foul stench of his blood fills the cavern where he slaughtered the young. If I can find them before he rejoins a covey of his fellow creatures, I can kill it and free Aura."_

Geramn opens his mouth to object, but the Shaman raises his hand and speaks, "She is right. It may be Maru's mate's only chance. Once it has her amongst others of the creatures, they will be too strong to overcome. She must search for Aura, since Maru cannot do so himself."

"Can you wait until we get to Kitloch? Jadrun may be able to transport another dragon to go with you."

"Not likely, Healer, it will take all my resources to get your group there." Jadrun runs a hand briskly through his black hair, his eyes taking on a thoughtful expression. "Shadrock Point, wait there. Many Shaman know that location, and I should be able to find one that can transport help to you there, Kilita." He glances at the sun, only just risen in the sky. "Give me till midday meal time; we should be able to send someone by then."

Geramn looks at the Shaman with surprise. "You wish to leave right away then?"

"Immediately. We serve no purpose in lingering here."

Geramn glances toward the cavern entrance; a soft keening can still be heard. "Perhaps give them another hour or two?"

" _I should hunt in any event, so I shall see thee upon my return."_ Kilita lifts her wings, preparing to leap from the ledge. She glances back at the two of them. _"If thou is gone before my return, I shall wait at Shadrock Point until midday. Tell Maru, I will find his mate and return her to him."_

"Kilita, be careful," Jadrun says.

" _I shall."_ She leaps from the ledge; powerful wing thrusts have her hovering above them in a heartbeat. _"I will bring Aura to Kitloch when I free her."_

Geramn watches as the emerald dragon flies swiftly to the south. He stands up and places his hand on the Shaman's shoulder. "Are they all like that?"

Jadrun's eyes flick to his face. "Like what?"

"Well, I have had precious little time to get to know our dragon friends. I usually spend my time with them healing wounds, not conversing. Kilita seems not to even doubt that she will be successful, and further sees it as her responsibility to take on this dangerous task."

"Oh, you mean loyal and brave?"

Geramn squeezes Jadrun's shoulder, then allows his hand to drop to his side. "Yes, she again risks all to help Aura and Maru."

Jadrun glances where the emerald dragon is disappearing over a ridge. "Most are. At least the ones that I have gotten to know. I suspect dragons are no different than humans. You have the chaff with the meal." He turns and gestures that Geramn should accompany him into the cavern. "But I want you to think on this. Would we have been so quick to dedicate ourselves to this battle, if it meant leaving our families unprotected?"

Geramn steps beside Jadrun and they walk toward the entrance. "No. And that is something we need to fix."

Jadrun nods. "Let us start by getting these two where it is safe."

~!~

They pop into existence atop a hill adjacent to the one holding the caverns at Kitloch. The sentry dragon's bugle splits the air and Jadrun glances west to see an orange dragon flying their direction.

Maru raises his head, and shaking from the effort, he sends out an answering call to the dragon. Rain sheets from a dark sky as Jadrun sags for a moment against Maru. The immense distance to transport four of them here has drained him. Falcop nudges him aside and scurries to lean against his sire.

He glances at Geramn. "We need to remain here a moment; that sentry will notify them we have arrived."

"This is Kitloch?" The Healer steps away from them; squinting against the rain, he searches the hillside. "Where is the entrance to the cavern? And the people, I see no one."

Gesturing across the small valley, Jadrun answers, "The entrance is about one third of the way up the slope, in that ridge across this valley. It is hidden; you will not see it from here."

Hunching forward and pulling the front of his cloak closed, he waits for the weakness to pass.

Geramn's perplexed gaze darts from the large male dragon preparing to land to the empty hillside across from them. "I see no sign of people."

He manages a wry smile. "It would not be a very safe hiding place if you could, now would it?"

" _Greetings, Tioner."_ Maru's Mindspeak is both weak yet assertive. _"I would prefer thou keeps thy distance from mine hatchling."_

The orange dragon's eyes whirl with curiosity as he quickly changes his line of descent. _"Lady Blessings, Maru. Thy hatchling has nothing to fear from me."_ Tioner lands a short distance away. _"Thou is injured, I shall summon a Healer."_

Jadrun grunts as he pushes himself off Maru's side and takes a few steps toward the orange. He tugs on his forelock. "I am Shaman Jadrun, Nor Tioner, and this is Healer Geramn. We need to have Geramn, Maru, and his hatchling transported to the Healing cavern. Would you please notify Shaman Hern that I am here and urgently need to speak with him."

Tioner nods and they lapse into silence as he Mindspeaks with others. Jadrun glances back at Geramn, to find him peering across the valley through the rain, his eyes searching the mountainside.

"You will not find it."

Geramn turns his gaze toward him. "There has to be over a thousand people here by now; surely there would be some indication of that from here."

"The Shaman erected a cloak to shroud that mountain and this valley." He gestures below them.

"A cloak? I have never heard of such a thing."

"Most people have not." Jadrun shakes his head, not for the first time questioning the Shaman tradition to keep so much knowledge from the rest of the Palmir People over the decades. "You did not know about transportation not so long ago either."

" _Shaman Jadrun, I need to resume my post. Shaman Hern and others will be here shortly."_

"My thanks, Nor Tioner." Jadrun watches as the dragon unfurls his wings and with three rapid thrusts is airborne. Water sheets off his body as the orange turns; his flight path will take him over the valley.

Jadrun turns to Geramn. "Watch that dragon closely."

The Healer gives him a perplexed look and lifts his gaze to watch Tioner.

The orange dragon wings swiftly away from them, his path low and directly across the center of the valley. Rain dims the colors of his scales as he moves farther away. Then, when he reaches the base of the hill they stand upon, he begins to disappear in large slices. First his head is gone, and then his neck, shoulders, wings, back, and finally his tail simply cease to exist as he moves over the valley.

Jadrun cannot help but smile at the look of total astonishment on Geramn's face.

"By the Lady, he is simply gone."

He turns to Maru. "No, he continued across the valley, he reached the cloak barrier. There is a sort of bubble encasing the valley and that mountain that will keep it hidden from the eyes of our enemy." He shoves his hand though his black hair, pushing the wet mass back out of his eyes. "This is why the Shaman brought our people here. And why I agreed it would be the best place for you and Falcop."

"How?" Geramn's voice is barely above a whisper.

Jadrun reaches under his tunic and tugs a chain out above the neck. He lifts his green transporter's crystal. "Just as my crystal grants me the ability to transport, and your amber crystal gives you the Healing gift, there are other crystals." He tucks the pendant back into his neckline. "They used another type to set up this cloak."

Geramn shakes his head, his eyes bewildered. "But why..." He breaks off as four figures pop into view approximately where Tioner had stood.

Jadrun recognizes the gnarled features of the Head Shaman peeking out from beneath the hooded cloak of one of the figures. He drops his eyes respectfully and pulls on his forelock. "Shaman Hern." He raises his eyes and continues. "This is Healer Geramn and Maru with his hatching Falcop. We seek aid for Maru in the Healing cavern, a safe haven for his hatchling, and aid to locate his mate, who was taken by the Volastoque."

"Lady Blessings to you all." The Head Shaman's voice rings with surprising strength from his slight form. He gestures to one of the Shaman accompanying him. "Shaman Tera will transport the Healer and dragons to the Healing cavern." He steps forward, shifting his hood back to allow his deep blue eyes to meet Jadrun's. "You will come with me, so that we may hear your story and determine how to help."

"Of course." Jadrun steps toward the elder Shaman as two of the Shaman, both transporters like himself, approach Maru and the Healer. "I will see you both after arrangements have been made," he assures them before the Shaman transport them to the Healing cavern.

He shuts his eyes as the last Shaman initiates transport. He never feels comfortable when relying on someone else for the deed. The horror stories of transports failing, the Shaman and people never arriving at their destination—or anywhere else—have always stayed foremost in his mind. Or the Lady forbid, the transport ends with people stuck half-way through a wall. He saw one such tragedy and one was enough to haunt him for a lifetime. The moment of nothingness seems to last longer when he is not in charge of the spell, but soon he feels a hard surface beneath his feet. They arrive in an oblong chamber; two young men enter as they appear, bearing trays of steaming tea. He recognizes it as one of the meeting chambers in the depths of the Kitloch caverns. A black stone table fills the center of the chamber with six chairs along each side and one at each end.

Light pours from oblong sources set in the ceiling in a pattern reminiscent of a wheel's spokes; the center 'hub' is bare of light and appears to be a flat plate carved into the stone. Upon the face of the plate a stylized S is engraved.

The arched door on the far side of the chamber stands open and he can see various Shaman passing through the outer chamber. The Shaman who provided his transport helps Shaman Hern remove his cloak and, tugging on his forelock, exits the room.

"Please, be seated." Hern sits in the chair at the head of the table and gestures to the seat at his right. Shaman Hern's hands tremble as he takes a mug of tea from one of the servers. "The others should be here momentarily."

Jadrun sinks gratefully into the chair. "Is there any word of Blanche?" He sags at his aged friend's head shake, and asks, "How is Montello?"

"The lad is holding up well, considering. How are you doing?"

"Exhausted. I transport at every opportunity to search for her, but..."

"Be careful, Jadrun, you will not do your mate or son any good if you overtax yourself and a transport fails."

Jadrun shudders, pushes that awful thought away, and asks, "How many dragons are here at Kitloch?"

"The sentries and a handful of others. Perhaps a dozen." Hern gestures for the server to give Jadrun some tea.

He takes the mug, nodding his thanks and wrapping his cold fingers around its warmth. "Maru's mate was taken by the Volastoque. It may be best if you get a message to them and I may tell them what happened so they may send help to Kilita."

Hern's eyes widen in surprise. "Then they returned to attack Taloxville?"

"No, Healer Geramn and I had left with Kilita to render aide to Maru. It is a long story, but Kilita will be at Shadrock Point at midday, waiting for help to arrive so they may find and bring back Maru's mate."

Shaman Hern looks at one of the young men. "Turmac, send a message to the dragons to gather at the western field in one hour."

The youth tugs at his forelock, sets down his tray, and hurries from the room.

Shaman Hern turns his gaze back on Jadrun. His ancient face holds concern. "Can you summarize for me as we wait?"

Jadrun takes a sip of the tea. The blend is one he recognizes to give energy. "The Volastoque increase their incursions. Maru's lair fell under attack and all the hatchlings, except one, were killed. Several barbs struck his mate and she was taken off by an injured Volastoque. Kilita is a dragon whose lair is near-by; she intends to seek them and kill the Volastoque to free Aura."

"I see. A couple of dragons should be sent to aid her."

"I suggest at least three, as Aura is under the creature's control and they will have to subdue her before killing the Volastoque." Jadrun shakes his head. "They must be at Shadrock Point at midday or Kilita will go on her own, to keep them from getting back to a covey."

Shaman Hern nods; his gnarled fingers thrum on the smooth tabletop. "We of course must help retrieve Maru's mate."

"I think it is more than that." He takes a deep breath and plunges ahead. "Our dragon allies fight beside us as their mates and hatchlings are not safe from these attacks. We must make provisions to safeguard their families."

Hern nods. "We have kept so busy reacting to the attacks upon the villages and towns we have not seen these other consequences." The Shaman glances to the door as others start to file in. He gestures to them. "The Council shall discuss this and find a solution."

Jadrun leans back, sipping his tea, feeling guilty at this moment of silent rest. He watches as members of the Council file in and take seats. Thank the Lady, they will find a way to at least safeguard the dragon's offspring.

# Chapter 12

Kilita perches upon Shadrock Point, her gaze never slowing as she peruses the surrounding countryside. The sun is almost to the midday point; she fed and arrived at the pinnacle a short time ago as she promised. Her heart aches in her chest as her thoughts linger on the losses of the last moon cycle.

She shudders as she remembers the slaughter of Aura's clutch. The savage annihilation of those hatchlings strikes deep into her soul, as she herself is gravid with her mate Timac's eggs. Their first, and last, clutch. Her fore-talons stroke her abdomen. Only two moons along, she is not showing yet. Her eyes become misty as she mourns the fact that her offspring will never know her mate.

Trying to shake off her melancholy, she turns her thoughts to seeking a new nest site when she returns from retrieving Aura. Obviously, the current location will not do; the Volastoque incursions will only increase in the vicinity, making it unsafe. Perhaps farther south. It will be another moon before her pheromones announce her condition to other dragons, and then the eggs will come two moons later.

Her gaze rakes across the mountains, the near-nude trees allow her to see clear through to the ground. Nothing stirs around the Point; the warm rays of the sun and the slight breeze make the day pleasant.

She glances once more at the sun's position. It is at the midpoint of the sky. She will wait another hour. Then, if no one arrives, she will commence on her own.

~!~

Geramn's mouth drops open as he gazes across the immense Healing cavern. By the Lady, it is over four times larger than others he has seen. It will easily hold over two dozen dragons in the Healing waters alone, and another three dozen in the adjacent convalescing chambers. His head tilts back. The high ceiling arcing over the lake is lost in the darkness overhead. Geramn snaps his mouth shut, his gaze following the perimeter of the chamber. Waves of different colored crystals encrust the walls, giving it a shimmer in the faint light. Hundreds of oblong light orbs are scattered along the walls, their light giving the cavern the illumination of dusk.

Three dragons lie submerged in the water, two with only their heads or just their nostrils above the surface. A young, bright-yellow female, with her left wing shattered and floating upon the warm waters, appears to be the most severely injured. The second dragon is an aged brown male; he entered the waters as they arrived and Geramn saw his right hind leg is supported by a brace. The long dragon beard the brown displays tells him the dragon is well over three hundred years old. The brown now lies submerged with only his nostrils above the water.

The Shaman who transported them promised to return in an hour to take Geramn to the refugee quarters in Kitloch. Until he has been there himself, he cannot transport to the location. As badly as he wishes to find and see his family, he must ensure arrangements are made for Maru and Falcop first.

Falcop stands trembling on the shore as Maru, with small puffs of smoke drifting from his nostrils, eases into the warm water. The green hatchling rushes to stand beside his sire's head as Maru lays it on the bank. The hatchling turns frightened eyes to him as Geramn walks over to stroke his neck.

"It will be all right. Your sire can heal more rapidly here. Other Healers will work together to take care of his injuries quickly." He hums and strokes the young dragon until he calms. A couple of scales flake off in Geramn's hand. He holds them, marveling at the strong, resilient texture. He tucks them in his pocket, sure they will fascinate his boys. Several more come loose as he continues to stroke the hatchling. He realizes Falcop is growing. That is the reason he sheds. He looks along Falcop's body. Although his ribs are no longer prominent, Geramn can clearly see the faint depressions under the green scales.

Geramn turns his gaze back to inspecting the cavern. An area not too far away holds deer carcasses for the feeding of the dragons. He gestures that direction. "Come with me, Falcop, and we will see that you are fed and find you a place to sleep."

" _Go with him, my son. All will be well."_ Maru's deep-red eyes fasten on Geramn. _"See that the place he sleeps is where I can see him."_

"Certainly. Maru, you have nothing to fear. Everyone here has his best interests at heart."

" _Healer, mine mate is missing and this is the last of my fifty-seven offspring yet living."_ Maru's eyes twirl like a blood whirlpool. _"Thou will understand if I am concerned for his welfare."_

Geramn drops his eyes, chagrined that he has not given more thought to Maru's feelings. "I will see that he is given a place close-by."

Maru nudges his son. _"Go with him; it does my heart well to see thee feed."_

The rasp of scales accompanies Falcop rubbing his cheek against that of his sire. Geramn escorts him to the feeding station and selects a medium-sized goat for the hatchling.

Falcop sets upon the meal with gusto.

Geramn averts his gaze as the green hatchling plunges his snout into the animal's entrails. Although he wants Falcop to feed well, the actual process is more than he can stomach. Even the slurping and crunching of bones causes him to swallow convulsively several times. He moves a few strides away and continues his perusal of the chamber.

Maru is the closest dragon to the shore. His black body is completely submerged, his silver mane, ridges and wings appearing salmon-colored under the amber-colored water. Three Healers arrive beside him. A tall, lithe woman with three diagonal amber slashes and a star arcing over them across the front of her robe designating her as a Head Healer begins an exam. Maru slumps into an induced sleep and the other two Healers join her in a Healing trance, concentrating on repairing Maru's head injury.

The cavern bustles with activity. To his right, a smaller alcove contains sleeping platforms and he can see several are filled with convalescing people. He looks once more at Maru, his eyes following the path directly in front of the black and silver dragon. There is another small chamber in the wall. Yes, that would give Maru an unobstructed view of his hatchling.

Turning back to Falcop, he sees the hatchling is slowing in his feeding, having consumed the forequarters of the goat. He strides to beside him.

He reaches toward the hindquarters. "Here, let me take that to where you will sleep. Then you can finish it when you awake."

Falcop's neck lowers and his wings thrust out as a low growl rumbles in his chest.

Geramn stops, staring at the hatchling. "Falcop, I gave it to you. I am not taking it away, I simply want to move you to a sleeping area."

The rumble ceases and the green hatchling lifts the goat remains, tilting his head, and his eyes swirl. Geramn can feel a sense of impatience at the back of his mind.

"Very well, you can carry it yourself." He gestures in the direction of the small chamber. "Come along." He walks that direction, looking over his shoulder to make sure the hatchling follows. Falcop falls into step behind him, the front hooves and head of the goat beating a rhythm against his throat.

The alcove is about eight times the size of the hatchling. The walls are smooth to the touch, almost like glass. Layers of colors undulate across the surfaces, giving a pleasant pattern to the walls. Six orbs are mounted on the walls; the light they emit shimmers across the surface and makes it bright enough to see well in the chamber. This will suit admirably. Geramn looks at Maru. The dragon will have a good view of his offspring while remaining in the Healing waters.

Falcop moves into the alcove, dropping his goat and laying one fore-talon on it as he tears a chunk free. Bedding. Falcop will need bedding for a nest. Geramn flips his black hair back from his eyes, scratching absently at his neck as his gaze searches the cavern looking for the stockpile of bedding he knows has to be here.

Four young men walk toward the alcove that holds the human sleeping platforms, each laden with earthen jars on trays.

Geramn moves to intercept them. "Excuse me."

A blond youth of about fifteen winters stops; his gaze drops to the three diagonal amber slashes on the front of Geramn's filthy tunic. His head nodding in respect, he says, "Healer, how my I help you?"

Geramn gestures to the alcove behind him. "This hatchling will need bedding, enough to make a comfortable nest for him in this alcove."

The youth glances at the alcove, then back to the three other youths who have continued on. "We deliver these to the Healing chamber over there." He gestures with his chin. "But we can bring the bedding afterward."

"My thanks; I shall remain here until you return to place the bedding."

"We can do that, Nor; we often take care of the bedding for the dragons."

"This hatchling has been through a lot. I think it best he is only approached by someone he knows right now."

"Of course." The youth nods again. "I shall return as soon as possible." He strides off, following the others.

Geramn strolls back to the alcove entrance. Falcop is still eating, although he appears to be slowing considerably. Geramn pulls his pack from his back and reaches into it, extracting a water skin. He pops open the top and squirts a stream of water into his mouth. His stomach grumbles, reminding him it has been several hours since his last meal. He grabs several strips of deer jerky from his pack and then closes it. Dropping the pack against the wall, he sits and leans back upon it, taking a bite of the jerky.

The Healers working on Maru are still in a Healing trance. He smiles, glad to see the dragon getting the help he needs. He consumes three of the deer strips, washing them down with the tepid water. Glancing into the alcove, he sees that the bright-green hatchling has settled to gnaw on the skull of the deer, having eaten the rest.

The four youths return, each carrying two bales of straw. Geramn scrambles to his feet, closing his skin and tossing it down on his pack.

"My thanks," he says, indicating they should leave the bales near his pack. "I will see to it from here."

The youth he spoke to before drops his bales, tugging on his forelock. "Healer..."

"Geramn," he supplies.

"I am Montello. Healer Geramn, we can bring the bedding nextday and remove the soiled bedding if you like."

Geramn nods. "Yes, I appreciate that." He grabs one bale and takes it into the center of the chamber. Pulling his knife from the sheath at his belt, he slices the binding twine. "I am not sure how long Falcop will remain in this chamber." He tucks the twine in a pocket and spreads the straw. "The black and silver dragon is his sire; Falcop will remain here until Maru is whole again."

The youth tosses the next bale into the chamber. It lands with a resounding thump beside Geramn, causing the hatchling to jerk his head high and glare at the youth.

"Easy, Falcop, they mean you no harm."

Falcop's gaze remains vigilant as he resumes chewing the skull.

Three of the youths leave; Montello continues to pitch the bales into the chamber as Geramn needs them. Soon he has a thick, soft nest ready for the green hatchling.

Geramn walks over to Falcop and strokes his neck for a moment. He is amazed at the texture of the scales. Smooth as a babe's bottom, beneath his hand, they depress into the skin below, making them feel soft. Yet, they are harder than stone. The scales reflect the light from the orbs, their bright-green color reminding him of the new growth of grass in spring.

"Come along, Falcop; let us get you settled in your nest." He tugs on the ridge at the base of the hatchling's neck, trying to coax him to the nest.

Falcop ignores him.

Geramn coaxes for several moments, then, exasperated, he slaps the shoulder ridge of the hatchling. "Get your butt up! I have to leave in a moment. I want you in your nest first."

Falcop turns his gaze upon him and the back of his skull begins to tingle.

"I cannot understand what you want." Geramn scratches at the base of his skull. "I will return nextday." He gestures out to the water at Maru. "You shall remain here until your sire is well."

The hatchling rises to his feet and grudgingly shuffles over to plop upon the nest, then resumes chewing on the skull.

"Does he understand what you say?" Montello's liquid brown eyes are as wide as platters.

"I am not sure how much he comprehends."

"Does he Mindspeak to you?"

"No, he is young yet for that. I get sensations from him on occasion."

The youth lifts a hand, scratching at the base of his skull. "Yeah, I think I picked up on the disgruntled attitude when you made him move."

"Did you now, lad. I get some from him, but did not pick that up. Except, of course, from his body language." Geramn joins the youth at the alcove entrance. "Perhaps we should take some time nextday to get the two of you acquainted. I am not sure where I will be assigned next and Falcop may very well be here for a drama or more."

Burgundy suffuses the young man's neck and face as he stutters, "I would really like that."

Geramn grins. "Do you know the lullaby 'Sleep, Little One, Sleep'?"

Montello's eyebrows V as he turns puzzled eyes to Geramn. "Ah, yes."

Geramn pats the young man on the shoulder. "If you have naught else to do right now, sing to him. Falcop calms to that song. Stay here; do not enter for right now. But I think if you sing a while it will let him know you are a friend." He glances over where the Shaman who transported them into the cavern has arrived beside Maru.

"I need to leave, I shall return later this nightfall. Stay with him till he sleeps, please." Geramn grabs his water skin, shoves it in his pack, and shoulders the pack strap. His step has a spring to it that belies his exhaustion as he makes his way to the Shaman. He can hear Montello's soft singing; the lad sounds like a bullfrog. Maru stirs when he arrives.

"Your hatchling has fed." Geramn gestures to the alcove. "He rests within that small chamber. The lad, Montello, will stay with him until he sleeps."

" _My thanks, Healer."_

"I shall see you later." Geramn turns to the Shaman. "My family came from Assuran; can you take me where they are quartered?"

The Shaman nods. "I know the place, if you are ready?"

Geramn smiles. "You have no idea how ready."

# Chapter 13

Kilita bugles a greeting as five dragons appear in tight formation in the skies above Shadrock Point. An immense bronze turns toward her. The sun glints off his body, highlighting many battle scars. It is Rejack, brother to her mate, Timac. Two of the dragons hold Shaman in their talons, their means of transportation. She watches as the dragons circle low near a clearing, hovering to allow the Shaman to unclip and drop to the ground.

Rejack flies close to her, nodding his head as he hovers. _"Greetings Kilita, mate of my brother."_

" _It is good to see thee, Rejack."_

" _I heard of Timac falling at Taloxville. Know that if thou needs anything, I shall do my best to provide."_

" _Thank thee."_ Kilita forces her thoughts from her dead mate. She does not have time to mourn until they have rescued Aura. Aura will never be free unless they kill the Volastoque that barbed her. " _I believe we need to search to the north-east. It was the direction the attack came from."_

Kilita thrusts her wings downward and with a mighty leap she is airborne. _"There is a chance we may catch up with them this day, if we hurry. The creature that took her sustained an injury, perhaps they did not get far."_ She glances down at the two Shaman who have begun to gather firewood. _"They remain here?"_

" _For three days, they shall await our return. In case Aura needs transported to Kitloch."_

" _I know she took a hit of Killer Frost to her wings, another reason they may not have gotten far."_

The dragons spread out, each only able to see the dragons to each side of them so they are able to perform a wide sweep.

The landscape below surges with mountains slowly fading from the vivid colors of autumn to the drab grays and browns of early winter. The crags and sharp faces of the mountains were once heavily laden with the lairs of dragons. Not so much any more. Over the last five years most dragon pairs fled farther south.

Her gaze searches the ground below. She will miss the Renault Mountains. Their love of the location kept her and Timac here as others left. They had only just decided to make their move when Maru and his mate were able to leave. Aura's clutch of eggs had held her at her lair, and then the additional delay until the hatchlings could fly the required distance.

Once again, images of the slaughtered hatchlings fill her mind. She cannot imagine what vileness must make up these creatures that they could murder the young. She hated them with every fiber in her being. Yet... She still does not think she could kill a clutch of their offspring. Executing the young went against everything the Lady taught them.

She looks to her left; a bright-yellow male scours the land beneath him. She does not know his name, but has seen him at the battle for Taloxville. Blotches of discolored scales show where he has healed from blasts of Killer Frost. Long, jagged scars run along his sides and the membranes in his wings are almost the color of butter, a sign they have recently healed.

So many have been hurt, or fallen in the defense against the creatures. The human population sustains more losses than the dragons, yet the dragons have lost more than sixty percent of their kind.

A movement below catches her eye and she swoops lower to investigate. A hatchling. By the Lady, it is an injured hatchling.

" _I have found another victim."_ She broadcasts in public Mindspeak. She can hear the message being relayed by the other dragons as she circles to land near the brown hatchling. The babe sprawls on its side; one wing flutters weakly as it hears her land and its head flops toward her. Its neck spasms as it threatens her with a feeble hiss.

" _I will not hurt thee, little one,"_ Kilita Mindspeaks and lowers her neck to touch the rock-strewn ground. She looks up the steep incline behind the hatchling. A ledge protrudes from the stone side of the mountain. _"I think there is a lair above."_ She sees the yellow dragon veer to land on the outcropping.

" _I will check,"_ the yellow Mindspeaks, then disappears from sight.

The hatchling is a bit larger than Maru's. The frantic sending that batters her mind is filled with fear and pain.

" _There are two dead adults and nine dead hatchlings up here."_ Horror drips from the yellow's Mindspeak. _"It appears that some of the bodies are partially eaten."_

" _Who?"_ Rejack asks as he arrives.

" _I do not recognize the mated pair; the female is red, the male almost purple in color."_

" _Semic and Gealm,"_ Kilita says. _"I thought they already left to go south. I was not aware Gealm had a clutch."_

The other three dragons arrive, swirling in large circles over their location.

Rejack lands beside her, then looks skyward _. "Mucal, return and bring the two Shaman here."_ His massive bronze head lifts to regard the ledge where the yellow stands. _"It will take a few hours to get the victims' funeral completed."_

A blue dragon breaks off and flies swiftly in the direction of Shadrock point.

Kilita gazes at the brown hatchling, which has begun to calm, curling into a circle around himself as he emits a soft mewling sound. _"We cannot wait that long. To do so risks that the Volastoque we seek will have time to join up with those who killed here."_

Rejack nods. _"Mucal, we shall travel onward. Thou shall remain and help safeguard this hatchling and see him to the caverns at Kitloch."_

Kilita's heart wrenches as she watches the injured hatchling tremble. She inches closer. The brown snarls and bares his tiny teeth in a show of defiance. Remembering Geramn humming to Falcop, she begins a soothing melody. Her voice lifts in the warbling tones of dragon voice as she once again inches forward.

" _I am going to look in the lair."_ Rejack lifts from the ground with a couple of strong wing beats.

Kilita does not bother to answer. The last thing she wants to see is more slaughtered hatchlings. The brown lowers his head, once again trembling as he tries to make himself as small as possible. She edges beside him and lifts one wing to drape over him. She tucks her head under her wing, pressing her cheek tenderly against the hatchling's neck.

The hatchling's tremors lessen, and she snugs him closer to her side and withdraws her head from under her wing. A shadow passes over her and Kilita looks up to see the yellow, carrying the body of a green hatchling, launch from the ledge. She watches with eyes whirling with heartache and anger as he flies to a nearby clearing and deposits the body.

Another funeral pyre will soon light the sky.

The anger surges through her, becoming a molten flow of rage. These innocents shall be avenged.

~!~

Geramn and his guide appear beside a mural of dragons in flight. The wall is smooth as glass and the mural's details etch the surface and are colored by some means that sets them aglow in the soft light. The mural is at least twenty strides long and perhaps ten high and covers one side of a chamber bustling with people. The buzz of conversation comes from several small clusters of people while children chase each other through the crowd in play.

"This is where the Assuran refugees are quartered." The Shaman gestures to a raised area near the center with several people sitting upon stools behind large tables filled with parchment. "They have lists of assigned apartments; you should have no problem locating your family."

"My thanks." Geramn tugs his forelock and rapid steps take him toward the center platform. Three massive oak tables, their surfaces smooth as glass, are situated in a triangle pattern on top of the platform. Scrolls and books are piled high on all three. The chairs around the table are filled with people perusing the scrolls or writing in ledgers. Geramn pauses at the bottom of the platform, trying to decide who it is he needs to approach.

A stooped-shouldered elder, his hair sticking up in silver wisps around a bald crown, looks down at Geramn. "What is it you need, Healer?"

Geramn tugs on his forelock. "I seek information on my family's location. They came from Assuran."

The elder's bleary eyes rove the table, then he gestures for a brown-haired youth to hand him a large ledger. The tomb lands with a loud thump in front of the elder and he scowls at the youth, who blushes and lowers his eyes. The elder runs a gnarled hand over the tomb's cover, peering at the script across the front. He nods and glances at Geramn. "What is the Sire name?"

"My name is Geramn."

Geramn fidgets while the old man opens the book and slowly turns pages. He clears his throat on occasion as the elder leans forward to squint at the parchment only inches from his long nose.

The old man runs a finger down three-quarters the length of a page. His finger stops and he licks his lips. "Mate, Sheina, and three children?" He raises soot-grey eyes to meet Geramn's gaze.

"Yes, that would be them."

The elder nods; his gaze rakes a handful of boys standing a short distance from the platform. "Elish, come here."

A stout lad of perhaps twelve winters separates from the others and ambles over, tugging on his black hair as he arrives beside Geramn. He folds his hands in front of him and waits politely for the elder to speak.

"You know the third cavern?" The elder gestures to his right.

"Yes, Nor," Elish says.

"Apartment two-oh-two. This Healer needs to be directed there. See that you return promptly." The old man closes the book and shoves it aside to resume his perusal of the scroll he worked on previously.

"My thanks, Nor." Geramn tugs on his forelock.

The elder waves a dismissive hand at him, not even looking up.

The lad turns with a friendly smile to Geramn and gestures that he should follow. Elish leads him, across the tide of people flowing through the cavern, toward an arch on the right.

They enter a spacious tunnel and join the flow on the right side. An entrance to a large cavern comes up on their left, but Elish shakes his head, continuing down the tunnel.

"You are not from Assuran, are you?" Geramn asks as they walk along. "I should remember you as I have boys almost your age."

Elish glances at him; a hint of anger glints in his eyes. "No. I am one of the few survivors from Preloch."

"My sister and her family were there. Tecla, mated to Fancur."

Elish, his face tight with emotion, replies, "I knew her sons."

"Knew?" Geramn puts a hand on Elish's arm to stop him. "Are they not here, with the others?"

The traffic of the tunnel flows around them for a moment as Elish stares at the stone floor. Finally his green eyes lift to meet Geramn's gaze. "Both perished at Preloch." He clears his throat. "I am so sorry to be the one to tell you."

Geramn sways and moves his hand to press against the smooth sides of the tunnel as a tidal wave of grief washes over him. "Both?"

"And Fancur." Elish takes a deep breath then rushes on. "Your sister was grievously injured. I understand the Healers still work with her to restore her ability to walk."

Geramn closes his eyes, remembering his mate's message only said that Tecla was there with Sheina; he assumed that meant that she and her family were safe and unharmed.

Tecla's boys were a couple winters older than his own sons. Only this past winter he had stood bursting with pride beside his sister as the eldest, Davigh, made his pledge to enter the ranks of Healers as apprentice. They were gone, along with their sire. By the Lady, his sister must be devastated, to loose her mate, her children, and be so injured at one time. His chest aches with the anguish of loss. He takes several steadying breaths as Elish waits patiently beside him. Finally, he pushes away from the wall and gestures that they should continue.

He tries to push the sorrow deep inside. He must not greet his family with this weighing on him.

Elish moves across the tide of people as they come to the third arch. "In here." He motions they should exit the tunnel. A large, bowl-shaped cavern opens before them. Stairs have been carved in the sides to reach five different levels that hold doorways. Elish makes his way to the closest stairs that wind up the sides. Taking the stairs two at a time, he pauses to wait for Geramn at the second level. "It is the second apartment that way." He points to the left. "The number two-zero-two is carved on the face of the door."

"My thanks." Geramn pats the youth on the shoulder as he passes, pasting a smile on his face to greet his family.

# Chapter 14

Kilita and three of the dragons wing northeast. Rage pulses through her; the other three fly with grim fortitude, searching. Their formation spreads across a wide swathe of the Renault Mountains. They fly slowly, with their gazes alert to the sky and the ground below them.

Eleven dead and one survivor—the hatchling severely injured at Semic and Gealm's lair—and seven dead, one missing at that of Maru and Aura. Her wings falter as her mind shudders in horror. Are the beasts targeting the lairs with hatchlings? She jerks her wings into motion and shakes her head at the look from Rejack, who flies closest to her.

She searches her mind. Where are the other lairs in the vicinity with young?

As far as she knows, all have left the area. But then again, she thought Semic and Gealm had already headed south. She struggles with the thought. If she does not bring it up, so that Rejack can send a dragon to warn them, others may die. But, they are already reduced to four in the search. If they come across the Volastoque who controls Aura, and he joined with a covey, they are already low in numbers for the confrontation.

An image of the cringing brown hatchling pops into her mind.

" _Rejack, there are four other lairs in the Renault Mountains that produced young this season."_

The Bronze turns his head to contemplate her; she can see his eyes open wide as her implication sinks in. Kilita tilts her wings to the left to broaden the area she searches as she listens to Rejack instruct the other two dragons as to the location of the lairs. The bright-yellow male dragon and the smaller green dragon turn and pelt through the sky toward different locations of lairs, to give warning or search for survivors.

Rejack swings to the right, and flies a wide, zigzag pattern that allows him to encompass the area the green vacated. Kilita settles into a similar flight pattern, her heart heavy at the thought of what the two dragons may find.

~!~

Geramn raps on the door. His gaze drops to his soiled clothing. He should have taken a moment to clean up before coming. The sound of a light footstep comes from within and his breath catches in his throat as his mate opens the door.

Sheina's emerald eyes open wide and, with a squeal, she flings herself into his arms.

He enfolds her small body against his chest and leans to bury his nose in her jet-black tresses. He inhales deeply. The familiar scent of his mate, reminiscent of crisp cucumbers, immediately makes him feel at home. He kisses the top of her head.

Sheina pulls a few inches away and her hands rise to settle on each side of his face. The emerald depth of her eyes draws him in as she inspects him through shimmering tears. "By the Lady, I have missed you." She drops her arms to clutch his neck and stands on tiptoe to press her lips against his in a deep kiss.

Geramn's heart pounds in his ears by the time he releases her.

"Sire?"

Geramn looks over his mate's head to see his sons. He steps into the apartment and opens his arms and the two boys rush to fill them as Sheina slips away. He ruffles his eldest Bren's black shock of hair—so like his dama's—and marvels at the height the ten-winters-old boy shot up since last he saw him. Jiles, at eight winters, is a chubby replica of Geramn, from his black hair and sky-blue eyes to the same broad, flat cheekbones. The boys' laughter is a balm to his soul as he tousles with his sons.

"Someone else would like to see her sire."

Geramn turns to find his mate standing in the archway leading into the room, holding little Rekia. The one-winter-old little girl regards him with solemn brown eyes as she sucks on two fingers. His eyes mist as he takes in the lovely image of his mate holding their daughter. Sheina's eyes are warm with love and her lips lift in a soft smile. Abundant curls, the color of butter, frame Rekia's face, giving her an adorable halo.

He eases across the room, so as not to frighten the child, and runs one finger along her chubby arm. "She is as beautiful as her dama," he says, his gaze lifting to meet Sheina's.

"And ornery as her sire." Sheina chuckles. Slipping her empty arm about his waist, she walks him over to a pile of large cushions in front of a fireplace. She lowers Rekia into the cushions and motions that he should sit beside the child as she settles behind her daughter.

Geramn eases down beside his child and motions the two boys over to join them. Tranquility fills him as he gazes at his family. Then his throat tightens, picturing the devastation at Maru's lair and remembering the deaths of his nephews and brother-by-mating. By the Lady, there is so much at stake in this battle against the creatures.

~!~

The sun pulls in her skirts and tucks them away causing shadows to sweep across the mountains beneath Kilita as the fiery orb settles on the horizon. Kilita lifts her searching gaze to study the skyline. Nothing, only a few sparse clouds with their underbellies glowing in the setting sun break the deep blue of the sky. She can barely make out Rejack as the bronze dragon continues his sweeps to the east.

As she watches, Rejack dives groundward and his battle roar breaks the quiet. Her right wing dips and she turns, forcing strong downward thrusts as she rushes toward where Rejack disappears from view. She sideslips, loosing altitude rapidly to skim the barren treetops.

There.

Aura's mahogany form stands in front of a narrow, twisting canyon, really no more than a crevice cutting into the slate sides of the mountain. Her posture causes Kilita to swallow hard, for Aura defends the Volastoque crouched well behind her in the same manner she stood against the beasts at her nest.

Rejack circles in the air above the area, seeking a means to get past Aura and attack the Volastoque. The walls of the narrow canyon are too high, and steep; he cannot fly in to attack the creature.

Aura's attention is locked on Rejack, as is that of the tan brute lying sprawled behind her. Staying low, Kilita hovers as she studies the creature. It appears injured; its left wing twists at a strange angle beside it.

Kilita flies rapidly until an eroded, wind-sculpted peak stands between her and the canyon entrance.

She private Mindspeaks to the bronze, _"Rejack, I am going to see if there is an entrance behind him. Do not attack, as Aura is already injured and she will engage thee in battle and be hurt more."_

" _She is weak. I will flee from her advances. I would never harm a dragon intentionally."_

" _I know."_ Kilita scowls as she follows the path of the deep chasm winding up the mountain. It is crowded with stunted trees and underbrush for most of its length. _"That ravine gets narrower as it rises. I do not think I will be able to land."_

" _Perhaps I can lure her away from the entrance; I do not think she is aware thou is here."_

" _She will still see me if I enter from that side and if she turns on me in that narrow area... Well, it could be bad."_ She bends in a slow arc, her eyes trailing along the slanting slash in the mountain to where she can see Rejack feinting attacks at the mouth of the gulch. _"Keep well back from Aura; I shall try to drive him out."_

She draws in a deep breath and ignites her battle flames. She lines up to fly down the twisting path of the ravine. Her flames hit the trees and they begin to burn. Swooping in close to the rim, she swings her head to set fire to as much of the area as possible. The searing flames blast the trees, turning them and the underbrush into a raging inferno.

She can see the bronze, his scales aglow in the setting sun, dart in to tantalize Aura into pursuit as she nears the Volastoque. Taking another deep inhale, she blasts the creature with her battle fires.

The beast emits a keening wail as he thrashes under the assault. Shutting off her flame, she reaches for altitude, her wings powering her into a steep climb. Smoke billows up behind her and she cants to the right to break clear of the black cloud.

Where is Aura?

Kilita pulls into a tight downward spiral. She searches frantically for the mahogany and bronze dragons. In the glare of the setting sun she sees them. Rejack's frenzied efforts to evade the mahogany have led them quite a distance away. She watches as his erratic flight pattern manages to keep him ahead of Aura. Even at this distance she can see Aura's grim determination to engage in battle.

Folding her wings, Kilita plummets to the entrance of the gully. She back-wings at the last moment and lands. Her talons scratch across the stony ground as she rushes into the billowing smoke.

Squinting, she searches for the beast. A harsh cry pulls her forward. A flicker of movement is her only warning as a barb hurls at her through the billowing smoke. She ducks, flattening against the stony slope of the ravine. The barb whistles past, missing her by a mere handspan.

She rises and turns toward the direction from which it came. She stretches her senses, trying to locate the beast, and avoid further barbs. The heat from the fire beats at her, making each step forward a battle of will against the high temperature's assault.

The glow of the creature's golden eyes emerges from the swirling clouds of smoke and she side-steps just in time to avoid a second barb. Her battle flames precede her as she claws her way onward.

The tan plates of the Volastoque gleam in the firelight as her flames scorch across his back and dual wings. The beast screeches and scrambles on three legs, the fourth twisted at an odd angle, as he lurches through the flames to meet her attack. Its enormous, serrated-teeth-filled mouth slashes for her throat.

Dodging sideways, she continues her fiery assault. Her blaze blasts the beast full in the mouth and its forked tongue shrivels under the flames. It lurches forward, clamping its jaws at the base of her neck. Pain radiates from its bite as its head slings from side-to-side and serrated teeth saw through her scales.

She reels in pain as her talons grasp the massive head. She extends her claws to pierce through its nasal orifice and struggles to pry the jaws open. The muscles in her shoulders and chest ache as she exerts all her strength. The jaw remains locked on her neck. Kilita swings her long neck down, twisting her head to grasp the thinly protected under-jaw in her teeth, and yanks. Blood flings from the crescent-shaped wound as the creature's jaws break free.

Her hind legs jerk from the ground as she pulls the beast close with her fore-talons. Kilita presses her thorax against his, locking the upper body against her. The Volastoque's head flails and its front claws scramble uselessly at her side as her hind talons rip along his lower body. The coppery scent of blood fills her nostrils as the beast's entrails tumble from the wounds.

Clenching double clawfuls of the hot, slimy ropes hanging from the wounds, she heaves. Putrid offal spurts from the intestines as she rips them from the creature's body cavity. Wings laboring, she releases her hold on the Volastoque's jaw and struggles skyward. Vast loops of intestines cascade below her as she labors to achieve altitude.

An agony-filled shriek of the Volastoque mingles with the deafening roar of the burning trees as she slowly achieves altitude. Her wings batter against the sheer sides of the canyon, sending jolts of pain down their lengths. Muscles burning with effort, her wings whipping in a blur, she lifts the enormous creature to dangle by its bowels. Wrenching sideways, she slings the beast into the hottest inferno beneath her. A horrid squeal follows its plunge.

Smoke chokes Kilita as she flounders to clear the canyon's sides, the creature's wails echoing through the narrow chasm. She surges clear of the smoke and heat as the wail abruptly cuts off behind her.

Relief washes over her. The Volastoque is dead. She closes her eyes for a moment, once again envisioning the slaughter at Aura's lair. The hatchlings are avenged. Thank the Lady, Aura is now free from that creature. With weary strokes of her wings, she turns to find Rejack and the mahogany dragon so that they can take Aura to Maru.

~!~

"You cannot just lie there. Trella, get up." The strident voice drops to a whisper. "You cannot be dead too."

Trella forces her eyes open, just a slit. _"Child?"_

Pearlitta throws her tiny body against Trella's snout. A radiant smile breaks across her filthy, tear-stained face. "I thought you died."

Trella winces at the waves of pain coursing through her body. _"I think I came real close."_ Gently pushing the girl back, Trella raises her head. Dizziness threatens to overwhelm her and she closes her eyes, remaining motionless as the waves pass. Forcing her eyes open she searches the sky. _"The attack?"_

"They are gone. At least the few that survived." Pearlitta glances over her shoulder, drawing Trella's gaze to the bloody wreck of the Volastoque she and Natal had slain.

Natal.

Pain surges across her neck as she turns. The carnation-red dragon lies beside her, his scales already losing the luster of life. She chokes back a sob of grief as she recalls his attack on the Volastoque which saved her life.

"I am sorry for your loss; he seemed like a nice dragon." Pearlitta moves close and gently strokes Trella on the chest. "I will go find a Healer for you."

Forcing her gaze from the lifeless form of Natal, Trella inspects her surroundings. The cries of the injured and dying, both human and dragon, penetrate the haze that has engulfed her since she regained consciousness.

Beacons of light break the dying twilight across the convoy. A good twenty percent of the convoy's wagons are in flames. Several score of injured, dead, or dying humans are in her immediate vicinity. By the level of wailing, both of pain and grief, she is certain that number is much higher across the convoy.

Crumpled forms of dragons and Volastoque splatter across the area. Healers are working on many of the dragons and humans, but she can tell many are past their help.

" _Pearlitta, is thou injured?"_ Trella swings her head down to peruse the tiny human.

"Only a sprained wrist." Pearlitta gives her a reassuring smile. "Not even as bad as when I fell out of my swing and broke it."

" _Then remain with me, child. There are many more grievously injured who require the Healer's aid."_

"But, your wing."

" _My wing is shattered, yet none of my injuries are life-threatening. The Healers need to tend to those with the most need, first."_

Pulling her cloak more snuggly around her, Pearlitta sits to lean back against Trella's chest.

"I will stay with you until they can come take care of you."

Trella curls her neck around her body, enclosing the child.

Pearlitta's voice, barely above a whisper, comes to her, "I do not understand. Why do they keep attacking us?"

Trella pauses to consider her answer; at thirteen winters, this child has lived with the attacks throughout her life. _"No one knows. They simply showed up and started killing dragons and humans."_ She sighs. _"All attempts to communicate with the Volastoque fail."_

"Did we do something to make them mad?"

" _I think the fact we exist is enough. Some creatures do not follow the Lady and without her teachings, they can be driven by instinct alone."_

"Why does the Lady not talk with them?"

" _I am sure She has, perhaps they cannot hear Her or do not listen."_

"I want them to go away."

" _Yes, child, so do I."_

She closes her eyes and sends a prayer to the Lady for the injured and for those lost in this battle. The soft crying of Pearlitta tugs at her heart and she vows to ensure the child is returned to her sire safely.

# Chapter 15

Aura's wings falter in mid-stoke and her body jolts as the Master's death releases her mind. In a daze she flutters groundward. Her landing is rough as she trembles with aftershocks of loathing and revulsion from her servitude.

She crumples to the cold, stone-littered earth. Her mind reels, reliving the harsh guttural commands that held her immobile as the creature slaughtered her children. Anguish boils across her, inflicting additional pain upon her battered body. She barely glances up as the bronze lands a short distance away. She shudders, queasy with a swirl of emotions. Aura has looked into the heart of her enemy, and still fails to comprehend the hatred that compels the Volastoque.

A second dragon, Kilita, lands. Aura raises her head to peer with bleary eyes at her neighbor. A large, jagged wound at the base of Kilita's neck spills a bright-red path of blood down the green dragon's chest. Kilita's golden eyes are still bright with battle rage, her body tense as a coiled spring as she folds her wings and settles to the ground. Fresh scars from Kilita's battle at the lair spider her sides.

Aura's head drops and she sends in guilt-laden Mindspeak, _"I am so sorry."_

" _Aura, thou did not have any choice."_ Kilita glances at the male bronze. _"Rejack knows the beast controlled thy actions."_

Aura glances at the male. _"Did I harm thee?"_

Rejack ruffles his wings then allows them to settle against his side. _"Not more than a warming of my scales."_

" _Come, thy mate and hatchling await thy return."_

Aura's head jerks toward the green. _"One of my hatchlings survived? And Maru?"_

Kilita nods, her eyes welling in compassion. _"Falcop and Maru await thee in safety. Maru was injured, but heals, and Falcop is uninjured."_

Aura collapses, relief washing through her.

" _I shall start back to the Shaman."_ Rejack gazes to the southeast. _"As the two of ye can, make your way in a straight line toward_ _Shadrock Point. I will try to bring the Shaman to you, should I find him available before ye have made it that far. If not, we will know where to find you."_

" _I want to go to Maru and Falcop."_

Kilita curves her neck and methodically begins to cleanse her wound, slowly, through strokes of her tongue that bathe the gash. _"They have been taken to the caverns at Kitloch. Thou is too weak to fly that far. Indeed I am not sure I may sustain flight that long a distance with this wound."_ She glances at Rejack. _"We will make our way as we can."_

The bronze nods, raising his wings.

" _My thanks to thee, Rejack."_

His golden eyes, bright with compassion, meet hers. _"We but took back our own. Rest, then make thy way to Shadrock Point. I would see thee reunited with thy mate and child."_ Two strong downstrokes have him airborne.

She watches as the male arrows southeast, his scales molten in the rays of the setting sun. She looks back at Aura. The bleeding has slowed, but the wound still seeps blood. _"Can thou fly with that wound?"_

" _Not well, but we need to remove ourselves from the vicinity of that fire."_ Kilita glances at the flames raging in the gully. _"The light and odor may draw others of his kind."_

Hatred and resolve stiffen her spine and Aura scrambles to her feet. _"I would love to kill more of those beasts."_

" _No,"_ Kilita's Mindspeak is soft but firm. _"Neither of us is in condition to engage them in battle. Fly true to southeast and we should make it to Shadrock Point by mid-morning."_ She unfurls her wings and with a painful grimace launches into the air. She looks back at Aura. _"Come, I promised thy mate I would return thee to him."_

Aura launches. Her heart and thoughts on her reunion with her mate, she does not notice the flicker to the north from a set of large wings.

~!~

Two sunrises after the attack, the faint light of pre-dawn simmers across the sky as a Shaman transports Trella with her young charge to the location selected for the funeral pyre. It took her the better part of the previous evening to convince them she would not leave, not before she paid her final respects to Natal and the others who lost their lives in defense of the convoy.

Her wing juts behind her at an awkward angle as she settles on the hillside above where seven dragon bodies, Natal's amongst them, have been laid out in tight spiral layers that form a cone of bodies on the rocky ground. The oils used to coat their bodies bring an ethereal shine to their scales. Three other injured dragons rest near Trella, their countenances reflecting the pain of their injuries and grief combined. Beyond the cone of dead dragons, humans congregate in a respectful mass. They committed their dead to the ground the previous afternoon in a ceremony that Trella found touching, and that left Pearlitta in tears.

Silence rules, except for the birdsong greeting the new day. The nine remaining, uninjured or already Healed dragons form a circle around their dead comrades. Dawn's first rays slash across the hills, striking the dead dragons and setting their scales aglow. The circled dragons inhale and, as one, they ignite their battle flames.

The whoosh of the flames shatters the quiet. The oil catches rapidly and soon the dead dragons are ablaze. The circled dragons cease their infernal onslaught and each of their throats begins to quiver and a low thrum fills the air. Pulsing in a wild rhythm reminiscent of winds driving waves in a storm, it builds until Trella's body vibrates with the cadence. She and the other injured dragons add their own thrumming to the symphony and she begins to sway along with the pulse.

A brown male, Helthan—one of the circled dragons—stretches his long neck skyward and a musical trill rises above the deep thrumming. A black female beside him points her nose up and adds a whistle two tones lower; her call weaves in and out around the brown's trill. An enormous black male with gold-tinged wings adds a deep bass call of "Ahh-NAa, Ahh-Naa," the sound so resonant it can be felt as well as heard.

The bodies crackle as the fire consumes them while Trella and the other injured dragons keep up the steady, driving, rhythmic thrum. One by one all the dragons in the circle add their voices, blending into a melody that celebrates the lives of their lost comrades. The song swells for over an hour.

Helthan lowers his neck and his strident bugle silences the singers; only the injured dragons continue to softly thrum the pulsing rhythm.

" _We dedicate our fallen to the Lady."_ Helthan's Mindspeak rings out across those gathered. _"We beseech Thee, Lady of the Mist, have mercy on these who have sacrificed their lives for others and guide them as they go forth upon their journey from this world. We call to Thee in grief and sorrow: help us to know Thy presence in the dark emptiness of these trying times."_

Trella and Pearlitta join with the others in the response. _"May Thy gentle hand guide us."_

Deep sorrow fills Helthan's black eyes as he leads them in the forlorn death song.

Trella's heart feels crushed as she bids a final farewell to Natal. Pearlitta hums along with the death song as she presses close to Trella's chest. Somehow, her presence there feels right.

~!~

A screech claws into his sleep and Maru jolts awake, his battle fires already igniting as the call of his offspring wrenches him from sleep. In the small alcove, Falcop stands, his wings fully extended and his neck low to the stone floor as he hisses at a trembling youth. The youth has frozen a few strides into the chamber, clutching a fresh bale of bedding and a rake in front of him like a shield.

" _Falcop, leave off. He is no threat; he but seeks to clean thy nest."_ Maru watches as his son folds his wings and grudgingly steps to the far wall of the chamber.

The gangly lad throws Maru a grateful glance over his shoulder.

Maru tamps back his battle flames and nods. _"_ _Montello, thou shall not come to harm, proceed."_

The terror in the young man's brown eyes somewhat abates and he moves gingerly toward the nest.

Falcop narrows his eyes and glares at the young man, but remains motionless.

Montello lowers the bale of straw and applies the rake to clean away discarded shards from the hatchling's last meal. His blond head pivots on his neck in a constant attempt to keep both his work and the green hatchling within his view. He sweeps the bone shards into the pile on the right side of the cavern where Falcop leaves his droppings.

Maru settles back in the warm, amber waters and keeps an eye on the proceedings in the alcove. His body aches, everywhere.

The Healers have worked on him three times since their arrival midday the day before. They say his head wound is as improved as they can make it; now it must complete healing on its own. The piercing headache he has had since his crash has abated, leaving but a dull ache.

In the alcove, Falcop settles to his stomach as he watches Montello add the fresh bedding to the nest, using his rake to fluff the pile.

Maru swings his head around to study the wounds upon his back. Most of these are closed and only the pucker of his black scales indicates their location. He cannot see the gashes on his belly, but even as he sifts in the water, the ultra-sensitive burned flesh of the wounds testifies that they are nowhere near healed.

A grumbling from the alcove pulls his attention back to his son. Falcop growls as the lad pushes a handcart into the alcove.

" _My son, I have told thee to leave off."_

Falcop lowers his head to the stone floor and Maru can feel a tentative touch from the hatchling's mind. Falcop is afraid, lonely, and hungry.

" _Montello, if thou would. My hatchling hungers. Perhaps, if thou could bring him food, his attitude may improve."_

The youth stops, drops the handles of the cart, and, turning toward Maru, tugs on his forelock. His voice rings clear across the space separating them. "Nor Maru, I was going to bring him his feeding when I completed cleaning."

" _He is too young to have found patience."_

"Of course, I will get it now." Montello turns the cart toward the location in the cavern where the food is stored.

" _When thou has finished, I would not find a deer or two amiss, myself."_

The lad throws a nod over his shoulders, never breaking stride as he rushes to get Falcop's food. Maru settles a bit lower in the water. Falcop prowls around his alcove, then settles in his newly freshened nest. Maru gazes around the large chamber, noting at least four other dragons soak in the Healing waters besides him. The chamber is a hive of activity; many humans scurry about intent on errands as others prepare the foodstuffs or perform Healings on dragons or, over to one side, on humans in a separate alcove.

The alcove for the human Healings is packed. He can see over a score of sleeping platforms from his position, all filled with injured people. From the buzz of conversation in that alcove, he can tell there are many more out of his sight within the chamber. A tall arch to his left apparently leads to chambers for recovering dragons, as he has seen the ones who now lie submerged in the water come from that entrance.

Montello trundles the cart back, loaded with cuts of goat. He enters Falcop's alcove and pauses near the entrance to pitch a fore-leg in front of the green hatchling. Falcop sets upon it with voracious appetite. The lad continues to sling the meat to the hatchling until the cart is empty. Maru can feel the satisfaction welling from his son as Falcop surveys the pile while he consumes the first piece.

Keeping a watchful eye on the hatchling, Montello shoves the cart from the alcove. "Nor Maru, I shall bring you a deer. Do you need it cut up?"

" _No, lad, there is nothing wrong with my jaws."_

Montello grins and strides toward the provision area, the cart squeaking along in front of him.

"You seem much improved."

Maru turns his head to find Healer Geramn striding across the cavern toward him. The healer no longer appears bedraggled. He is fresh-shaven, sports a new haircut and a bright green tunic with the three diagonal amber slashes of his profession embroidered on the front. _"As does thou."_

Geramn grins, tugging at the front of the tunic. "My mate made this for me."

" _I am happy to see thee well-rested. Thy efforts for me and my son had worn thee to a frazzle."_

Geramn turns his gaze to study Falcop. "Your hatchling seems to have settled in."

" _Only while he is feeding, he is lonely and scared. I cannot do much to alleviate that until I may leave these waters."_

"What can I do to help?" Geramn steps a short distance away as Montello arrives and dumps a deer carcass in front of Maru.

The youth slides the cart out from under the deer and looks up at Maru. "This one is fresh-slain. I can bring you another, but the others are from last nightfall's kill."

" _My thanks."_ Maru reaches and shears the forequarters from the deer. _"I do believe I will take another, if thou would be so kind."_

Montello nods and turns his cart back toward the provision area.

Maru crunches on the deer; it is barely warm, but rich with fat as it is a young doe.

"Perhaps you can give me some insights to his personality that may help us in working with him."

Maru swallows the venison and turns saddened eyes to the Healer. _"It grieves me to say, however, I do not know mine own son. Aura stayed with the clutch. I have been gone more than I have been home since the hatching."_ He shakes his head. _"I felt the threat of the Volastoque held precedence. I thought there would be plenty of time to get to know mine offspring. And now, I am relegated to these Healing waters and not much comfort to my son."_

"So, until Aura is returned, Falcop needs comforting. Someone he can get to know who will allay his fears." Geramn watches Montello loading the second deer into his cart, his expression thoughtful. "He needs a friend in this place, so it will not seem so frightening and strange to him."

Maru follows the Healer's gaze and considers Montello in this new light. The lad appears anxious to please. He shows himself brave, yet cautious, in his dealings with Falcop. And furthermore, he himself had seen the loss in the young man's eyes. Montello too has suffered, even as Maru's son has. _"Yes, I can see what thou means; they could be good for each other."_

"Speak with him, and I will find out who is in charge of these young men to see if it can be arranged for him to spend time with Falcop." Geramn nods at the young man as he returns with the laden cart and walks off.

Maru thanks Montello for the additional deer then relays his and the Healer's thoughts. He watches as incredibleness, and then interest, passes over the boy's features. Yes, this may work out very well. For the first time since he found Aura under attack, Maru has hope in his heart.

# Chapter 16

Trella eases her way to the bank of the warm Healing lake, mindful that she not use her injured wing any more than necessary as she swims. Pearlitta stands awaiting her on the shore. The child wears a new tunic and her brown hair gleams from washing.

"He should be here soon," Pearlitta calls as Trella nears her. "They said he is working with a dragon named Estrola and her covey will be back before midday meal."

Trella watches with amusement as the usually stoic child jumps up and down in excitement. _"Thou is excited to see him."_

Pearlitta nods, her eyes sparkling. "It has been almost two winters since he left." She strokes her simple blue skirt and then reaches to smooth her hair. "Do I look alright?"

" _Thou looks lovely."_

"Lady Blessings, Nora Trella."

Trella looks over to see the Healer who has worked on her wing approach. _"And to thee, Healer Geramn. May I introduce Pearlitta. Pearlitta, this is the Healer who has repaired my wing."_

Pearlitta tugs on her forelock and smiles at the Healer. "Good day to you, Healer Geramn."

Geramn smiles at the child. "I was going to check your wing, Trella, but since you have company I can return later."

" _I would not want to inconvenience thee, Healer Geramn."_

"You can do it now. I am waiting for my sire; he should be here before midday meal."

Healer Geramn nods and gestures beside him on the shore. "Very well. Trella, if you can place your wing here, I should not be but a moment in checking."

Trella moves broadside to the shore and carefully lifts her wing to where he indicates. The wing does not hurt any more; it is stiff and unwieldy but free of pain. The Healer lays both hands upon her wing and his eyes take on the glazed look she has come to associate with him using his power.

"Ahh," Pearlitta exclaims softly, her eyes riveted to the soft amber glow emanating from the Healer's hands. "Does that happen every time?" she asks, her eyes wide with wonder.

Trella chuckles. _"Yes."_

A short distance away, a huge midnight-blue dragon and a tall, bearded Shaman appear in the cavern. The man glances around, then his gaze locks on them.

"Pearlitta!" the deep voice of the Shaman calls.

Pearlitta's eyes jerk to the man. "Sire!" The child practically flies across the cavern to leap into her sire's arms.

The man holds her tightly, his eyes welling with tears as he says her name over and over. Trella can feel her heart swelling with joy.

Geramn withdraws from his trance. "I have done all I can; your wing will simply take time to finish healing on its own."

" _My thanks, Healer."_

"Trella! He is here!" Pearlitta drags her sire across the stone floor to beside the lake. Her face writhes in a smile as they reach Trella. "Sire, this is my friend, Trella."

Belnarth places a hand on Trella's neck. "I cannot tell you how thankful I am that you aided my daughter."

" _It was my honor to do so, Shaman Belnarth."_

"She brought me here to live with you." Pearlitta jumps up and down, pumping her sire's hand.

"I am afraid that is not possible, little one." Belnarth kneels to be face to face with his daughter. "I do not live here, I travel with Estrola."

The midnight-blue dragon joins them, her head lowering to gaze at the child. _"Thy sire is my bonding mate."_

Pearlitta glares at the large dragon. "I remember you. You are the reason he was not able to stay with me and my dama."

"Pearlitta, you do not understand, it is not that way at all." Belnarth attempts to pull the child into an embrace.

Pearlitta jerks away, moving closer to Trella. "Of course it is. I heard you and dama arguing many times about the fact you could not take her to mate, because of your pledge to that Lady-be-damned dragon."

"That is enough, young lady; you will speak with respect." Belnarth stands and glowers at his daughter.

"She showed no respect to me or dama, taking you away." Pearlitta, both hands fisted and on her hips, glares up at the man.

"Enough, Pearlitta!"

" _Belnarth, it is fine, thy youngling does not understand."_ The Mindspeak comes from Estrola, her large, green eyes whirl in a slow dance with golden specks from the light of the cavern's orbs.

Belnarth gives an apologetic smile to Healer Geramn and Trella. "My apologies, my daughter can be quite outspoken." He reaches for Pearlitta's hand, but she tucks both hands behind her back and scoots closer to Trella. "Come along, Pearlitta. We shall find the family I left you with. I shall make arrangements for your care here. We should be able to visit more often with you at Kitloch."

" _I am afraid, Shaman Belnarth, the convoy is still en-route, and they are not headed to this cavern."_ Trella lays her head beside Pearlitta. _"I insisted they transport Pearlitta with me, as I promised her to bring her to her sire. I have grown fond of the child as well."_

Pearlitta beams up at Trella as her sire scratches his head. "Well, then. I am not sure how, but we will make arrangements for you here; perhaps I can find another family that will care for you."

Pearlitta shakes her head. "Not likely, that last family was unhappy with taking in a bastard."

Shaman Belnarth ducks his head; a faint rush of red colors his cheeks. "Perhaps a dormitory then."

"She is a bit young to be placed in the youth dormitories," Healer Geramn comments, his gaze thoughtful.

"I am thirteen winters old," Pearlitta insists. "Not a child."

"No, you are not." Belnarth glances at Estrola then scratches his head, his eyes thoughtful. "Yet you are too young to remain alone while we are away."

Geramn grins. "I may have a solution." He leans down to be at eye level with the girl. "My mate would welcome you. We have a large apartment, and my two boys are close to your age."

Pearlitta stares at him, her gaze appraising.

"Are you sure your mate would approve?" Shaman Belnarth looks back and forth between his daughter and the Healer, his expression a bit confused.

Geramn holds his hand out to the child. "Come along, Pearlitta. You and your sire can come and talk to Sheina. We shall see what we can work out."

Pearlitta glances up at Trella, and at her nod, takes the proffered hand. The three of them make their way to an exit.

Trella looks back at the blue dragon. _"She is a special little girl."_

" _Yes. Belnarth is very proud of her, as he should be."_ Estrola glances at Trella's wing. "Tell me about yourself, Trella. Is thou mated?"

~!~

Jadrun pulls his tunic off and slumps upon his sleeping platform. His body aches from too little sleep and his mind reels with the briefing he just left. Shaman Hern led the Council's meeting with admirable calm. He kept to the facts and outlined suggestions already brought forth. Still, it did not lessen the impact of the news imparted.

They are losing.

On every front, and at every battle, the Palmir People and their ally dragons sustain significantly higher losses than the creatures.

He drops the tunic to the floor and absently scratches old scars angling across his chest. His hand brushes the green crystal suspended on a chain around his neck and he grasps it, holding it out to catch the light. The source of his transportation power, the crystal is nearly the length and thickness of his pinky finger. He twists it, admiring the way the light skips along its faceted sides.

Ironic that such a small thing changed his life so much.

He had only just passed his fifteenth winter when the Society came to his town. They were, at that time, unknown to the Palmir People. A Society of Shaman who pledged their lives and work to the protection and betterment of the Palmir People. At fifteen winters he was considered an adult, and free to make his own choice if he wished to join them.

It was Shaman Hern who approached him, a much younger and vibrant man than the one he just left at the latest of many meetings. Jadrun chuckles; he isn't so young any more himself. Twenty-five winters have passed since he left his home and traveled with Hern to the secret location where the Shaman initiated recruits into the skills of the crystal magic. The last five of those years he spent, with the other Shaman, using his powers to help battle the Volastoque.

He is tired, depressed from the fruitless search for Blanche, and yearns to recapture the simpler life swept away by the Volastoque incursions. His youngest son, Montello, is the only child remaining yet alive from his union with his lost mate, Blanche. Montello's and Herlan's instruction as a Shaman had only started a moon before when they were interrupted by the attacks on their village. Jadrun wishes he had brought his family here a few moons ago, when Shaman Hern assigned Jadrun to this location as his home base. Perhaps then Herlan would yet be alive, and Blanche at his side... instead of missing, taken as minion to those beasts, or dead herself. No. He forces himself not to consider that. He must remain positive, if only for Montello's sake.

Their apartment was empty when he arrived home after the meeting, Montello already out on his assigned chores for the day. Jadrun yawns, trying to decide if he has the energy to find his son or if he should seek him out after getting some rest. The leaden feel of his movements, and the fact he can barely keep his eyes open, decides him.

Jadrun eases off his footwear and lowers himself onto his sleeping platform. He must leave again to search for Blanche. However, it will not be safe for him to transport again until he allows his body to recharge. The crystal pulls upon the energy of the user to perform. If he is not strong enough... Jadrun has no intention of joining those unfortunate disappearing Shaman who never arrived anywhere. His mind wrestles with his duty to the Palmir People and his need to find his wife. Jadrun knows the search for survivors continues. Yet, it is not the same; he must go and search himself as often as he can. Punching the pillow and stuffing it under his head, he turns his thoughts to Kilita as he drifts toward sleep, sending a quick prayer to the Lady that the green dragon will remain safe, and return successful.

~!~

Aura raises her head and eases to her feet. The day is dawning as the sun begins to break above the horizon. Aura gazes to the northwest. She can no longer see smoke from the fire, but they did not make it too far before darkness and mutual exhaustion caused her and the green to land for the night.

She shuffles to the stream, trying to move quietly so as not to awaken Kilita. Her neighbor is exhausted and weakened from her injuries.

She drinks until her thirst slackens and watches as the day begins.

" _How is thou this sunrise?"_

Aura turns to find Kilita awake. _"Free; the rest will mend."_

" _When did thou last feed?"_ Kilita stands and lifts her wings slowly, shakes the morning dew from them, stretches each to its fullest reach, and then allows them to fold once more on her sides.

" _It has been a while. But I can wait until we reach my son."_ Aura limps away from the stream to allow Kilita access. _"Unless, thou needs to feed?"_

" _No, I can wait another day. We should meet up with Rejack before midday, he should return with a Shaman before then."_ Kilita lowers her neck to drink from the stream, flinching as the scab over the wound at the base of her neck cracks open and resumes seeping blood. _"I would rather get started. We have not put enough distance between us and that dead Volastoque for my mind to feel at rest."_

Aura stretches her wings, peering at the patches of damage from Killer Frost. She uses her front teeth to scrape away a few dead scales, exposing skin still gray with damage. She twitches her wings and beads of morning dew cascade down their length. _"Let us start then, for our mates will worry."_

Kilita seems to deflate for a moment, her body sagging beside the stream. _"_ _Timac fell in the defense of Taloxville."_ Her Mindspeak is soft and laden with grief.

Aura freezes, her heart aching as she shares their mutual anguish. She moves close to the green, draping one wing across Kilita's back. _"I am so sorry."_

" _He died with honor, protecting the people of Taloxville."_ Kilita raises her head and gazes into Aura's eyes. _"We have lost many to these battles."_

" _Too many."_ Aura rubs her neck and face alongside the green's in comfort. A whiff, slight and almost unnoticeable, of pheromones, reaches her. _"Thou is gravid with his clutch?"_

Kilita's eyes widen in surprise. _"I did not think it was apparent yet."_

Aura hugs the younger dragon to her. _"Only when I am this close."_

" _I fear they come into a world where their future is doomed."_ Tears trace a jagged path down Kilita's face scales as she trembles in Aura's embrace.

" _We will do whatever it takes to not make it so."_ Aura gives her a final squeeze, then releases the green dragon. She steps back and glances at the sun, now clear of the horizon. _"Come, let us leave."_

Kilita nods, wiping a wing across her face to brush away her tears.

~!~

Elish hustles through the man-made corridors that attach the large natural cavern chambers. He soon reaches a corridor where the floor rises in a steady incline. The stark white of the glowing orbs in the corridor cause the walls to shimmer as he paces swiftly along. Once again, traffic is sparse and he passes only a few men entering the caverns. The air cools and takes on a crisper taste as he nears the main exit.

The double-doors are cool to his touch. He holds one open for a man entering with his arms loaded and then steps out into the brisk night air. Elish steps across the cobblestone courtyard to the edge of the flattened area. His hands clasp the banister and his eyes travel down the steep slope to the valley where a scattering of domes and cabins nestles. Both moons are full and the basin almost glows in their light.

The lowing of a cow and faint barking of a distant dog are the only sounds. He relaxes, lifting his gaze to the star-studded skies. Three dragons, on patrol, flit across the deep velvet of the night. He watches as one, a silver, arcs across the lower hills on the other side of the valley. Beautiful, the dragon is so graceful in flight.

Two dragons pop into existence directly in front of him. Heart pounding in his ears, the air leaves his lungs in a whoosh as he grasps the railing to stay upright. Harsh tones of a greeting bugle wash over Elish as the emerald dragon announces them to the sentry dragons. The Shaman dangling in the emerald's claws gestures to the platform behind Elish and the dragon lands, walking on her hind legs a short distance before placing the Shaman she carries in her front talons upon the ground. The mahogany hovers for a moment, then flies directly over Elish to land behind him.

Elish whirls around. The two dragons practically fill the large courtyard. Both show injuries, and blood wells from a wound on the emerald dragon. He watches as the two Shaman remove harnesses and detach themselves from the dragons' front legs.

The Shaman with the emerald dragon speaks, "Remain here a moment, I shall check to ensure a large enough area is clear." He disappears.

Elish takes several deep breaths and begins to calm. The spicy scent of dragon fills his senses; he is so close to the immense creatures.

The second Shaman pulls a leather cap from her head, her brown hair falling in a tumble around her shoulders as it is freed. She glances across the courtyard and nods a greeting. Elish's hand trembles as he reaches to tug on his forelock. He clears his throat and tries to speak past the dryness in his mouth. Before he can think of what to say, the other Shaman pops back onto the courtyard.

"The area in front of the feeding station is clear," the Shaman says, moving to stand beside the emerald dragon. He reaches up to place his hand upon her leg. "I will take Kilita first; give us a moment then follow with Aura." The dragon and the Shaman disappear.

" _Do we go where my mate and hatchling are?"_

Elish's eyes fly wide as the dragon's Mindspeak rings in his head.

The brown-headed Shaman nods. "Yes, the Healing cavern. The Healers there can attend to both your injuries as you are reunited with your family."

Elish can feel relief emanating from the mahogany. Her form slumps and he cannot help but notice how thin and battered she is. A sound like the rustling of dry leaves drifts across to him as she resettles her wings. The membranes between her wing phalanges are ragged, her scales peel from her body in places, and even from this distance he can see her ribs prominently exposed on her sides. His gaze is drawn to the patches on her folded wings, pale-pink against the darker mahogany of the wing, and he wonders what caused such damage.

The mahogany dragon's golden eyes turn to him and he holds his breath. The brown-headed Shaman lays her hand on the dragon's leg and they disappear. Elish releases the breath and sags against the banister. The courtyard seems immense without the two dragons. He turns to gaze, once more, down into the valley.

# Chapter 17

" _My mate."_ Maru ignores Geramn where the Healer stands beside the lake, gesturing for him to remain in the water. He hauls himself out and with great effort strides to where Aura materialized. His heart aches as her condition becomes evident the closer he draws.

" _Maru."_ Aura stumbles toward him, the Shaman who transported her scrambling to get out of her way.

They come together and their necks entwine as a deep ache lifts from his heart. Carefully, he enfolds his mate within his wings. She melts against him while soft sobs wrench from her throat. Pressing his cheek against the top of her head, he whispers, _"My love, it is wonderful to have thee back in my embrace."_

Aura lifts tear-filled eyes to meet his gaze and starts to speak when an ear-shattering screech fills the cavern. She jerks away, turning to face the charging form of Falcop. The green hatchling scrambles across the cavern, scattering people and leaving a shambles of carts and equipment in his wake.

Falcop reaches his dama and flings himself into her embrace. Aura rears on her hind legs, clutching the green hatchling to her with her forearms, and sobs shake both their frames.

Maru glances past his mate and sees Healer Geramn brushing tears from his eyes. He nods at the Healer, moved by this indication the man genuinely cares and rejoices with him at the return of his Aura.

Falcop's cries subside to soft crooning as his son nestles against Aura when she settles to the ground. Maru's heart melts inside his chest as he watches his mate stroke the green hatchling, her eyes shedding tears of joy.

Maru turns and walks over to Kilita; the emerald dragon has entered the healing waters and three Shaman are in trance beside her, Healing her injuries. _"Kilita..."_ He pauses, words failing him to express his thanks at her efforts to bring Aura back safely. _"Thank thee seems too small to express my gratitude."_

Kilita pulls her eyes from Aura and Falcop's reunion. _"The joy they find in being brought back together is thanks enough."_

Maru lowers his head, mindful not to disturb the Shaman; he presses his cheek against Kilita's face, gently rubbing against the scales. _"Know that I am forever in thy debt."_

" _I am forever thy friend, it is no more than thou does."_ Kilita pulls her head back slightly to peer into his eyes, the multi-hued gold in her eyes swirling in emotion. _"We must find a way to secure the hatchlings and younglings. Too many have already become sacrifice to this battle."_

Maru listens in shock as she tells him of the other nests found decimated. His nostrils begin to puff smoke as his rage ignites the battle fires within him.

~!~

" _Trella, may I speak with thee a moment?"_

Trella opens her eyes to see Estrola standing at the entrance to her chamber. Trella nods, stretching as she sits up in the nest. _"Lady Blessings, Estrola; enter and be welcome in my temporary lair."_

The midnight-blue dragon enters, her immense size making the chamber seem much smaller than it had moments before. _"Is thou comfortable here? The humans seemed to have made effort to suit our needs in these chambers."_ She glances at the nest and the stone trough along one side, filled with clean water.

" _Yes, there is nothing I require."_ Trella glances ruefully at her wing. _"The Healers say it will be a couple of moons before my wing can sustain flight. This chamber shall suffice until then."_

" _Belnarth is grateful for thy friendship to his youngling."_

" _Pearlitta is a special child."_

" _Yes, she is."_ Estrola settles on her haunches and her tail curls around her. _"Has thou had children of thine own?"_

Trella shakes her head. _"No, I reached the age to consider doing so as the battles began."_ She rises and moves from the nest toward the water, careful not to jar her wing. _"I chose not to mate until my mate and I could devote our time to raising our young."_ She reaches the trough and lowers her head to slurp up the cool water. Her stomach rumbles, reminding her she also needs to feed this sunrise. _"To what do I owe this visit, Estrola?"_ she asks, turning to face the larger female.

" _I came to ask thee to take on a special task for dragonkind."_

Trella politely moves away from the water, in case her guest would like to drink. _"I am told it will be as many as six moons before I am able to resume long flights, little alone engage in battle."_

" _Yes, well, thy flight ability will not affect this task."_

Trella gazes at the female, unsure what other skill she has that can help. _"I am afraid I do not understand?"_

" _It is a task of a delicate nature."_ Estrola shifts, glances at the entrance arch then at the stone floor of the chamber. _"The Mystics of our allies have revealed the Lady has sent them prophesies that show no future for dragonkind, except perhaps one. By working together with our allies, we hope to secure that future. Forgive my need to speak bluntly, but thy pheromones indicate thou enters the time when thou would be receptive to mating."_

Surprise makes her Mindspeak a bit sharp as she replies, _"I have yet to allow my mating cycles to interfere with my obligations."_

" _I knew thy sire and dama; I would never think that thou would."_ Estrola raises her eyes to meet Trella's gaze. Her dark-green eyes whirl slowly in the dim light of the chamber. _"Thy receptiveness to mating is the delicate nature of this task. Dragonkind needs females willing to bear eggs for our future."_

Trella feels a jolt of sheer shock at the female's words. _"My decision to not carry a clutch until the battles are over is my own to make."_

" _The situation is much more dire than is known by most."_ Estrola shakes her massive head, her expression bleak. _"I have been tasked with seeking females who would agree to selective mating. The eggs would ensure dragonkind's future. They are to be placed in stasis created by the Shaman as the key to our survival. Too many females fall in battle, and clutches are being lost by the score."_

" _Selective mating? Stasis?"_ She forces the words past a throat gone dry.

" _Males with proven prodigy, strong clutches that thrive, will be asked to participate. Thou is from outstanding stock and, with such a male, should produce a clutch with the best opportunity to flourish. The eggs will be held in a magical field until the time is safe to allow them to come to maturity and hatch."_

" _Thou asks me to bond with a male not of my choosing?"_

" _Bond, no. Only to carry his eggs until thy clutch arrives. Then those eggs will be added to others for the safeguarding of our future."_

Shock renders Trella speechless.

Estrola rises and stretches her long neck across to stroke her cheek against Trella's. _"It is a lot to comprehend. I know what I ask of thee will be hard. I only do so because it may be the only way to secure a future for dragons."_ She shifts toward the doorway. _"I will leave thee to consider this. I pray thou can understand and agree to accept this duty for dragonkind."_ The large dragon slips out the entrance.

Trella slumps to the cavern floor, her mind awhirl.

~!~

"My thanks." Jadrun runs his gnarled fingers through his fresh-shorn hair and offers a wan grin. "I was beginning to feel like a sheep the drama before shearing."

Sheina smiles, her emerald eyes full of compassion and sparkling in the sunshine. "It is a small enough effort for such a vast improvement." She gestures to Montello. "Come lad, we have time to get you shorn before midday meal."

Montello takes the stool his father vacates and Sheina's scissors soon flash as his blond hair tumbles to join the black strands scattered across the cobblestones from his sire. A sad smile forces past Jadrun's worry as his son's eyes close and Montello's face takes on an expression of stoic endurance. The lad always did hate getting his hair cut. Blanche usually resorted to dragging Jadrun's son before him to enforce that the lad sit and have his locks cut into a semblance of order.

Jadrun stole a few moments from his duties for the guilty pleasure of enjoying this simple activity with his son. They have had so little time together since the attack that killed Herlan and in which Blanche was lost. Montello has lost too much weight since Herlan's death. The dark smudges beneath his eyes are mute testimony to his son's depression since the attack. He looks more like a bewildered child than a young man of fifteen winters. Jadrun shakes his head; it is hard to believe that Montello has reached the age to make his own decisions about the direction of his life. Jadrun turns his gaze to the valley simmering in the sunshine. Not that many choices are open to his son. Since the incursions began, all choices are aimed at survival.

He watches the progress of a dome in the valley below. Made from mud bricks, the domes are unusual for a community of the Palmir People, but are becoming more frequent. The domes offer more protection against the Volastoque than do the more common wood-frame buildings. The one below will shelter those people and livestock caught out in the event of an attack before they are brought into the caverns for the night.

He tugs a silver chain from his tunic and studies his green crystal as it lies glistening in his palm. The Shaman Society test youths at Montello's age for aptitude to use the crystal's powers. His son should have already been tested.

He glances back where Sheina puts finishing touches on Montello's haircut.

There must be a way they can continue the testing. The need to train additional users of the crystals becomes more urgent daily. Although he understood the Society's mandate of concealment, the needs of the people outweigh the potential hazards. When the Society first made themselves known to the Palmir People, acceptance of the powers came easily enough, since the Society used their powers in the defense of the Palmir People. He will speak with Shaman Hern. The Council must move on setting up testing and training.

Messages continually arrive from around the continent of skirmishes with, and full-strength attacks by, the Volastoque, such as that which stole Harlan from them. He gazes up; the barrier that shrouds the valley can barely be seen, only as a slight shimmer. Even as a Shaman, he is in awe of such power. Using his transporting crystal has become second nature; he can do so with only a thought. But this cloak barrier amazes him. He cannot even begin to fathom how the spell works; he only knows that it involves use of the red crystals and requires occasional tending to maintain.

Sheina completes her efforts.

Montello vacates the stool to another lad and tugs at his forelock. "My thanks, Nora Sheina." Montello walks over to his sire, his hand ruffling the shortened hairs on his head. "There is something I wish to speak with you about."

Jadrun lays his hand on his son's shoulder. "Yes, I wanted to speak with you as well. Shall we head to the dining chamber and talk as we share midday meal? I have to meet Healer Geramn afterwards."

"I would like that, but I have duties to attend to first."

Jadrun stifles his disappointment; it has been too long since he and his son have had any time together. "Very well, what is it that you wished to discuss?"

Montello's brown eyes take on a slight gleam. "I care for the hatchling, Falcop. His sire asks that I am assigned to him. At first, it was to help him get over his fears and loneliness while his dama was missing." Montello leans on the railing and stares down into the valley as he speaks. "But, now she has returned. Aura will require time to heal, but then she and Maru will join the battles again. Since Falcop and I have established a bond of sorts, they ask that I continue to work with him and remain at his side when his parents are away."

"And you wish to do this?"

Montello turns his gaze to Jadrun. "Yes, I do. It is something that fulfills me. I do not know that I can explain it, but Falcop has become very important to me."

"What of your testing for Shaman?"

Montello's eyes shift away and he swallows twice before meeting Jadrun's gaze once more. "That has always been your dream, sire. I do not know that it has ever been mine."

"You and your brother—"

"Yes, Herlan and I planned to be Shaman together." Shadows of grief darken Montello's brown eyes. "But it was Herlan who wanted to be a Shaman, the part important to me was the together. That is no longer possible."

Jadrun lays a comforting hand on his son's shoulder. He, too, grieved the loss of Montello's twin. "Perhaps you need more time, we only recently lost your brother. And your dama is still missing. A decision like this... well, it is best you are past grieving when you make such a choice."

A single tear slips down Montello's cheek. "I shall grieve throughout my lifetime for Herlan." He swipes at the tear with his sleeve and straightens his shoulders. "I still hold hope Dama may yet be found. Yet, I am not allowed to join in the search as I have no skills to contribute past my willingness to look. They say it is too dangerous and that they have enough searchers out. However, I must find my way in the Palmir People." His lips twist in a sad smile. "This is a way... I can serve and perhaps even find some happiness."

Jadrun squeezes Montello's shoulder, then allows his hand to drop to his side. "That is all I can hope for you at this time. You have my blessing to pursue this bonding."

~!~

Kilita floats near the center of the Healing lake. Her neck wound is closed; four sunrises she has soaked in the amber waters. Healers concluded their work moments ago and her mending will complete through the power of the amber waters.

The battle covey she usually flew with, Rejack's, has returned to the lairs near the caverns beyond the Exeda Mountains. Once she heals, she will join them. Maru flew with the same covey as did several of the other injured dragons at Kitloch. They need to return as soon as possible to get Rejack's battle covey up to strength.

Now that Aura is returned to her mate, Kilita feels herself plummeting into the apathy of grief. She sinks lower in the waters, only her eyes and nostrils above the surface. By the Lady, she feels so alone. Timac. How can she continue without her loving mate?

Soft calls of Toh-ka, Toh-kay drift across the chamber and she rouses herself to watch as a blond lad brings Falcop his feeding. She glances to where Aura rests in the lake beside her mate. The mahogany female rests her head on the shore, her golden eyes pulsing with satisfaction as Aura watches the green hatchling wolf down huge quantities of slaughtered goat.

Kilita turns her gaze away, ashamed at the jealousy that clenches her heart.

# Chapter 18

Geramn rounds the corner in the main tunnel and crashes into a stout lad. He grasps the boy's shoulder and steadies him. "Excuse me, I am in a hurry and did not see you." The boy shoves his brown hair back and Geramn recognizes Elish. "Elish, did I hurt you?"

"No, Nor. I am fine." Elish's eyes dart around the tunnel, then meet Geramn's gaze. "Actually, I was looking for you. I hoped to speak with you?"

Geramn glances the way he was headed. "I really am in a hurry; can you walk with me as we talk?"

"Of course."

"Come then." He strides off, and then slows so the lad can keep up without running. "What can I do for you, Elish?"

"I wish to become a Healer."

Geramn looks at the boy in surprise. Elish walks with his eyes straight forward, his jaw thrust out and his hands clenched at his sides. "You are a bit young to make that decision."

"There is no one to make it for me. My family died at Preloch."

"Yes, I know." Geramn falters, knowing nothing he can say will ease the pain shown on the boy's face.

"My dama... she may have lived if a Healer was available." His green eyes shadow in grief as the boy continues. "I want to be a Healer. Never have I felt so helpless as when the attack rendered me unable to take care of my family." He lifts his face and turns it to peer up at Geramn. "I know it will be three winters yet before I can apprentice. But, perhaps there is something I can learn and do toward that goal?"

"Instruction cannot begin until you are tested, and that does not occur until your fifteenth winter."

"Why?"

Flustered, Geramn pauses. The flow of people passes around them like a stream parting around a boulder. "It has always been that way."

The need in Elish's eyes touches Geramn as the lad responds, his voice barely above a whisper. "Fifteen winters is when the Palmir People believe a man grown, past his childhood." The boy shoves his brown hair back and meets Geramn's eyes, unflinching. "My childhood ended when my dama died in my arms. I know what I want. I yearn to help others not lose their families. I want to relieve the pain of the dying if I cannot heal them so they may live."

"You are right; sometimes age does not denote maturity." Geramn gestures they should continue on their way. "I will speak to the Council of Healers on your behalf."

Elish's face takes on an aspect of hope. "My thanks, Healer Geramn."

Geramn nods, debates a moment with himself, then adds, "I go to the valley; a calf broke its leg and needs attention. Would you like to accompany me?"

A sparkle of interest lights Elish's eyes as he responds, "Yes, I would."

"Come then, Shaman Jadrun waits at the entrance courtyard to transport us to the field where the calf awaits."

~!~

Elish hurries along a half-stride behind Healer Geramn as is appropriate to show respect for the man. His heart feels lighter since the Healer agreed to speak with the Council on his behalf. They exit the cavern. Healer Geramn waves to a morose, black-headed Shaman who slumps beside the rail at the courtyard's edge where the mountain sheers down into the valley.

Shaman Jadrun is lean and tall; he reminds Elish of his Uncle Kahril, also lost in the attack at Preloch. The Healer and Shaman talk for a moment; Elish barely pays attention to their conversation as his mind swirls at the possibility of studying to become a Healer. He feels so adrift since his arrival at Kitloch, the prospect of having a focus to his life feels good.

"Come lad, stand beside me." Shaman Jadrun gestures Elish over.

Elish moves with alacrity to the Shaman's side. Jadrun smiles reassuringly as he places a hand on Elish's shoulder. "Have you transported before?"

"Only when we were brought here." Elish keeps his face calm.

"Ah, well it is the same experience no matter the distance." Shaman Jadrun places his other hand on the Healer's shoulder. "Let us go."

Elish staggers a bit as they appear in a rolling meadow. Jadrun tightens his grip on Elish's shoulder to steady him, then pats him on the back when he stabilizes.

"Alright there, lad?" The Shaman's voice is kind as he peers at Elish from beneath his shaggy brow.

"Yes, Nor." Elish turns his gaze to where Healer Geramn strides toward a herder and a large brown cow. He glances back at Jadrun. "My thanks, Shaman Jadrun." He tugs on his forelock and then hurries to join the Healer.

"I will send another before nightfall meal to retrieve you. I will be joining the search at the caverns at Burick Lake for the rest of this day," Shaman Jadrun calls out to Geramn.

"May the Lady aid you in your search." Healer Geramn waves a hand and disappears in the deep grass as he kneels beside the cow.

The herder, a brawny young man, holds the cow by a strap around her neck. He wears a worried expression as he watches Healer Geramn gently stroke the black calf lying in the grass beside them. Elish stands, watching the Healer, unsure what to do.

Geramn looks up. "Elish, come to the calf's head. See if you can keep him calm while I examine him." The Healer glances up at the Herder. "You sure you can restrain that cow by yourself?"

The young man nods. "Cloie is a placid beast, she shall not harm you." He broadens his stance and grasps the strap holding the dama with both hands; the muscles in his thighs and forearms bulge. "I can hold her, should her attitude change."

Elish kneels, gathering the young bullock's head into his lap. He gently strokes the soft facial hair, murmuring platitudes to calm the youngster.

Healer Geramn lowers a satchel from his shoulder and places one hand on the calf's shoulder and the other on the front leg that lies on the ground at an odd angle. "I will enter a Healing trance and relieve her pain first." He glances at Elish. "Relieving her suffering should make the rest of our task easier. But make sure you do not allow her to raise her head. She cannot rise without lifting her head. Once she is without pain, she may think to get up. I need you to restrain her until we have her leg in a splint."

Elish nods his understanding and takes a firm hold on the bulky head.

The Healer's hands take on a soft, amber glow as he chants prayers to the Lady for guidance in this Healing. Elish glances at the cow; she stands placidly, her deep brown eyes locked on the Healer. The sun beats down and warms his back as he once again gives the Healer his attention. Geramn's eyes have closed.

Elish closes his own eyes. He jolts as his perceptions broaden and he feels a tug. Concentrating on the slight pull, he perceives an immersion as the path the Healer takes to the calf's brain opens before him in his mind's eye. Small tendrils, much like roots in a plant, are swollen and tiny sparks leap across them. His mouth falls open in surprise as he watches Healer Geramn soothe the frantic pulsing of pain.

Beneath his hand, the calf sighs, relaxing her head deeper into Elish's lap.

Elish draws in a shuddering breath as Geramn draws him along when the Healer moves his attention to the foreleg. Elish has hunted and prepared the meat for his family for many years. The muscles, veins, arteries, and bones he sees, flush with a healthy blush, are not strange to him. What is different is this tissue pulses with life.

The large bone of the foreleg is surrounded by mahogany pools of blood. Healer Geramn plunges deeper into the leg and Elish can see the crushed bone. Bone splinters radiate out from the break, lodging in the surrounding tissue. Elish feels the Healer concentrating his attention on the area, and the tissues infuse with a pliable amber radiance. The flesh throbs and forces the splinters back toward the bone.

A deep amber pulse shoots to the surrounding tendons and ligaments. They tremble, then relax, loosening their grip on the shattered bone. Now the bone begins to vibrate as the bone shards realign and fuse, reforming into their column of bone. Deeper, Geramn plunges and the marrow comes into view.

Healer Geramn infuses the marrow with energy and the cells swell as they begin to multiply. Fibers of protein lace across the inner wall of the bone. Geramn fills them with energy and they form a knit across the bone surfaces. Withdrawing to the outer bone, Geramn locates similar protein fibers and encourages them to grow rapidly; soon the bone column is encased in a protein net across the once-shattered bone.

The calf jerks in his grasp and Elish's eyes snap open. He locks his arms around the calf's head and leans forward to immobilize the calf with his weight. With blurred vision he sees the Healer withdraw from his trance and reach for his satchel. Geramn pulls out a pouch and opens it to remove a damp, thick cloth. His light-blue eyes meet Elish's. "Can you spare one hand?"

Elish nods, leans his right side onto to the calf's head, and frees his left hand.

Healer Geramn hands him a sealing stone and takes the damp cloth, mounding it around the calf's upper leg. He presses the edge firmly against the layer beneath it. "Use the sealing stone to seal it."

Elish presses the stone against the edge of the fabric, moving it slowly along the length until the fabric is sealed.

Once more Healer Geramn's hands take on an amber glow as he compresses the cloth against the limb. The cloth takes on a light sheen, and then hardens.

Geramn eases away from the calf. "You can let her up now."

Elish scrabbles back from the calf; it lurches to its feet and toddles over to nurse its dam. Getting to his feet, he is a bit dizzy with excitement as he offers the stone to the Healer. "That was incredible."

The Healer accepts the stone, one eyebrow raised. He wears a contemplative expression as he says, "You were with me, you followed along."

"Yes, what you did was amazing; I cannot wait to be tested."

A wry chuckle escapes the Healer as he tucks the sealing stone back into his satchel. "Lad, I for one see no reason for another test."

Elish can feel his spirit plunge. "Nor?"

"You obviously have an affinity to the Healing magic." Geramn reaches and ruffles his hair. "One of the strongest I have seen with no training."

A goofy grin breaks out across his face and Elish tries to school his expression to one more suiting a potential Healer's apprentice. "Thank you, Healer Geramn."

Geramn shakes his head. "It is not my decision to make, but I shall do all that I can to get you established as an apprentice."

Elish watches the calf learning to move beside its dam with the braced leg and for once in a long time, hope permeates his soul.

~!~

"You simply cannot call off the search until all those missing are accounted for." Jadrun slams his fist on the massive table with such force the mugs upon it rattle.

The Headman for the caverns at Burick Lake shakes his head. "Shaman Jadrun, I am sorry. We simply can no longer dedicate the personnel to a pointless search."

"My mate and others are still not accounted for."

"It has been over two dramas, we must assume—"

"When it comes to my family's safety, I assume nothing."

"I understand. However, Shaman Jadrun, you must understand my position." The frazzled elder runs a gnarled hand through his thinning silver hair. "It has been many sunrises since a survivor or even a body has been found. There is no delicate way to put this. We have searched the area thoroughly. Any survivors should have been able to call out to a searcher, even if injured. The Volastoque have been known to carry off those they subject to their darts, and evidence shows they consume some of those attacked." Headman Kiltem's brown eyes well with compassion as he meets Jadrun's glare. "The handful of people not accounted for... We must assume they have fallen to one of those fates."

"I will not accept that."

"You may not, but I have to. The dragons need to return to their tasks in escort or attack coveys." Headman Kiltem's hand taps a pile of documents on the table in front of him. "I have many situations that require manpower. Manpower we have dedicated to this search; it is time to put the people back to the tasks that will ensure the survival of all those here at Burick Lake Caverns."

"Would you do so if it were your mate missing?" Jadrun flung the words at the man like knives.

"I could not put my own needs over the needs of so many. So, yes." Kiltem meets his eyes, unflinching. "Shaman Jadrun, I understand you lost a son in the attack as well. I realize this is difficult for you to accept, but it is time to mourn your mate as well. If there were anything I could do to change that, I would. However, your mate, and the other seven still missing, must be assumed dead or lost to those creatures. I am sorry." He holds out a parchment for Jadrun to take. "This is from the Shaman Council. You are ordered back to Kitloch, and to desist in your search."

Jadrun ignores the proffered document and jerks to his feet, his body rigid; he glares at the Headman for a moment, then wordlessly strides from the chamber. He forces himself to calm as he reaches the ledge outside the cavern. Focusing his power, he transports to the edge of the area he last searched. He will continue to look, despite his orders and with or without help.

# Chapter 19

Maru bugles to the sentries. He sweeps across Kitloch valley to land at one of the cavern's back entrances. He ignores the various aches of his body as he lowers the two deer to the stone ledge. Men rush to him and grab the deer, moving them to the processing area to the left.

Maru launches, clearing the ledge for the brown dragon he sees incoming, laden with another deer. Almost three dramas have past since he arrived at Kitloch, injured. His recovery is almost complete. Soon he will rejoin the battles.

He wings slowly to the west. For now, he combines his exercise to strengthen his healing body with hunting to feed the population of Kitloch. He glances at the position of the sun. He has time for one more hunting trip before he needs to report to the meadow.

Picking up speed, he heads to a valley some distance from the cavern. Dragons do not hunt the immediate area surrounding Kitloch; the human hunters prowl those hills. Still, he worries they will soon over hunt the area, with so many to provide for. He almost reaches his valley when he sees Aura winging toward him. Aura reaches him and the two dragons hover above the naked branches of the trees.

" _My love."_ Maru anxiously studies his mate. Aura has the beginning of a healthy shine to her scales, though she is still gaunt. _"Thou must take care that thou feeds well. I wish to see thee recover thy condition."_

" _I have fed daily. It is important that I help, just as thou does, until my body has completely recovered."_

Maru notes the new scales coming in where the Killer Frost damaged Aura. _"Soon, thou will be recovered. It makes my heart swell with happiness."_

Aura shifts her grip on one of the deer that dangles below her. _"I have decided to accompany thee when thou leaves to fight in our defense."_

" _Thy place is here, with our son."_

" _Falcop is well tended by his bonding mate, Montello."_

" _Bonding mate?"_

" _That is the term humans begin to use for those who tend the hatchlings."_

" _I see."_ Maru flips his head to rub his shoulder; hovering is still hard on his injury. _"Still, it would give my heart peace to know thou was here to protect him."_

Aura's golden eyes whirl, glittering as they reflect sunlight. _"There is no safer location; it is why the orphan hatchlings and younglings were brought here."_ Her face takes on a softer mien. _"Thou simply wishes to keep me out of danger."_

" _Is that so wrong?"_

Her gaze turns toward the cavern, then she raises her head high and meets his eyes. _"I am not a youngling, needing protection. I shall fight alongside thee to avenge our lost children and banish this threat from our people."_

" _However—"_

Aura breaks her hover. Winging toward the cavern, she calls over her shoulder, _"I shall leave soon, if thou prefers I not fight beside thee, then I shall fight alongside Kilita."_

Maru watches her, aggravation and pride warring in his heart. Angling his wings he spirals lower as he once again heads west. He hates to admit it, but his mate is right.

Over the last two dramas, lads and young women have been selected to bond with each hatchling or youngling at Kitloch. Many of the young dragons are the sole survivors of slaughters such as that Falcop survived. Most are orphans, their parents' lives lost in a futile defense against the Volastoque attacks on the lairs. Twenty-eight dragonets are ensconced in a portion of the cavern the humans have begun to call Dragonhome.

Neither of them needs fear their son will not thrive while they are away. Aura has a right, even an obligation, as a dragon sworn to aid the Palmir People, to participate in combat against the Volastoque.

He shakes his head. That does not make his heart any lighter at the thought of her joining in the battles.

~!~

Montello enters Dragonhome through a tunnel only large enough for the passage of humans. Despair fills his heart; he has just come from asking about the search at the caverns at Burick Lake. No more survivors have been found in the last two sunrises, and he suspects his dama is lost forever. He pauses where the tunnel spills out into the vast chamber and allows his gaze to run across the congregation of young dragons. In a rainbow of hues, they sprawl across the enclosure, each a vivid gem color. Despite their rather awkward stages of growth they are magnificent to behold.

His breath catches in his throat as he spies Falcop.

His hatchling curls in a nest on the west side of the chamber. The vibrant green of Falcop's scales shines in mute testimony to his returning health. Montello can see the hatchling sleeps soundly, so he turns his strides toward the tunnel where food for the baby dragons is dispersed.

The sharp copper scent of blood rolls across the slaughter chamber. Eight men toil butchering carcasses of deer, goat, mountain goat, and wild hogs. In the far corner the tame meat goats huddle in a forlorn knot, their frightened bleats a constant background accompaniment to the chopping and sawing of the butchers.

To the right, the chamber opens to a wide landing ledge. Several youths lean against the side of the mountain, waiting. Montello moves to the cluster of barrows to claim one as a dragon swoops in to hover above the ledge. The yellow male deposits two fresh-slain mountain goats; they have not hit the stone of the ledge before he breaks his hover and with powerful wing-thrusts rises back to the sky. Two youths scramble across the stone, one shoving along a barrow. They snatch the carcasses and fling them into their barrow and hasten to clear the ledge for two other dragons that are incoming with fresh kills.

Montello waves them over and takes the smaller of the two mountain goats into his own barrow. Falcop consumes a whole goat at each feeding; he will love a still-warm meal. He nods his thanks, then watches as the youths return to the ledge to join the others picking up newly deposited kills. It is early in the day yet, and he knows it is prime hunting time for the dragons, yet still it surprises him the quantity of kills provided each day to feed the young dragons. And he knows the ledge below and to the other side of the mountain face is accepting incoming kills to feed the human populace and injured dragons. He shakes his head. How long can the surrounding area sustain this type of harvest?

He leaves the bright sunlight of the ledge and trundles the barrow through the warm passage to the main chamber. He is glad for his light tunic and trousers, for Dragonhome is substantially warmer than the rest of the caverns. One of the Healers told him that the young dragons require the warmth to thrive.

He wheels the barrow down the incline, his body stiffens, and Montello holds himself upright as possible when he passes the first dragonet who stares at him balefully, a low growl resonating from the red's deep chest as he sniffs loudly. Montello does his best to ignore the hatchling and moves swiftly toward Falcop. Adrenalin courses through his veins, making his heart beat a rapid rhythm, and his body is covered in a cold sweat when he reaches his charge. He hates traversing past the other young dragons; he is never sure if they will allow him to pass, or pounce on his cargo of meat, or even him.

Falcop rises to his thorax as Montello arrives. His nostrils flair and he lurches to his feet, his sharp talons scattering the nest. Montello rushes to yank the young goat from the cart and lays it before the hatchling. A sweet crooning comes from the green hatchling as he crunches into the goat with delight. His golden eyes whirl and he vibrates with pleasure as he consumes the goat.

Montello stands with a foolish grin plastered on his face as he watches the way the hatchling relishes the fresh kill. One hand idly scratches the back of his head as the tingle of Falcop's attempt at Mindspeak reaches him. "You like it still warm."

No words can be made out, but the pleasure his young charge takes in his meal is conveyed.

"It will not be long until you are using Mindspeak." Montello's heart swells in pride as he watches his dragon baby. Falcop's hips and back have filled in, his form smooth with well-rounded flesh. He frowns when he notices some dried flakes of blood jammed along the edges of Falcop's scales. That will not do at all. His dama would be ashamed of him for taking such poor care of his charge.

Montello reaches to scratch the hatchling along his brow ridges when he has finished his meal. "Come along, Falcop, let us take you and get you bathed."

A deep rumble of satisfaction comes from the hatchling, but he turns and starts toward his nest.

"Falcop, follow me, I will get you cleaned up and oil these dry scales of yours."

Falcop pauses, his head cocked to the right as he contemplates Montello.

Montello clasps his neck and tugs. "Come along."

The green hatchling bobs his head.

Montello turns and takes a couple of steps. Yes. Falcop follows along! He grins. "You will feel much better once we have cleaned you up." Moving steadily, he heads to the pool in an adjacent chamber, Falcop clattering along behind.

~!~

Jadrun's eyebrows rise in surprise when Healer Geramn enters the assembly room. Geramn's light-blue eyes sweep the chamber and settle on Jadrun. He nods and, with a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, makes his way to a seat beside Jadrun at the table.

"It is good to see a familiar face." Geramn speaks in a quiet voice as he pulls off his cloak and settles in the seat. "I have not attended a Council meeting before."

"I have sat through far too many." Jadrun yawns and nods at the Healer. "You will find most are lengthy and often settle very little. How are our charges doing?"

"Maru and the hatchling thrive, as does his mate, Aura." Geramn grins. "Your son is becoming quite a hand with the care of Falcop."

Jadrun cannot help the swelling of pride he feels as he responds. "Montello says he is called to the work. I am pleased he does well."

"How goes the search for Blanche?"

Jadrun stares blankly at the tabletop for a moment. "They have called off the search."

"Oh, Jadrun. I am so sorry."

"They have, I have not. I will continue to seek her, or her body. I cannot leave it like this."

Geramn nods, his eyes shadowed with compassion.

Shaman Hern calls the meeting to order and both men turn their attention to the Head Shaman.

"The reports speak of steady incursions by the Volastoque; once again with heavy losses the Shaman and dragons drive them back at each encounter." Hern shrugs. "Any who wish to read these in depth are welcome to do so, however the situation is declining."

"Our efforts to remove people, and young dragons, to the caverns progresses well." The Shaman who speaks is not much older then Jadrun and his brown eyes and face show fatigue. "The dragons now fly escort and we have far fewer losses in route."

Hern nods. "It is good progress; perhaps when we have solidified our people in the three caverns, we can better defend them."

A buxom, elderly woman rises. "I need help with the rodents. Our grain supplies are beset with rats and mice. They damage, or consume, vast quantities daily."

A Shaman wearing a red crystal clears his throat, then speaks. "Perhaps we can devise a repulsive shield against vermin; I think we can alter the spells used with the camouflage barrier where the property of the shield repulses them, yet will not affect humans."

"Soon," the woman replies, settling back in her seat. "Before they have eaten us out of a season's grain."

Geramn speaks; he talks of the need to train additional Healers and makes a suggestion that they take on apprentices. Jadrun half-listens, fighting against nodding off, as the Healer continues to speak about a young lad that he found to have potential.

He, himself, has come to make a similar suggestion on training additional Shaman, but he cannot seem to focus on the discussion. His tired mind keeps drifting to his son as he last saw him. Montello entered their apartment as Jadrun was leaving for this meeting. His son, returning from working with Falcop, wore a grin that split his face from ear to ear.

Jadrun finds a small glow of peace in his soul that his son has found some happiness in this turmoil.

# Chapter 20

Montello places his hand on the trembling shoulder of the green hatchling to soothe him. They stand on a jagged outcrop at the back of the mountain overlooking a green expanse cupped between the near-vertical sides of the surrounding crags of the Kitloka Mountains. The grass in the natural amphitheater is brown with the onset of autumn. Goats confined by the steep sides are not left there more than a day or so, since the chill has stopped the growth of the grass.

The hatchling beneath his hand vibrates with excitement as a blue flash above them heralds the reason for the goats being there. A silver-blue youngling dragon spirals past them in a slow circle; coasting past the waterfall on the far side he appears almost the same color as the cascading water.

The youngling's wing strokes are a mere whisper on the wind as he chooses his target amongst the goats below. A brief tensing of his silver-blue body, then he folds his wings to plummet groundward. The goats shriek, scrambling over each other as they attempt to flee.

Montello's eyes never leave the youngling as his claws sink into a brown and white goat and he reaches down to tear out its throat with a snap of his powerful jaws. Montello also trembles, in awe of the savage beauty tempered by such intelligence and elegance.

The surviving goats flee to the far side of the area as the youngling settles down to feed. A tall, brown-haired youth strides out beside the adolescent dragon and his words of praise drift up to them on the wind.

The agitated scuffling of Falcop's claws upon the rough stone where they stand draws his attention back to his charge.

The green hatchling's body is as tight as a strung bow as he leans over the drop-off at their feet, his attention riveted to the kill below.

"Easy, Falcop, lest you fall." He tugs on the hatchling's neck. "You must fly before you can begin to hunt on your own. Your sire and dam wish that you watch, so as to learn, but you are not ready yet. Please move back a bit."

Falcop swings his serpentine neck back to look at Montello. His golden eyes swirl with flecks of amber and brown from his exhilaration. He grudgingly steps back and then returns his gaze to the feasting youngling. His head still hangs off the precipice, his neck straight as an arrow as he becomes still as a statue while he stares.

As Montello watches Falcop his eyes feast on the almost mint-green shimmer of his scales. The hatchling grows at a tremendous rate. Already his back is above Montello's head in height. Montello strokes his hand along Falcop's side, luxuriating in the sleek feel of the scales as they depress slightly into the light padding of fat beneath the skin.

They have fallen into a daily routine where Falcop is bathed and oiled after the nightfall feeding. His scales are vibrant with his good health as they glisten in the bright sunlight. A soft thrum starts in the hatchling's throat and Montello gives him a good-natured slap on the shoulder.

"Come along, obviously this has stirred your appetite, we can get your nightfall meal early."

A tingle of anticipation begins at the back of Montello's scalp and he takes that as agreement as Falcop swings around to scramble up the rocky slope to the back entrance to the cavern. They pass another bonded pair as they reach the entrance. Montello feels a surge of pride when he notes that his Falcop out-gleams the red hatchling. He nods a greeting to the lad and hurries Falcop past the other hatching lest they pause to posture.

He grins as Falcop almost lopes ahead of him down the tunnel. The first time Falcop and another hatchling engaged in the posturing scared him to death. Only Maru explaining to him that it was normal in the young, growing dragons, and never led to serious assaults had calmed him after the brief encounter.

Reflecting back on the incident, as he hurries along behind Falcop, he feels a moment of pride. A black, much larger than Falcop, had issued the challenge. Falcop took one glance at the male and then rose on his hind legs, wings extended to shriek at the other hatchling. His neck swinging like a pendulum before him, he advanced on his hind legs to tower over the other male, glaring furiously with his mouth wide, exposing every gleaming, white tooth. The black hatchling had backed down quickly enough.

"Falcop, go to your nest," Montello calls as, ahead of him, Falcop reaches the branch in the tunnel. "I shall be but a moment."

Falcop's golden eyes seem to glow in the dim light of the tunnel as he pauses and looks back. Then with a slight nod of his head, he shuffles down the right tunnel.

Montello hurries down the left tunnel. Falcop will sleep after his meal, which should give him time to start reading the texts on dragons he gathered the day before from the library.

Once again a grin splits his face. His sire will shake his head in wonder. Never before has Montello sought study time. Herlan was the bookworm. His grin fades to a soft smile, but for the first time the memory of his lost twin does not curl his insides with grief. He has no trouble imagining the awe and wonder Herlan would find in the developing relationship with Falcop.

"I shall make you proud, my brother." Montello speaks the words softly. More at peace than he has been since the attack, he enters the slaughter chamber. Hurrying to the ledge, he grabs a barrow, then moves onto the ledge and glances at the sky. Yes, there is an incoming dragon laden with mountain goats. Falcop will have a fresh kill for his nightfall meal.

~!~

Kilita fastidiously cleans between her front claws. She uses her teeth to work a bit of hide from the sheath of her retractable claw on her right talon. She twists her neck and peers at the wound. Her neck wound is all but healed. It gives her no further discomfort. It will scar, the skin healed with a bit of a pucker and the edges form a crescent shaped weal across the base of her neck. Already the newly-formed scales are a bit malformed where they grow in to cover the new skin.

She brings her attention back on task. She has no mate that she needs worry about her appearance. And Timac, were he still here, would view her scars as badges of honor. They fought side-by-side in Rejack's battle covey for many seasons in the defense of the Palmir People.

Perhaps three or four more dramas she may yet participate in the battles.

She raises on her hind legs and her left fore claw drops to caress her still-flat abdomen. She can feel the life quickening inside her. Soon, she will be too gravid with their clutch to risk her unborn in the battles.

Her heart fills with love for her and Timac's offspring.

In a way, knowing her beloved mate will continue through these eggs she carries makes it easier. She reflects on the announcement made earlier in the day. The Shaman Council made known arrangements in progress for clutches. The dragon elders have decided to work with Shaman to place clutches of eggs in stasis. Since so many devastated lairs with dead or orphaned hatchlings were found, they feel the eggs should be delayed in hatching until it is safe for the young.

Kilita agrees, although she mourns the lost ability to sit her nest, she can see the wisdom of delaying the young's entry into the world until these Volastoque are banished.

Her eyes grow a bit misty as she envisions the expression Timac would have worn as he watched their hatchlings tumbling in their lair at play.

She lowers her forequarters to stand on all four legs. Shaking her head, she thrusts aside her daydreams and brings her mind to bear on her departure nextday. She and Aura have been placed with the covey of dragons flying escort to villagers fleeing to sanctuary. The frail and young humans will be transported. But those with the capabilities to travel will form a convoy transporting foodstuffs and some personal belongings from each village or town. Already two such convoys were annihilated by attacks reroute, thus the need for dragon escort.

She unfurls her wings and with a last lingering glance at the small lake where she had bathed, launches skyward. Water sheets from her body and sings as she quickly gains altitude. She turns toward Kitloch. The crags of the Kitloka Mountains extend as far as the eye can see below her. The lovely little lake soon disappears in their depths as she flies east.

A sentry's bugle rips the quiet and a yellow female appears in broad slices as the dragon penetrates the camouflage. First her head and neck appears, followed in rapid succession by her shoulders, wings, back and finally her tail as she exits the cloak barrier hiding the valley. Kilita responds with a greeting and slows her advance to allow time for the yellow to recognize her. With the Volastoque's ability to subservient their victims as their minions, only dragons who are known to be unburdened with the creature's control are allowed entry into the valley.

The young yellow female hovers for a moment, studying her. She says, _"Enter Kilita, I hope your hunting went well."_

" _Yes, it did. Thank you."_ Kilita nods and enters the barrier, a tingle presses along her body as she moves through the invisible bubble and now different scenery sprawls out below her. The valley teams with people and herd animals as a multitude of refugees with wagons and carts make their way up the steep road to the cavern entrance.

She tilts her wings and spirals down to a pasture where dragons sprawl, sunbathing in the warm midday sun. She counts eighty two as she sweeps over the field. Aura is curled near the edge of the field and she lands beside her.

" _Lady's blessings, Kilita."_ Aura extends her neck in a languid stretch as she opens her golden eyes.

" _And to thee."_ She settles to lie on the ground with her tail curled around her body. She studies the mahogany dragon. The multiple locations where the Killer Frost damaged Aura have gained color; they are a light red against her deeper mahogany scales. _"How are thee? Thou look much better."_

"I am well enough." Aura spreads her wings and inspects the light-colored patches. "They look worse then they are. The membranes in my wings are healed, as are the patches where the Killer Frost hit my scales." She turns her gaze to Kilita. "I doubt they will ever regain their true color. But that matters little to me. And thee? Thy wounds have healed?"

She raises her neck to display the wound where her neck meets her chest. _"As thou say, healed if not attractive."_

Aura folds her wings and her gaze runs across the other dragons sunning in the field. _"There are few who do not bear such scars."_ Her eyes turn back to Kilita and a slow rotation begins in their depths. _"Words cannot express the gratitude and debt I have to thee Kilita. Should thee ever need or desire something of me—"_

" _As I said before, seeing you returned to thy mate and hatchling are all the recompense I need, or wish for."_ A bit embarrassed that Aura feels the need to thank her so often, she snugs her nose beneath her tail and closes her eyes, hoping to forestall further discussion.

"We are placed with Phocaea's escort covey. I was told we leave before nightfall, Maru leaves nextday with Rejack's battle covey."

She opens one eye. "Phocaea? I thought she flew with Estrola's battle covey?"

"She did. We lost Faille when the last escort the covey flew took a large number of fatalities and injuries. Phocaea was brought in to lead as she has a plenitude of battle experience to guide us." She pauses, then her Mindspeak takes on a softer tone. "I thought you would return to Rejack's battle covey with Maru?"

Kilita raises her head; she can see her rouse of attempting sleep is pointless. _"I requested to fly convoy."_ She shakes her head. _"I wish to continue to aid in our efforts against the Volastoque. However,"_ she pauses, her gaze dropping to contemplate the brown grass of the field _. "Battle coveys engage with each mission. Due to my condition, I thought to help while reducing my exposure to combat, as an escort covey often does not face combat with each flight."_

"A sensible choice." Aura's eyes whirl with worry as she continues. "Yet, it seems the escort coveys fall under attack almost as often as the battle coveys. Perhaps thee should remain at Kitloch as sentry or hunter. Thee risk much, laden with thy clutch."

A soft hiss of exasperation escapes her lips as she jerks her gaze back to that of the mahogany's. "I risk more by not aiding the efforts. My clutch will not survive if these beasts prevail. I shall continue to fight until my pheromones announce my condition to others. Then, it would not be right to continue, as the dragons around me would attempt to protect me, as their instincts dictate, thus endangering themselves needlessly." Her gaze pins the mahogany female. "Thou, shall not speak of this to anyone. Nor shall thee put thyself at risk by attempting to shield me if we engage in battle."

"I shall tell no one thou are gravid. Yet, I will do what I can to see thee come to no harm. I would do so whether thee were gravid or not, it is the least I can do to repay thee for when thou came to our aid at our lair and my recovery from the Volastoque."

"I would do the same for any dragon so attacked or captured. That does not mean thee should risk thyself unduly on my behalf."

Aura's eyes take on a softer cast. "Thee would guard a gravid female as well, as shall I. Do not presume to ask me to avoid what thee thyself would do."

" _Thee are far too nimble with thy tongue to negate my wishes so,"_ She grumbles as she once more tucks her nose beneath her tail and closes her eyes. She can hear Aura's soft chuckle, but refrains from further discussion. It is obvious it will get her no where.

"Kilita, thou need to consider." Aura pauses and she can hear her settling as her tail rasps across the grass. "Perhaps to protect thy gravid state may be more important then thy participation in the battles. To win, we must survive. Thy, and others like thee's offspring are the future of our species."

Kilita keeps her firmly eyes closed. Yet, sleep will not come, in spite of her full stomach. Her mind swirls with Aura's words and a deep worry permeates her soul.

~!~

So many. Geramn scratches the back of his head as he studies the group of youths gathering to apply for apprentice Healer positions. With only a dozen Healers available to take on apprentices, he could easily assign them each ten and still have applicants left over.

He glances at Healer Frandem and Healer Derness where they stand beside him. "Any ideas?"

Derness shakes her head, her brown eyes wide; it is obvious she is astounded at the turn out. One announcement was made at sunrise meal that the Healers would accept applications for apprentices after the meal; by the time they ate and arrived at this field over one hundred had assembled. She gestures at the additional youths making their way across the sun-drenched pasture. "They yet come; we will end up with close to three hundred at this rate."

Healer Frandem scratches the stubble on his chin, his bushy eyebrows furrowed. "We cannot possibly take them all on here. Perhaps our best course is to sort them into groups. Some will be without family here at Kitloch and can be taken to the caverns at Burick Lake or Genilox. Perhaps some will even have extended family at those locations. Either way, the Healers there can take on some of these."

"Excellent suggestion, though we need to coordinate with Shaman for transport." He glances at Elish. "See if you can find Shaman Jadrun or Shaman Hern and bid they join us here." The boy nods and tugs on his forelock, then runs off toward the road to the cavern.

"I will start sorting them out." Derness gathers the fabric of her simple gown into one hand and strolling a distance away, climbs upon a large rock at the edge of the field. Geramn turns to the group of Healers as Derness' voice lifts and she explains the groupings they wish the applicants to form.

He motions the other Healers closer. They are all experienced Healers, men and women who have practiced their craft for many winters.

"Once we see how many will remain here at Kitloch, perhaps we should break them into groups to instruct basic skills. We can teach wound cleaning, stitching and herbal remedies for poultices and teas while we assess who amongst them are suitable for the advanced Healer training. Many will not be able to use the amber crystals, yet teaching them basics can only be an advantage when we have an influx of injured."

"It gives us the opportunity to test a few at a time for indication they will be able to use the crystals." Healer Frandem nods in agreement. "It is a good plan."

At the nods and words of assent from the other Healers, Geramn grins. "Fine, shall we say two instructor Healers in each group and six groups? One can teach the wound work and the other herbal craft in each group. Choose a partner with whom you can work well and spread out across this field. I shall remain here, Healer Derness and I will work with one group and we will send the applicants to you that you will work with."

The Healers begin to disperse in groups of twos. A series of shadows fall across Geramn and he looks up to see a covey of Dragons winging across the valley. He spies the green and mahogany forms of Kilita and Aura in the front of the cluster. They head west.

His eyes drop back to the field as Shaman Jadrun, Shaman Hern and Elish pop into existence a short distance from were he stands. The boy, his face flushed and his green eyes sparkling with excitement rushes over to join him.

"Healer Geramn, I found Shaman Jadrun on the road to the cavern, he transported us to get Shaman Hern." Elish gestures behind him at the two men. "Then we came here, two transports, one right behind one another, it was amazing!"

Geramn ruffles the boy's brown locks affectionately. "You did well, Elish. Please go assist Healer Derness while I speak to the Shaman."

The boy runs off and he strides to the Shaman. Tugging on his forelock in greeting he gestures to the crowd of youths. "We had a much larger turnout than expected."

"So I see." Shaman Hern scrubs one hand over the gnarled knuckles of the other as he peruses the crowd. "There has to be close to three hundred."

"We hope to send a portion of these to the other caverns, to spread the work of teaching as well as to have them aide those locations once they have some skills."

Shaman Jadrun says, "A reasonable solution. It will take more than one transport, but with a bit of effort we can make the arrangements. I can take some to Burick Lake Cavern later today and search for Blanche while I am there."

Geramn nods to Jadrun, his heart going out to the Shaman who continues what has evidently become a pointless search for his mate.

Hern scowls. "Jadrun, the search has been called off. Yours as well, it must cease, you spread yourself too thin with the need for transport Shaman."

"I see no reason not to look, since I will be there anyway."

Geramn glances at the Head Shaman, and interjects quickly. "I thought perhaps you may want to test some of these volunteers for Shaman first. They came at the announcement for Healer apprentices, but unless they feel a true calling to that occupation, some may be more fitting for the Shaman apprentices needed."

"Absolutely, I see no reason we cannot work in concert to place them where they are most suited." Shaman Hern lifts his gaze to the sun; it is two fingers from its zenith. "I shall return after midday meal with the Shamans to transport the groups to the other caverns. Have those making the trip gather in their respective groups at the far end of this field with their belongings." He lifts one hand to pat Jadrun on the shoulder. "You can coordinate with Healer Geramn to work out the details to begin testing those who shall remain here."

"Of course, Shaman Hern." Jadrun nods in agreement.

Three large groupings of the youth are separating as Healer Derness and Elish make there way to where the men stand.

"I will leave you to it then, and see you after midday meal." Hern nods and transports.

Jadrun gives Geramn a wry grin. "See what happens when you make a suggestion the Council approves? " He gives him a playful slap on the back. "You end up with all the work to implement the idea. Let us get started, shall we?"

# Chapter 21

Maru settles in the lake and stretches his wings to their fullest extent. He aches all over. Their over-night flight and continued journey until the break for midday meal has shown him some recovery still lies ahead of him. Muscles, out of condition from his long convalescence, settle to a dull throb as he sinks in the water until only his nostrils and eyes are above the surface.

The sixty-some dragons of Rejack's battle covey have dispersed to hunt or relax while the few Shamans with them are having midday meal. A yellow dragon plunges into the lake not far from him and Maru grunts as the waves cause his wings to flex. Too bad these waters are not warm, like those in the healing cavern. The lake, nestled in the outer ranges of the Exeda Mountains, is frigid, even though the first snowfall has yet to arrive.

They should reach their destination before nightfall. The battle covey goes to a location where the Shaman have a cavern. They shall remain there awaiting word on any attacks. He casts his gaze upon the two female Royals who accompany them. Their skulls, as well as having the usual frontal plate and ridges, have an additional cranial bone that extends across the top of each of their heads, like a crown, and each has a frill that she can open wide at the point where her neck meets her throat. This allows them to communicate at vast distances by Mindspeak and the frill allows increased reception. Although they cannot hear from as far as they can send thoughts, it receives from farther than the sender would usually be capable of reaching.

The battle covey can remain at a location central to several of the human cities; the Shaman can transport them in for defense where they are needed. Maru swims shoreward; the cool waters no longer soothe his aches, rather it seems he stiffens as he soaks.

He stalks onto the beach, wondering if his bad humor is more due to the aches, or to Aura's refusal to stay at Kitloch. At least she flew with Kilita; that female already has plenty of experience in battle and would do well as his mate's partner. Although, he reflects, it is a bit odd that Kilita requested a transfer to the escort covey. Usually that was reserved to the inexperienced, like Aura, the youngsters in first coveys, and gravid females soon to withdraw from battle. He finds a warm rock ledge extending out over the water and settles on the warm surface. Kilita must have chosen the transfer to accompany Aura in her first escorts.

A warm flush of gratitude fills him and his mood lightens. Yes, that must be it. Kilita is a fine friend to so take his mate's needs in account. He lifts his head and allows his gaze to roll across the mountains. The bare limbs of the trees sketch patterns on the mountainside. From where he lies, he can see several small clearings breaking up the tree-line. It really is a lovely location. He settles his nose on his forearms and slips into a light doze.

~!~

Trella listens with half her attention as Pearlitta babbles on. She relates incidents of her new home life. The child thrives in the domicile of that Healer Geramn, his mate dotes on her, and Pearlitta adores their infant.

"That would be alright with you?"

" _I am sorry, Pearlitta, my mind is on other things. What would be alright with me?"_

"Jiles and Bren. I told them I would bring them to meet you nextday."

" _Oh, nextday I will be busy, perhaps thou and the Healer's sons can come a few sunrises from now."_

Pearlitta throws her brown hair back and peers up at her from where she reclines against Trella's leg. "What could you possibly be doing? You are not ready to fly yet."

A bit flustered, Trella glances away from the earnest blue eyes of her little friend. _"A boring meeting. I am to go soon after midday meal today and I suspect it will take all nextday and perhaps the next."_

"Yeah, my sire ends up being in those a lot." Pearlitta pats the scales beside her. "That is how come I can visit you so often. Even when he is in Kitloch, he is usually busy."

" _I am sure he wishes to spend more time with thee."_

"I suppose." Pearlitta takes a long strand of her hair and twirls it between two fingers. "That is the thing about this whole mess. The adults are too busy surviving to find time for anything else."

Trella's head jerks back and she chuckles. _"There is much wisdom in what thou says, little one."_

"It is not hard to see." Pearlitta's gaze turns to the arch leading out of Trella's chamber. She watches the steady flow of people passing in the corridor outside for a moment then adds, "When was the last time you saw an adult human, or dragon, having fun?"

" _True."_

"I cannot remember the last time my sire took time to play with me." Pearlitta's expression grows wistful. "He used to make me the best kites. We flew them for hours in the meadow behind our cabin. He even could make ones shaped like a dragon."

" _That had to be a sight to behold."_

Pearlitta smiles. "It was, but of course none of them were as pretty as you."

Trella nudges the child gently with her nose. _"Thou has developed into quite a flatterer, these are not thine usual acerbic remarks."_

"The teacher at the Scholla says it is unkind to speak as bluntly as I do." She gives a crooked grin. "I am working on it."

" _Perhaps thou could temper it some, but I have found it to be an endearing quality of thine, so do not lose it completely."_ Trella tilts her head as chimes ring out across the caverns. _"It is time for midday meal, thou better go, if thou wants to get in on the best desserts."_

"You have that meeting after, so I will not see you for several days." Pearlitta rises and stands stroking Trella's foreleg. "I will see if I can figure out a way for us to have some fun when you are done."

" _I will send word to thee when things have slowed down."_

Pearlitta turns to exit the chamber, pausing to blow her a kiss as she reaches the arch.

Trella stares after her, watching as the traffic in the outside corridor increases in the direction of the dining chambers, and after a time, finally slows. Her entire body feels leaden, weighed down with dread.

There is no meeting.

She leaves momentarily to go to the cavern where Estrola has arranged for her to meet the male who will sire a clutch upon her. She shudders. No matter how many times she tells herself this is something she must do to ensure the survival of her species... It just does not feel right. It feels unnatural, sullied.

She heaves her bulk up from the stone floor and exits her chamber into the trickle of traffic in the wide corridor. She moves stiffly, keeping her injured wing tight to her side. Trella's mind whirls as she moves with trepidation into the chamber Estrola gave her directions to. The chamber is dimly lit by oval orbs mounted on the walls. The musical splash of water comes from small falls on the far side of the chamber. Steam rises from the pool beneath the falls.

No one is here.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she moves into the chamber to stand beside the water. It is almost balmy here as the water warms this portion of the chamber. Small rivulets begin to cascade down her scales as she waits impatiently.

She has agreed to this and would just as soon get the actual deed behind her.

The sound of a claw on stone causes her to stiffen and jerk around to face the entrance.

" _Lady Blessings, Trella."_ Estrola steps into the cavern and moves gracefully to stand near Trella.

" _I thought... Thou is not who I expected."_

" _No, he will be here momentarily."_ Estrola's emerald green eyes pulse in concern as she studies Trella. _"I came to offer my presence, if it will make things any easier for thee."_

" _Thy presence—is there some reason I need be concerned about this male?"_

" _Absolutely not, Prava is a dragon of worth."_

" _Prava?"_

" _He is sire to many fine clutches. His mate, Odistat, fell in the early days of the Volastoque attacks."_

" _I fail to see what need there is for thee to remain."_

Estrola moves closer and brushes her face against Trella's cheek. _"Whatever will make things easier for thee. I thought to give thee my support."_

" _No."_ Trella jerks away and takes several agitated strides along the shore. _"I do not think an audience will make this any easier."_

Estrola lowers her gaze to the water, her Mindspeak not more than a whisper. _"Know that we only ask this of thee out of necessity. Thy willingness to ensure the future of dragonkind is praiseworthy."_

Her heartbeat clamors in her ears and Trella ignores the blue dragon's words. _"I shall get through this, but thou needs to leave."_

Estrola nods. _"I shall ask Prava to wait, to give thee time to bathe."_

" _Bathe?"_

" _Prava comes from cleansing himself, to ensure there is naught to reduce the chance of the mating taking."_

" _Oh."_

" _Take thy time, let the water's heat relax thee."_ Estrola turns toward the door. _"I shall remain a short distance away in the corridor, to ensure thy privacy."_

Trella watches the blue dragon depart, then slips into the warm water.

~!~

"Shut that damn dog up!" Geramn growls as he burrows deeper into the bed clothes in an attempt to stifle the noise.

Sheina slips from beneath the covers and pulls on a robe. "He needs to be taken out."

He reaches and grasps her wrist. "We have two sons old enough to see to the needs of the dog."

She gently disengages and rises from their bed platform. "Yes, and they are already at the Scholla, they were running behind this sunrise and did not have time to walk Ozo."

Geramn sits up when Rekia adds her wail to the dog's barking. "Tend the babe, I shall see to Ozo," he grumbles.

Her emerald eyes sparkle as she laughs. "Having a hard time adjusting to life back at home?"

"No. Never. I would suffer a thousand barking dogs to wake up in your arms each sunrise."

She flips her black hair over her shoulder and gives him a saucy wink. "Once the babe and dog's needs are attended, I am free all morning."

Geramn jerks his trousers on beneath his nightshirt. He snatches off his nightshirt and throws it on the foot of the bed platform and strides to a chest to withdraw a fresh tunic. He pulls it on as he follows his mate from their chamber. "I only have a little over an hour; I have to work with the possible Healer recruits this morning."

Sheina pauses and presses her lips against his own in a soft caress. "Then hurry." She grins and moves into Rekia's chamber.

Geramn grabs the dog's leash. "Come here, Ozo." A short, shaggy, black and tan dog scampers from the boys' room. The young male frisks in front of Geramn until he manages to attach the leash, then Ozo lurches toward the apartment's door. He hurries behind the dog.

The trip to the cavern where people walk their dogs is not far, but Geramn feels foolish striding behind the small hairy pet of his children. The dog was one of the few arguments between him and Sheina. He saw no use for this creature. It could not hunt, herd, or in any way contribute. Except for rodent reduction. Ozo did have a nose to ferret out any mice or rats. But overall he is a useless dog. Geramn much preferred the hunting hounds if his children needed a dog.

He sighs as Ozo sniffs a tree, finds it worthy, and lifts his leg. Sheina insisted on this dog, said Ozo's only purpose in life was to keep her children happy, and he excels at that. Geramn patiently strolls behind the piece of fluff as the dog searches for the perfect location to move his bowels. What difference can it possibly make to Ozo where he takes a dump?

"Come on, boy. Get this over with." Geramn gives an impatient tug on the leash. Ozo lifts his chocolate-brown eyes and wags his fluffy tail, but then resumes taking his time on his selection of location.

Geramn nods to several people walking past with their dogs. He notes none of the other canines are squat balls of fluff. One young dama, her child on her hip, walks a gorgeous slick-coated retriever. He smiles in appreciation of the tan dog's beauty. His eyes fall back on the squatting Ozo and his lips curl down into a frown.

As soon as Ozo completes his task Geramn rushes him back into the tunnel toward the apartment. It has been too long since he has had the opportunity to lie abed with his mate. He does not want to waste another moment.

He fairly trembles in anticipation as he reaches their apartment. Opening the door, disappointment slaps him in the face as he sees his sister seated by the fire cuddling Rekia. He bends quickly, his face turned away to hide his reaction, as he unsnaps the dog's leash. He rises with a smile on his face to greet his sister.

"Tecla, it is good to see you looking so well."

She smiles and gestures with one hand at the braces on her legs and the walking cane leaning against the wall. "I make improvement. The Healers I work with say it will not be more than another couple of moons before they can remove these braces."

Geramn walks over beside her and leans to brush her cheek with a kiss. "I can take a look if you like?"

Tecla shakes her head. "No, it is not necessary; I came to visit my sweet niece." She smiles, though her eyes well with sorrow. "I needed some girl time. It still pains me too much to spend time with your boys."

Sheina enters, bearing mugs of tea. "Your room is ready when you are. I think it will do you good to live amongst your family again."

Tecla slides Rekia to the floor cushions beside her, accepts the mug, and takes a sip. "Soon, I will be ready to leave the Healing chambers soon." She smiles at Sheina. "And you know I am humbled by the offer to take me in."

"Nonsense, you will be a great help to me with Geramn gone so much." Sheina kisses him on the cheek, then settles on a chair beside his sister. "Geramn, I left some breakfast for you in the cooking area, you should hurry or you will be late."

Sensing his wife just dismissed him, he nods and moves to the other chamber to eat. Ozo lies on a cushion in one corner, chewing on a bone. On the table, beneath a towel, he finds a platter filled with yarin-rolls. He peels the edge back from one rolled tube to find a paste of ground, roasted pine nuts, cinnamon, and honey. In another rolled tube, he finds a creamy spread of mashed stone fruit. He settles in front of his own food and raises his mug to the dog. "I hope you enjoy your day with my family, mutt." He takes a sip of the tea. Once again, he thinks he needs to take time off for his family. Even living here, with the work load of the possible Healer recruits added, he has little time for his mate and children. He takes a deep sigh and then digs into the breakfast Sheina prepared for him. He chews a yarin-cake.

His mind turns to the constant threat from the Volastoque. Shaking his head, he flings a morsel to the begging Ozo. It does no good to dwell on that topic. He firmly keeps his mind on the positives of his day. He goes to begin the classes to prepare new Healers. A good thing.

# Chapter 22

Aura glides in behind Kilita as the convoy lands around the town Miramax. She and the green dragon settle near a pond in a small meadow adjacent to the town.

" _Feed, and rest well. We shall start at first light nextday."_ Phocaea's Mindspeak is clear to all as she makes a pass over the town and lands in a large courtyard at its center. _"Who among ye speaks for the town of Miramax?"_

Aura tunes the convoy leader out as she continues to converse with the human leaders, arranging details for their escort. The meadow she and Kilita settled in is adjacent to an orchard of yarin trees; their twisted branches reach naked into the azure-blue sky. Here and there, long, orange seed pods cling to the branches. Seed pods missed in the harvest or perhaps left to be gathered to sow for seedlings in the spring.

Aura turns her eyes away; she doubts the humans will return to gather them, which ever was the case. The trip from Kitloch took two days. Shaman transported the covey in groups of six to the town of Yadmir, where they are evacuating the young and infirm. That is two days' flight west of here. She understands the return trip will take over a drama.

Aura watches with tired eyes as Kilita enters the pond and bathes. The younger dragon shows no fatigue and Aura is a bit disgruntled to find herself as worn out as she is. Not exhausted, but well in need of a good night's rest. However, she does need to feed first. _"Kilita, I am going to hunt in those low hills we passed on the way in."_

The emerald-green dragon glances over her shoulder at Aura. _"Although thou still needs to recover some weight, do not take more than one deer. If we encounter Volastoque nextday, thou does not need to be heavily laden from thy feeding."_

" _Good advice, my thanks."_ Aura lifts from the small meadow with quick wing strokes, a bit irritated she had not thought of that herself. Indeed, most of the afternoon she used the lure of two nice, fat deer when they arrived to keep her flagging efforts strong. There is so much she has to learn about battle.

She already sees she is not going to be much of an asset to the convoy. Between her lack of knowledge and low endurance, she only barely escapes being a liability. Aura arrows toward the hills, her attention focusing on hunting, forcing away her frustration. She will learn. She has never failed to accomplish a goal once she takes it to heart.

Her gaze rakes the hills, seeking game. The countryside surrounding Miramax is more open and flatter than what she is accustomed to. The gentle hills are a faint echo of the mountains near her lair. Rather, where her lair used to be. She corrects herself, then veers away from that line of thought.

She swoops lower. It will not do to dwell on thoughts in that direction; it does not allow her freshly scabbed-over grief to heal.

A few deer appear as she crests a hill, grazing in the shadow of the eastern slope. The wind of her downward plunge rakes across her scales and her talons sink into the spine of a plump buck. Swooping into a circle she lands near where she grabbed the deer. Snapping its neck, she feeds.

It does not take her long to demolish the one deer and she heeds, with regret, Kilita's advice to limit her intake. Rising from the hillside, she turns her wings to swing around the perimeter of the town.

Miramax sprawls across rolling hills to a plain bisected by the Maxzide, a wide, slow flowing river. Vast orchards of yarin trees feed the multitude of mills perched upon the Maxzide River's banks, their wheels moving steadily in the current. Wagons bearing the yarin flour line up row upon row in fields west of the town, ready to join tomorrow's convoy. Vast herds of cattle and goats swell the pastures nearby, their keepers trying to settle them for the night. The barks of herding dogs and the clamor of people rise to fill the air.

By the Lady, this convoy will spread for miles.

Aura turns her flight back to the small meadow where she left Kilita. It will be best if she is well rested at sunrise when they start. _  
_

~!~

Trella completes her bath and tries to relax in the warm water. It does no good; every part of her body aches with tension. Her gaze keeps darting to the entrance, sure Prava will arrive at any moment.

Finally, she can bear the wait no longer and she rises from the warm water to pace the chamber.

" _Nora Trella."_

She jerks around to see a black dragon standing in sharp relief at the arch entrance. She swallows hard then forces herself to respond. _"Nor Prava, greetings."_

" _May I enter?"_

" _Yes, of course."_ Flustered, Trella moves awkwardly and forces herself to sit a short distance from the pool. Prava eases into the chamber, flowing like molten tar across the stone floor. Each movement gives evidence to the coiled power within his body. He is immense, towering over her as he moves near.

" _Thou has never been with a male, they told me?"_ He settles on his thorax a few strides away, curling his tail around himself. Long slashes, most healed, but some still seeping blood, trail across his glistening ebony torso.

Trella shakes her head and tries to still the trembling in her limbs. _"I planned to wait until it was safe, so that my clutch would have a future."_

Prava nods, his deep red eyes whirling slowly in compassion. _"I agreed to this, for the same reasons I assume thou has. Personal feelings aside, our species must survive."_

" _Yes."_ Her Mindspeak is no more than a whisper.

Prava rises, his neck arching upward as his nostrils flare. _"Come to me, little one. I shall make this as gentle as possible."_

He legs barely strong enough to hold her, Trella rises to her feet and steps beside the male.

~!~

Geramn leans over the shoulder of the young man and adjusts the way the bandage lies. "There, you see? You want it to apply even pressure, however not so much so as to constrict blood flow."

"Yes, Healer." The young man continues to wrap the other lad's leg.

"Much better." Geramn pats his shoulder, then moves down the row of paired students, each with one limb extended for the other to wrap. The breeze in the meadow is chilly and he gathers his cloak closer about himself. Autumn is reaching its end; they shall need to find a location in the caverns to continue these studies.

Healer Derness sits a short distance away; her hands glow with a soft sheen of amber as she holds her crystal up for a young woman to grasp. Derness' face takes on the inward look of one accessing their powers. Her delicate shoulders sag and the tight lines around her eyes tell Geramn she tires. The testing usually proves to be more taxing than actually using the crystals to Heal.

Geramn watches for a moment, hoping this young woman will prove to have an affinity to the Healing magic. Of the forty-two Derness has already tested, only five have shown a strong aptitude and another three with a weak ability to attune to the amber crystal. Luckily, six of those without capability for the amber crystal have proven to have affinity with the green.

He glances to the center of the field. Shaman Jadrun and Shaman Tera continue to test others, but he can see that at least a score are waiting in the area they designated for those who can attune to the transportation crystal.

His attention turns back to Derness and he sees her give the young woman a wan smile and say something. The young woman's face splits in a huge grin and she jumps up to excitedly join the others who have shown ability to attune to the amber crystal. Nine, that makes nine with some level of Healer power.

Healer Derness rubs her hands together, then cups them to blow upon. Geramn heads her direction, picking his way past the clusters of those practicing bandaging.

"Nora." Geramn smiles as Healer Derness turns her gaze to him. "Let me do the testing for a while, you appear chilled to the bone. Taking a rest from using your powers will help you to warm up."

She nods. "Yes, the drain from using the Healing wave is leaving me unable to fight off this chill breeze. I would appreciate you taking over for a spell."

"I will get the next few, then we shall break for midday meal, or perhaps for the rest of the day. I think it would be best if we resume in the cavern nextday."

Derness gives him a wry grin. "Sounds like a great plan to me. My fingers are stiff and I am sure it makes it hard for the ones I test when they are trying to concentrate and keep their minds off the chill." She rises and walks toward the groups of those practicing.

Geramn motions for the next youth to take a seat on the brown grass of the meadow and lowers himself to sit cross-legged in front of the young man. He smiles to put him at ease.

"What is your name?"

"I am Kaleen, Nor Geramn.

"Kaleen, let me explain what we are going to do."

The young man nods, his brown eyes a bit anxious.

"You have seen the amber glow when a Healer uses their powers?"

"Yes, Nor."

"That is the Healer accessing the Healing wave within the crystal. The Lady gave us the different color crystals to aid the Palmir People." Geramn pulls the cord from around his neck and holds his crystal out to show the youth. "The amber crystal, if you can attune to it, allows you to aid the body in repair." He allows the youth to take the crystal into his hand. "You will not feel anything, at least not until we focus upon it."

The young man thrusts the crystal back at Geramn. "What does it feel like?"

"You know the tingle you will get in your foot, when it has fallen asleep and is awakening?"

The youth nods, his black hair falling into his eyes. He impatiently thrusts his hair back and holds the crystal toward Geramn.

Geramn lifts his hand, indicating the youth should keep the crystal. "The sensation is similar, with a flush of warmth accompanying it. Nothing to fear, I assure you." Geramn grins. "After all it is a Healing crystal, it cannot cause you any harm."

The young man gives a bashful grin. "What do I do?"

"Hold the crystal up between us." The youth does so and Geramn continues. "Yes, that is right, I will place my hands upon yours." He clasps Kaleen's hands, his fingers making light contact with the crystal as well. "I am going to focus on the crystal's powers; close your eyes and relax. Try to clear your mind of any distractions and center your attention on any sensations you feel in your hands."

Geramn slips into the initial stages of a Healer's trance with little effort. However, before he reaches the stage where he sends the pulsing power out, as he would with a Healing, he reflects a small portion of the harnessed wave back into the crystal.

Kaleen gasps, his brown eyes flying wide.

Geramn gazes steadily into the youth's eyes. "Steady, lad. Keep your attention focused and describe to me what you feel."

"A current, a stream of warmth flows up my hands, down my arms and through my entire body," Kaleen stammers out.

Geramn allows himself a smile. "Close your eyes again, Kaleen, concentrate on seeing that flow."

His eyes snap closed again. "I can see it! It looks like honey pouring in rivulets within my arms."

Geramn adjusts the harnessed energy, pulling some back. "And now?"

"It slowed."

"Fine, lad, now reach for the flow and see if you can increase it again." Geramn closes his own eyes and monitors the steady ebb of energy. Kaleen did it! The young man increases the flow from the crystal without Geramn's aid.

"I think I got it."

Geramn harnesses the energy again and causes it to dissipate. His hand drops from the crystal to Kaleen's shoulder. "Indeed you did, lad. Fine job."

Kaleen hands Geramn the crystal and, his eyes bright with wonder, asks, "What just happened?"

"You controlled the crystal's energy. That degree, without training, shows that you will indeed be a strong Healer."

"But, I do not even understand what I did."

Geramn chuckles. "It is enough that you were able to do it. The training to apply the Healing energy and focus it into the Healing wave takes guidance and much practice." He gestures to the small group of others who have shown ability to attune to the amber crystal. "Take your place with those who will receive the training, and congratulations, lad."

~!~

Montello braces against the blast of cold wind, wiping tears of pride from his eyes. Beneath him, Falcop soars across the small meadow at the rear of Kitloch Caverns. One try. His hatchling achieves flight with his first effort.

The green dragonet tilts his wings, sending ripples from the early winter sun across their tops as he eases into a glide. _"I did good?"_

"You did fantastic!" Montello shouts. "I could not be prouder."

Falcop flaps his wings again, gaining altitude. Montello moves back from the ledge as his hatchling swoops toward him for a landing.

Falcop braces his wings and lands, a bit of a scramble to stop somewhat spoiling a perfect landing, but arriving safely beside Montello.

He rushes across the stone ledge and leaps to wrap his arms about the dragonet's neck. "That was wonderful! You are so handsome in flight."

Falcop's head bends as he wraps Montello with his neck, pressing him close. _"Next time I hunt."_

"Yes, of course, you may begin hunting nextday." He pats the long expanse of neck and gestures to the cavern entrance. "Let us get in out of this cold, and I will get your feeding for this nightfall."

Falcop moves with haste to comply as the first snowflakes of the season drift down around them. Montello scrambles behind his dragonet, still grinning from ear to ear from Falcop's achievement.

Dragonhome teems with activity as numerous bonding mates care for their charges. Soon, he and Falcop will move from this cavern; only those younglings who do not hunt are housed here. Montello chuckles as he notices the slight swagger in Falcop's step. Yes, it will be better once they have moved the dragonet to his own chamber. His maturing will only lead to more confrontation with the other males; reducing close contact will limit the opportunities for problems.

Falcop climbs upon his nest, circles three times, and lowers himself to lie down.

"Good fella; you lie and rest until I get your meal."

# Chapter 23

Jadrun pulls his cloak closer as he lurches to the bottom of the gulch. He could swear he heard a response to his call. "Blanche! Blanche, can you hear me?" He tilts his head. Yes. That was a muffled response from farther up the gully. He rushes that direction and as he rounds a bend in the narrow gully he staggers to a stop. A rock slide completely blocks the gully. "Blanche. Blanche, it is Jadrun, can you hear me?"

A response, muffled but definitely a response. Jadrun scrambles to the top of the piled stones. The gully stretches before him, toward the top of the hill, empty. "Blanche!" He looks down as the barely audible answer comes from beneath his feet and toward the right side of the gully. By the Lady, she, or whoever answers him, is under the rock slide.

"I am coming, give me a moment to sort out how to remove these rocks." Rocks, damn it, many are boulders. He studies the pile and it soon becomes apparent that he will have to work from the top to keep additional boulders from rolling into the pile. Placing his water skin and satchel out of the way, he decides on his plan of action.

Jadrun moves to the location he thinks it is best to start, and, laying his hand upon two large boulders, he transports them away. Popping back to the pile, he continues to transport the rocks and boulders to the bottom of the gully a safe distance away.

A couple of hours pass as he transports rocks; he is tiring, and knows he must soon rest. The acrid taste in his mouth is almost overbearing. Then, he removes a boulder to find a gap in the gully side. "Blanche!"

"Jadrun!" A sob drifts from the small opening. "I cannot believe you found us."

The wave of relief which strikes him causes him to sag to his knees. Leaning down to peer into the dark opening, Jadrun cannot see anything. "Us?"

"There are five of us in here, my love."

Jadrun snatches a couple of the smaller rocks from the edge of the opening, then wedges his head in. He still cannot see a thing.

"Are you or anyone injured, Blanche?"

"Only minor physical injuries, though we are weak from lack of food and water."

Jadrun withdraws his head and slumps at the opening. "I must rest for a moment, then I will transport away enough rock for you to climb out. I have water, and a small amount of food. I will be right back." Picking his way carefully down the slide he goes to his water skin and takes a swallow. Hefting it in his hand, he judges it to be two-thirds full. Opening his pack, he counts the fruit bars within. Nine. He takes two and consumes them; he needs to supplement his sagging energy to remove the remaining boulders.

He makes his way back to the top, carrying the water skin and pack. "Give me a few moments, Blanche, and I will have you out of there." He lies flat against the rocks, closes his eyes, and tries to slow his breathing. "How did you end up trapped in there?"

"We were fleeing one of those beasts." The voice that responds is male.

"It could not reach us in here," another male voice, dry and scratchy, chimes in.

Blanche picks up the story. "It tried to blast us with its Killer Frost, but there is a jag at the back of this crevice, we hid around the corner till we thought it left." Her voice trails off and a soft sob reaches him.

Another woman continues. "It was hiding above. When we tried to leave, it started the rock slide." Her voice, choked with emotion, continues. "It buried my mate and three others beneath those stones."

Jadrun scans the azure blue sky. Nothing but a few fluffy clouds and a bird or two. Yet, now that he is concentrating, seeking sign of any of the creatures, he detects a faint, putrid smell of rotted mushrooms. The odor of the Volastoque. He continues to search, and realizes there are droppings of the creature a short distance up the hill from where he lies. That must be the source of the odor. The beast defecated while awaiting the humans' emergence from the crevice.

"It appears to be gone now," he calls to those trapped.

"It was a long time ago; I suspect it left once it buried us," the scratchy male voice responds.

Moments pass as the strength slowly returns to Jadrun. "Everyone stand back, in case the removal of more stones causes a slide inside."

"We are back behind the corner," Jadrun's mate calls.

Tired still, but determined to free his mate and the others, Jadrun begins to transport the rocks and boulders again. Soon the opening at the top of the cave-in is large enough for him to crawl through to open air. On his belly he works his way through the hole he has opened. Perching at the top of the pile he calls, "Blanche, come, I have opened it sufficiently."

His mate scrambles up the pile and he pulls her into his arms. Lying across the rocks, he holds her, his heart near to bursting.

~!~

When Trella awakes, Prava is gone. He had made the act gentle, as caring as he could be under the circumstances. Then he draped his wings over her, afterward, and held her as she had cried herself to sleep.

She slips into the warm pool. Her emotions in turmoil, once again, she sees in her mind's eye the immense form of the black dragon. Hovering like a dark shadow over her as her body pulsed from the climax of mating and she sobbed. He stretched his neck above her, stroking her back gently as he repeated over and over again, _"I am sorry."_

Once again, tears begin to slip down her cheeks to join the warm water of the pool. No. By the Lady, she will not allow herself to... to mourn. Yes, she mourns the loss of her dream to mate and bear offspring within that union. No. She will not. She knows what she did was the right thing to do.

Rising from the water, Trella shakes excess water from her form. She, or their offspring, shall help secure the future of dragonkind. That was not something to mourn, it was something to cherish.

Her head high, even if her emotions are in tatters, she exits the chamber, never glancing back.

~!~

Shaman Hern tugs his cloak tighter around himself as his chin scrunches down into the soft wool. He raises one hand to block the sun; yes, there are the two dragons preparing to land. He sends a silent prayer to the Lady for guidance as the black and the blue dragons settle on the crisp grass of the meadow.

"Lady Blessings, Nor Yalkin and Nora Estrola."

" _And to thee, Shaman Hern."_ Yalkin's Mindspeak is deep and resonates in Hern's head.

Estrola settles to sit with her tail curled around her; the midnight-blue dragon's entire demeanor radiates reluctance. _"What progress have thy Shaman made on this stasis for the eggs?"_

"Nor Estrola, they tell me they have a viable option they are testing at this time."

"How can we know it will work for the period necessary? It is not as if ye have time to do an investigation of such length."

"No, I am afraid the tests are limited to ensuring that a state of inactivity is achieved in the eggs they assess. They are using fertilized eggs of birds and lizards; I am told the results are beyond expectations."

Yalkin eases to the ground, a soft sigh escaping the immense dragon as he folds his legs beneath him. _"We have faith that the Shaman will do their best. Shaman Hern, this is the most difficult decision I have been faced with in all my years."_ His scarlet-colored eyes hold dark shadows of grief and anxiety as he gazes at Hern. _"The dragon elders cannot see how we can make this situation known to all. To tell our dragons and Shaman that they go into battle with no chance of survival... that would perhaps affect the outcome and we would lose all. After much deliberation, the decision has been made to follow the guiding hand of the Lady as set out in these prophecies. Know that we put our hope for dragonkind's future in the hands of those developing this stasis for our eggs."_

"You will not tell the dragons that all will be lost in the final battle?"

Yalkin shakes his massive head. _"No, our people must enter this battle without the knowledge of defeat, so that they may have the heart to do their best."_

" _We leave the hopes of our kind with this stasis."_

Hern swallows; his gnarled hand rubs his temple as his head throbs with the magnitude of this responsibility. "And the hatchlings. Those younglings and hatchlings in the caverns will survive the battle."

Estrola tilts her head to one side; the shattered and Healed bones around her eye socket makes her appear to squint as she studies the Shaman. _"Yes, those few hundred scattered across the three caverns may survive. I take it thou has not noticed they are all male?"_

"There are no females?

" _Not one,"_ Yalkin replies. _"It is one of the aspects that indicate the hand of the Lady in this. The odds that not one female would survive from this winter's clutches is overwhelming, She must be involved."_

" _Shaman Hern, we need six or seven moons."_ Estrola slaps her tail on the withered grass as if in emphasis.

"The prophecies did not show a time frame—"

" _Nevertheless, in order to produce eggs necessary for our survival, they require time to gestate."_ Yalkin shifts as if uncomfortable, with his ancient aches or the subject, Hern is not sure. _"Females of worth agree to provide their eggs for dragonkind's future. We must ensure they have time to do so."_

"I cannot help but think the Lady shall provide the period we need." Hern shakes his head. "Yet we have no guarantee. We will continue testing and improving the stasis field until you let me know the first eggs are close to clutching."

~!~

Jadrun grasps a hand and pulls the last survivor over the gully's lip. He staggers back to sit beside Blanche, taking deep breaths. "I am far too tired to transport us. We can walk, or rest here for several hours while I recover."

"I for one would like to be shet of this place." The tall, skinny man who makes the comment peers furtively around. "I swear I can still smell that monstrosity."

He pulled three women, including his mate, and two men from the crevasse. None of them have any more strength than a kitten from their depravation during their entrapment. "Can everyone walk?"

A short woman thrusts her chin out and stands, a bit shaky on her feet. "I am willing to try. I, too, am anxious to be far from here."

They all stand and gaze about them.

"Which way?" Blanche asks, her expression confused.

"East." Jadrun gestures the general direction. "If we take it easy, I should get my second wind well before we arrive and I can transport us the rest of the way."

They share one more sip each from the water skin, then begin to shamble east.

"I thought everyone gave up on searching." Blanche's voice is soft in his ear.

"They did, I continued against orders." Jadrun tucks her more firmly against his side as they walk with arms around each other's waist.

Blanche chuckles softly; the glint that enters her blue eyes makes his heart melt. "Never was I so happy to have mated a stubborn man."

Their progress is slow, barely above a crawl. The group stays close together, taking comfort in each other's presence, or perhaps having grown accustomed to close proximity. Not more than a quarter of an hour has passed when Jadrun hears a gasp from the woman at the rear of their line.

He looks over his shoulder to see the tan form of a Volastoque rising from a nearby hill.

"The damn beast waited for us to travel clear of any cover!" the tall man exclaims, reaching frantically for a rock.

Jadrun is so tired, that strikes him as funny. What did he think a rock was going to do against that creature? One of the women shrieks and Blanche trembles as she presses against him. He has no choice.

"Quickly, all come and join hands. I will try to transport."

"No, my love, you are too tired." Blanche raises fearful eyes to his.

"No choice, if we remain here, we all die."

The beast is bearing down on them as they stumble into a huddle. Pulling on all his reserves, Jadrun pictures the entrance to the Burick Lake Caverns, and initiates transport.

The grey void they find themselves in is not the Burick Lake Caverns.

Jadrun staggers and sinks to his knees; beside him, his mate lowers herself to sit on... on what? He tries to make sense of what his eyes behold. He and the survivors are surrounded by a deep, impenetrable mist. He pulls Blanche into his arms and the others huddle near them, their fear palatable.

"Where are we?" The woman who speaks has eyes hard as flint and shadowed in fear.

"This must be where those who do not successfully complete a transport end up." Jadrun forces the terror welling up in his heart down.

"By the Lady, what do we do now?" The tall, scruffy man speaks, his eyes darting wildly about them.

"How could you have allowed this?" the smallest woman shrieks, grabbing Jadrun by his arm.

"Leave off." Blanche shoves the woman away. "He saved us. Regardless of what this place is, it is better than the belly of a Volastoque, which is where we would have been in moments."

The woman sinks to sit, her head lowering, and soft sobs come from behind the sheet of her dark hair.

"I must rest." Jadrun shakes his head. "Then we can see if we can find our way out, or if I can transport us out of here."

"Rest, my love." Blanche pulls his head down onto her lap. "I have every faith we shall find a means out of here."

Jadrun studies the mist for a moment. It shrouds the entire area; no details can be made out. His gaze falls on his mate. He can take on the madness of their situation, now that his mate is at his side. He allows his eyes to sink closed, his last thought that he has not even told Blanche that Herlan is dead.

# Chapter 24

Three moons, three moons have passed since his meeting with the representatives of the dragon council. Hern pushes the parchments across the table and rubs his gnarled fingers across tired eyes.

Estrola said they needed six or seven moons. So, if they can but hold out a bit longer... The reports he just read indicate the stasis will work; the dragons will be able to secure their clutches.

He shakes his head, scrubs his palms across his face. If only there were a means to safeguard some of the Shaman. He has done what he can. The cavern where, prior to the incursions of the Volastoque, they trained initiates to the powers has been protected. The inner chambers sealed by cave-in and the entrance to the living quarters concealed by a camouflage shield. Scrolls are prepared; he will take them himself to secure in the main cavern within the power pool. Perhaps, some day, the Palmir People will be ready to apply the usage of the crystals again. The scrolls will be there, to guide them. Would that some of the Shaman could be placed in stasis with the eggs. However, so far, the experiments with animals have proven unsuccessful. Not one single mouse survived the stasis for more than a drama.

More troubling yet, to himself personally, are the two new prophecies. The healers, like himself, who have mental ability to force actions on another, are shown clearly in the foretelling. Some use their powers with the yellow crystals to compel Volastoque to travel to an area prepared by the Shaman of the red crystal. Others compel the Transport, Offensive, and yellow-crystal Shaman remain in that area as lures. All Volastoque are annihilated in the vision. So too are the Shaman.

He sighs.

It fits the other prophecies too well. All along, he has wondered how _all_ Shaman would be lost. However, the scheme shown would do just that. He struggles with the necessity to sacrifice so many, and especially without their knowledge or consent. Yet, to reveal the circumstances under which they go to battle... that could very well cause the outcome to be significantly different. How much worse it would be, if they made the sacrifice, and it did not squelch the influx of the creatures.

He takes a small carved wooden horse from his pocket.

Jadrun made this for him when still his apprentice. Now both Jadrun and Blanche are missing and assumed dead. Jadrun has not been seen for three moons, since the day of his meeting.

His fingers trace the smooth contours of the small equine as he mourns the man he had come to look upon as a son. His fingers clutch the horse as anger wells.

From Hern's last two conversations with Jadrun, it is clear to him that Jadrun must have pushed himself. The man was exhausted at both previous meetings, and had waved off Hern's suggestion that he rest. One transport too many when he was worn out. If only he had seen reason and stopped searching when ordered to do so.

Now, now he has left Montello an orphan and Jadrun himself was—well, they really did not know what happens. Only that it does, on occasion a transport Shaman does not arrive, anywhere. And thus it was with Jadrun.

He sighs, stuffing the small horse back in his pocket. May the Lady have taken Jadrun into Her presence.

He stands and, rubbing his arms against the mid-winter chill on the chamber, he shuffles out to the corridor. Montello moved his belongings in with Hern a drama after Jadrun came up missing. The two of them held a small commemorative ceremony when Jadrun disappeared, for Blanche and Jadrun. He was to meet the lad for midday meal. Now, they only have each other as family.

~!~

Geramn snuggles against his mate's back, surfeit from their lovemaking. He has time for an hour's nap, before he has to be back to the training Healers.

Ozo's sharp bark disturbs the peace and quiet.

"Damn." He lifts on to his elbow and shouts, "Shut up! Ozo, quiet!"

Sheina stirs sleepily beside him. "Why is he barking?"

A crash and the wail of Rekia joins Ozo's clamor.

"The babe." Sheina is out of the bed and rushing to the door, Geramn on her heels.

Sheina enters the babe's chamber a step in front of him, and screams.

A rat—the damn thing's body must be as long as his forearm. It pelts around the room, Ozo in hot pursuit. Sheina sprints across the chamber and gathers the babe in her arms, her emerald eyes tight with fear as she quickly examines the child.

"Get her out of here." Geramn stands between his mate and where Ozo has entered into battle with the huge rat.

Sheina clutches the babe to her and scrambles out of the chamber. The wail of the babe recedes down the corridor as the screeches and growls of the combatants fill the room. Geramn's gaze darts frantically about the room, seeking something he can use as a weapon.

His eyes fall on the stool beside the changing table. Snatching it up, he brandishes it like a club as he advances on the fight. Blood splatters the corner where Ozo has brought the rat to bay. Whose blood, he is not sure; Ozo's hair is so think that he cannot see any cuts, although the animal's black and tan hair is soaked in places.

For several long moments, Geramn stands, poised to strike but unable to find an opening. The pair writhes on the floor, making it impossible to get a safe hit on the rat without hurting the dog.

Ozo lets out a sharp shriek and the rat flings out lengthwise.

Geramn slams the stool down, one leg crushing the rat's midsection and pinning it to the stone floor. "Sheina, quickly, bring me the largest knife you have."

He looks up to see Sheina already at the doorway, a large, iron cooking vessel in her hands. Rekia wails in the other chamber as Sheina stalks toward them. His mate's face is livid with rage, the vessel wielded above her head like a club.

"Ozo, back," Sheina's command is spoken through clinched teeth.

The dog instantly backs off two steps, his teeth exposed, and a low growl emanates from his throat. The rat shrieks, frantically attempting to free itself from the stool leg that pins it.

Sheina bashes the heavy pot down on its head, the crunch of its skull breaking accompanied by bits of gore and blood squirting across the stone floor. Again she slams the rat, the muscles in her arms tight as she puts all her effort behind the blow.

Geramn releases the stool; it is obvious the rat is dead. "Sheina." He grasps her arm. "It is dead."

The pot clatters to the floor as his mate turns and burrows her head in his chest, her body shaking with sobs. "That damn thing was after Rekia. There are holes from its teeth in her sleeper."

Geramn holds his mate, shushing her as his arms try to comfort. His gaze moves from the bashed-in head of the rat to the panting dog. Ozo is a sight, his tongue lolling as he pants and his hair slick with blood.

"Good dog." Geramn swears silently that he will never question Ozo's value again.

~!~

Kilita's claws dig into the stone of the cavern as another contraction seizes her. She stares, fascinated, at her bulging abdomen as waves wash across it with each tightening of her birthing channel.

" _The discomfort will lessen after the first of thy clutch emerges."_ Aura's golden eyes pulsate with emotion as she lays her neck across Kilita's back, gently rubbing her cheek on her neck.

" _It is small enough a price to pay; soon my clutch will be here."_ Another contraction grips her body and her breath hisses softly between her teeth.

She stifles a moan as the next contraction blasts through her body. One after another egg spills out of her birth channel. Like glistening opals, they ooze out into a mound beside her.

" _Welcome, and greetings, children of Kilita and Timac."_ Aura gently eases the first arrivals away to make room for their siblings behind them. Aura's throat vibrates and the soft crooning of the dragon birthing song fills the chamber.

Aura was right, the pain diminishes as the need to expel the remaining eggs grows and Kilita bears down as hard as she can.

Aura again eases the eggs away from Kilita's body to join the growing pile. She strokes her face along Kilita's cheek and begins to recite the offspring's lineage. _"Your sire is Timac, son of Yegrall and Helrnal. Your dama is Kilita, daughter of Gernal and Oshaln. Welcome, welcome to you."_

Kilita puts forth a mighty effort and the remainder of her eggs slip from her body. She relaxes, taking deep breaths as her gaze lingers lovingly on her and Timac's clutch. Twenty-six. Twenty-six offspring to carry on their sire's strength and honor.

The scratch of nails at the entrance arch draws Kilita's eyes that direction. The massive midnight-blue form of Estrola fills the entry.

Kilita's neck shoots out toward the interloper, a harsh hiss filling the air. _"Get out."_

" _Kilita, thou knows why I am here."_ Estrola takes a step into the chamber, Belnarth close on her heels. _"We need to place the eggs into stasis as soon as possible."_

Aura draws herself up and steps between the nest and the blue dragon. _"Kilita said get out."_

Estrola pauses, her neck arcing to see around the mahogany form of Aura. _"A fine clutch, not a single grey one in the lot."_

" _I... said... get OUT!"_ Kilita stands, her battle fires igniting.

" _We need—"_

" _Thou needs to leave."_ Kilita's Mindspeak is barely above a whisper. _"I have given my word that my clutch will go into this stasis. However, not until I have the time to share with them knowledge of their sire."_

Kilita turns and encircles the nest with her body. _"Thou may return nextday to fetch my clutch, and place them in stasis. But tonight, we shall be together, if only for this one time."_

Estrola's head drops and she nods in agreement. Turning and herding her bonding mate in front of her, they exit the chamber.

Aura wraps her body around Kilita's, her neck draping over Kilita's back to rest her nose on the clutch.

Kilita's golden eyes whirl softly in the light of the orbs. Her eyes brim with tears and her Mindspeak is soft as she begins. _"So, my children. Let me tell ye of your sire..."_

~!~

Belnarth strokes Estrola's nose. "You need rest from the battles. Our Healers can only mend you so many times."

Estrola settles deeper in the warm water of the Healing cavern. _"I do what is necessary. Yet, thou may cease thy worry. For the next several dramas, we will be busy transporting clutches to stasis caverns."_

"How many, all told?"

" _Twenty-seven clutches, although there may not be time to have all damas come to the point of bearing before the battle. We have chosen three locations. It was thought it better to safeguard them in more than one."_

Belnarth chuckles. "Not putting all your eggs in one basket. That is our saying."

" _I would rather there are twenty locations, however these are all we are able to prepare for now."_

"You believe this prophecy to be true, then?"

Estrola shifts restlessly in the water, causing small waves to crash upon the shore where he stands. _"I know not if it is accurate, I simply know provisions must be made for our future. Even now, clutches are not able to be attended, so the stasis gives dragonkind a solution for the short term, and perhaps for the future."_

"You said Shaman will also perish."

Estrola peers at him with worried eyes _. "Belnarth, I told thee in confidence, thou must not repeat that information."_

"I know, I know." He frowns. "It seems to me that decisions which will have bearing on many lives are being made by only a few."

" _Yes, all other paths show the annihilation of both humans and dragons, so truly I believe there is no other way."_ She closes her eyes and scoots her head a bit farther out on the shore. _"Thou should take some time for thy daughter, while we have it."_

"She is settling in well with her foster home. Nora Sheina has taken a liking to the child and she treats her like one of her own." His eyes shadow with grief. "My daughter has spent little enough time with me. She mourned the loss of her dama terribly, I think perhaps she is better off not being around me to place her in a position where she will mourn me as well."

Estrola rolls an eye at him. _"Thy daughter will mourn thy loss, when it is time to make our sacrifice. Yet, thou can give her moments to cherish until then."_

"True enough." Belnarth stands and, giving Estrola's nose a final pat, turns to exit the chamber. "You stay in those waters till I return." He casts the words over his shoulder.

Belnarth makes his way to the chamber reserved for visiting Shaman. He finds a clean tunic and trousers in the supply cabinet and proceeds to the bathing chamber. Thoughts of his daughter and her dama fill his mind.

He had not wanted to mate. The call to serve with a dragon has been within him since his youth. Yet, Pearlitta's dama drew forth emotions he thought himself incapable of. He was pledged to Estrola when he met her... or things might have been quite different.

He removes his clothes and enters the warm water of the large bathing basin. He shakes his head; he never meant to get her with child. The news of her pregnancy with Pearlitta filled him with shame, and joy. Already bonded to Estrola, he had not felt himself free to make Pearlitta's dama his mate.

The infrequent times he shared with them, at the small cottage in the woods, are some of his happiest memories.

Completing his bath, he rises from the warm water and dons his clothes. Yes, Estrola is right. He will make more memories with his daughter. Perhaps they will sustain him in the upcoming conflict, and give her comfort afterwards. His step is resolute, but light, as he leaves to seek his daughter.

# Chapter 25

Hern staggers back, clutching his stinging hand. His eyes rake the shimmering dome arcing across the stone floor before him. "By the Lady, you said that is the lowest setting?"

"Yes, Nor." The lithe female Shaman's lips twitch as if she suppresses a grin. "Your hand and arm will tingle for a bit, but the lowest setting will not cause harm. This is the level used on the supply caverns."

Healer Geramn leans close to the three-stride-wide dome of pulsing red energy. He studies it, with his hands behind his back. "I can personally testify to the one on the supplies working. It is driving the vermin into the living areas seeking fare."

"Shaman Iris, how large an area can one of these encompass?"

"It varies according to the abilities of each Shaman. I, myself, can maintain one about three times the size of this chamber."

Hern glances about the room; it is approximately fifteen strides wide. "It will take many to protect a settlement."

"Yes, Nor. We estimate thirty to forty Shaman to create a dome the size you specify."

Geramn glances over his shoulder at the woman. "Do we have that many attuned to the red crystal?"

"There are thirty-seven."

Geramn shakes his head. "That cuts it a bit close, especially to protect a settlement for an extended period. Each will need time to rest, which would mean they are not participating in the support of the protective field."

Hern gestures to remove the field. "It will only be needed for the length of time a battle lasts." He runs his hand through his thinning hair. "We need others tested to see if any of the other Shaman can manipulate the red crystal."

"Yes, Nor, I will see to it." The woman places a list on the table. "These are those Shaman able to use the red crystal."

Hern sinks into a chair. "My thanks."

Taking it as a dismissal, the woman exits the room.

"Is there something else, Healer Geramn?" Hern watches as the Healer fidgets, then finally takes a seat at the table.

"I was hoping there is some word of Shaman Jadrun?"

"None. Since almost four moons have passed since his disappearance, we assume he is dead."

Geramn's eyes reflect grief as his nod indicates acceptance. "How is his son, Montello, doing? I seldom see him since Falcop moved to his own chamber."

"He does well. It is hard on him, of course, but he accepts the loss of his family."

Geramn clears his throat. "I grew quite fond of Jadrun. If there is anything the lad needs, do not hesitate to call upon me."

Hern contemplates the Healer. Yes, this is an opportunity to make things easier on Montello. The lad will be at loose ends when Hern disappears from his life as well, as will happen after the prophesized battle. "I think it would do him some good to have another male influence in his life. Especially a friend of his sire. Perhaps you can find time to interact with the lad more?"

"It would be my pleasure to do so." Healer Geramn glances at the door, then, lowering his voice, asks, "If I may pose a question?"

"Certainly."

"I have heard some things that set me on edge."

"Go on."

Geramn twists his hands in front of him, then lays them palm down on the tabletop. "I am piecing together some things I have heard. I am not sure I am coming to the correct conclusions. Nevertheless, they make me uneasy and I thought to speak with you."

Hern watches as the man struggles to bring forth his words. He raises one eyebrow at the Healer and says, "Rest assured, you may speak freely."

"Have the prophecies indicated our demise?"

Hern leans back in his chair. Here it is: people begin to suspect information is being withheld from the general populace.

"It is just the opposite. The Lady has shown us a path that assures the survival of the Palmir People."

Geramn releases his breath in a whoosh. "It relieves me for you to say so."

"Mind you, not without great sacrifice, but the Volastoque will be vanquished from our territory."

"To live without their constant incursions is worthy of sacrifice."

Hern nods. "Yes, such are my thoughts as well."

Geramn stands. "Thank you, Shaman Hern. I think I will go look in on Montello."

"Tell the lad not to expect me for midday meal." Hern gestures at the parchments scattered upon the table. "I am behind on many of these reports and intend to spend the day catching up."

"Certainly, Nor. Perhaps I will invite him to share the midday meal with my family. I have two boys not far behind him in age."

Hern nods and watches as the Healer makes his way out the door. Reaching for one of the reports, he finds he cannot focus on what the document says. A couple more drama and most of the dragons carrying eggs will have clutched. He feels in his bones that the attack will come shortly thereafter.

~!~

Maru shifts upon the cold stone and wishes this cavern had the thermals of his home lair. All around him, the dragon covey curls up across the broad expanse of cold floor and attempts to get some much needed rest. The yellow, green, brown, black, and orange scales of his brethren lack sheen and ripple with scars. Their breaths spiral from their nostrils in the chill, dissipating on the moisture-beaded ceiling of the chamber.

Claws rasp on the uneven stone floor as each weary dragon attempts to find a comfortable position. Exhausted sighs and low moans resonate through the stone-walled room.

Their battle covey barely found time to feed in the last drama. Constant attacks from the Volastoque kept the Shaman transporting them from one location to the next where the beasts attack.

He is bone-tired, and hungry. Fatigue overrules his stomach. He will hunt after he gets some sleep.

By the Lady, he sees no end in sight. The creatures hit in never-ending waves. How damn many of them can there be? He curls his tail snug around his body and lowers his chin to rest upon his side. Every part of his body aches. Killer Frost scorch covers much of his body; the tingle of damaged scales and flesh make it hard to find a comfortable position to lie.

He struggles to still his churning mind, but it does no good. His mind's eye is filled with scenes of death and destruction. Human families, fleeing for their lives as the Volastoque pour Killer Frost across them and extinguish their lives in an instant. Dragons, plunging with wings frozen solid from the attacks, and splattering upon the ground to move no more.

Maru forces his thoughts away from the battles and instead concentrates on his last visit to his son and mate. Aura returned to the caverns at Kitloch to be with Kilita, as their neighbor has come near to her time of clutching. Both female dragons simply glowed with their anticipation of the soon-to-be-laid eggs. Maru, too, found his heart warmed at the thought Timac's offspring would soon enter this world. The clutch must have arrived by now; it was immanently due when he was there over two dramas ago.

Maru can feel the tension leach from his battered body as the pleasant thoughts fill his mind. He watches through half-lidded eyes as Rejack enters the cavern and searches for a clear spot to lie down. The bronze has so many battle scars etched across his scales it gives him a strange pattern in the dim light of the chamber. There is a fine leader. Rejack always puts his covey before himself. He is always last to feed and rest and first to attack when in battle. Rejack's golden eyes meet Maru's gaze across the short expanse. _"My brother's mate has clutched. Word only just arrived; she had_ _twenty-six eggs a drama ago."_

" _May the Lady bless Kilita and her children with a long, healthy life."_

Rejack eases to the stone floor with a grunt, shifts until he lies facing Maru. _"That is what we fight for, is it not? A safe world where hatchlings need not fear for their lives."_

" _Will thou take time to visit Kilita while she sits her nest?"_

The bronze shakes his head, his eyes whirling in concern. _"They took the eggs away. Kilita sent word the clutch was to be placed in stasis."_ He sighs. _"I do not understand this stasis, however Kilita said it delays the hatching and safeguards the eggs until a time when they can be brought to maturity without threat to their lives."_

Maru's mind reflects the confusion he can see on Rejack's face. " _Where were the eggs taken?"_

" _Estrola and Belnarth are tasked to secure them in this stasis. I know not where."_

Maru nods, comforted a bit by this information. _"Estrola is a dragon of worth, she would not take part in this endeavor if it was not in the best interests of the clutch."_

Rejack's golden eyes continue to swirl with concern. _"I know not this Belnarth, and cannot understand the bond between he and Estrola."_

" _My son, Falcop, has a bonding mate. The lad, Montello, is devoted to Falcop. I suspect the relationship is similar to Estrola's and Belnarth's."_

Rejack slowly lowers his head to lie upon his tail. His Mindspeak is less troubled when he responds. _"I suppose it makes sense."_ The soft dripping from the beaded moisture on the ceiling is the only sound form for many heartbeats. Then in a Mindspeak heavy with sleep, Rejack adds, _"Thy mate and my brother's mate will join us soon."_

Maru's heart jumps at the information. He hates being away from Aura. However, glancing around at the battered, weary dragons slumped across the cavern floor, he wishes she did not have to join the covey. He could not bear losing her.

~!~

Trella paces around the chamber she has chosen for her time to clutch. Soon, her eggs will come soon. The cumbersome burden of the clutch makes each movement awkward. Her emotions roll like boiling clouds of a thunderstorm.

She is lonely and scared. Now angry. Vulnerable and then resentful of this task she does for dragonkind. She. Hates. This.

Trella slumps upon the nest at the rear of the cavern, her gaze tracing the curved wall of the chamber. The empty chamber. She always imagined her mate and other family members to be present when she laid her first clutch.

Her mind churns. She does not even know Prava's lineage. How can she recite it to their eggs? Who will sing the dragon birthing song? Her head lists to the side as she droops in abject misery. She has no family, and neither do these offspring she is about to bring forth.

She should have thought this through. Made preparations. Word reached her only this sunrise that Prava died in a battle near Valtown four sunsets ago. How can she tell his children of their sire, when she knows so little about the male herself?

Her abdomen clenches and her claws extend to dig through the nest material to scrape upon the stone floor of the cavern. That is the third one. Trella lurches to her feet to pace again around the small chamber.

Her nostrils flair and emit small puffs of smoke as her battle fires ignite from her agitation.

"Trella?"

She whirls to face the chamber entrance to find Pearlitta poised hesitantly at the arch.

" _Pearlitta, I thought thou was at Scholla."_

"I was. It is midday meal time and I came to check on you after I ate. What is wrong?" The child steps into the chamber, her eyes wide.

" _My time has come, little one. My clutch will soon be here."_

"Oh," Pearlitta gasps and rushes forward to lay a hand upon her front leg. "You must be so excited and happy."

Trella blinks down at her small friend. Pearlitta is right; she should be excited and happy.

"Is there anything you need? How long will it take? Should I go get Healer Geramn?" The words tumble out of Pearlitta like a stream rushing downhill.

" _Can thou find Estrola?"_

"My sire can. I just left him, we ate midday meal together. He is probably still at the serving chamber as he wanted to drink some tea with a few Shaman, after the meal."

" _Can thou go get her for me?"_

"Yes." Pearlitta gives her leg a quick hug, and then rushes toward the doorway. "Do not worry, I will be back too. I have to tell the teacher, but I will be back."

Trella stares after her for a long time. Her whirling mind begins to settle. She does have family. This child and even Estrola have come to feel like family. The trails of smoke from her nostrils slowly ceases as her battle flames settle and extinguish.

Many long moments pass; her contractions become stronger and more frequent as she waits. Finally Estrola sweeps into the chamber, her golden eyes whirling in the dim light as she rushes to the nest. _"Thou is progressing well?"_ The midnight-blue dragon hovers over Trella, swaying back and forth.

" _Mine abdomen writhes with a life of its own; it feels like I am going to turn inside out."_

Estrola's eyes shine with a glint of humor. _"Then, yes, thou is proceeding well."_

Another contraction seizes her and she stretches out on the nest, her whole body tense. Her abdomen undulates with each contraction of her birth channel.

"That looks like it hurts." Pearlitta's voice is barely above a whisper.

Trella turns her gaze on the child rushing toward her from the entrance. _"It does, but not unbearably so."_

"Healer Geramn said he could block your pain." Pearlitta's blue eyes darken with concern.

" _No, I want to experience everything."_

"But, you do not need to hurt."

Belnarth steps beside Estrola. "I will go get the Healer."

Estrola leans down to stroke Trella's cheek. _"I doubt there is time."_

Pearlitta gasps as the first egg peaks out from Trella's birth orifice. "Oh, something is trying to come out!"

Trella shifts and the egg withdraws. _"I suspect the next contraction, we will have some lain."_

Estrola lifts her neck, the midnight-blue scales vibrate, and a thrumming fills the chamber as she begins the birthing song.

Her eyes bright with excitement, Pearlitta edges closer. Belnarth reaches to draw her back, but Pearlitta impatiently shakes off his hand.

" _She is fine: it is good to have her close."_ Trella strokes her head gently against her little friend.

Another contraction seizes her and she stifles a moan. Three eggs flow from her birth channel, red, blue and green; they glisten in the nest beside her.

"Three, you have three already!" Pearlitta vibrates with excitement as she reaches to touch one of the glistening orbs. "Oh, they are still warm and not hard at all."

Trella jerks with surprise as Belnarth's baritone voice begins to recite Prava's lineage. Her eyes mist and she blinks tears away, her heart filled with joy that their sire's family will be known to their clutch.

Pearlitta, her face suffused with joy, strokes Trella's side as, shimmering with moisture, more eggs expel from Trella. They are a bit taller than the child, and Pearlitta steps closer to examine them. "They are not white; not really, each has a slight color to the shells. Your eggs are beautiful, Trella!"

Belnarth pauses in his recital and Estrola takes up the chant, listing Trella's bloodlines.

"Can they hear you?" Pearlitta's eyes, wide as saucers, lift to gaze in wonder at Estrola.

Estrola nods, her golden eyes swirling with amber glints. _"Yes, child, they can learn language in the shell and often retain what they hear."_

Pearlitta's eyes well with tears, her face one of radiant joy as she lift her gaze to Trella. "Can I talk to them?"

" _Of course, thou is my friend."_

"Welcome, baby dragons. My name is Pearlitta and I am a friend of your mother, and yours." Pearlitta moves close to the clutch and stokes a light-green egg. "I cannot wait to meet you all in person. And I have things I want to tell you, too, about your fine dama."

More eggs join the growing pile as Trella bears down to bring the rest of her clutch into the world. Eggs spill out until over thirty lie glistening in the nest.

Pearlitta climbs upon Trella's tail, seats herself where she can touch the eggs. Estrola drapes her neck over Trella's back to rest her nose on the clutch. She softly begins to hum the song of welcoming.

Trella's golden eyes whirl softly in the light of the orbs. _"Such a small amount of life is made up of unforgettable moments."_ She nudges Pearlitta. " _This, my friend, is such a moment."_ Her eyes brim with tears.

# Chapter 26

Hern glances over his shoulder. The two dragons look almost as dumbfounded as he was the first time he saw a protective field. "Nor Yalkin, is the height sufficient? Will it catch them in flight?"

Yalkin nods, then his huge black head turns from side to side to study the glowing red arc that glitters across the small valley. The arc is transparent. Evergreens and long grass, dead in the mid-winter chill, spread beneath them. A small stream trickles through the center, most of its width encased in ice. _"For how long can they sustain this?"_

"They have been at it for five hours so far, this is the first test of this magnitude. The previous protective fields they sustained over three sunrises, but those were much, much, smaller." Hern gestures along the ridge where they stand. "We have the Shaman encircling this valley, to allow for more height with the field-dome. However, I think with more practice they can maintain a field on a flat area with as much height." He scrubs his arms briskly; despite his thick cloak, he is chilled to the bone. "The main problem will be maintaining the field long enough."

Yalkin turns a puzzled gaze toward him. " _The camouflage fields over two of thy caverns have been maintained for moons."_

"Yes. Yet, this is a different type of power and they are less accustomed to maintaining it. The camouflage barrier is maintained with the orange crystals. Those able to access the power of that crystal tell me it becomes a task as natural as breathing for them to maintain the field. They do not think about it much, any more than you focus on breathing." He grins as both dragons begin to inhale and exhale in choppy breaths. "Yes, you see, once your attention has been brought to your breathing, you make effort to breath, and spend an inordinate amount of energy to maintain it."

" _This protective field is something they cannot put in place and maintain with the ease of the other, then?"_

"The red crystals require strength of focus that is well beyond that of the orange crystal." Hern rubs his hand across his forehead. "Shaman tire more easily, they feel a constant pressure in their heads while maintaining the field and it draws much from them. We do not have enough Shaman that we can allow any to rest and still maintain the field. Therefore, they simply begin to collapse with too long a term." He glances at the field. "Right now, we can maintain it for five hours; with practice, we hope for a longer time."

Niwah shakes his head; his right eye with the gash over it radiates skepticism. _"I do not see how thou intends to ensure all the Volastoque are entrapped in this field."_

Hern turns to the deep-green dragon, swallows through a tightness in his throat before he responds. "I, and others like me, will make certain they are."

Niwah chuckles and the web of battle-scars across his body jig in the bright sunlight as he heaves himself to his feet. _"Forgive me, Nor Hern, if I am skeptical of that claim."_

"Pardon me, Nor Niwah, but I think you need an example." Hern pulls the yellow crystal on its chain from beneath his tunic and grasps it in his hand. For a moment his eyes close as he gathers and focuses the energy of the crystal.

He glances about the bare ridge; his eyes catch on a lone pine a short distance down the opposite side from the protected valley. He turns his gaze back to the green dragon. His hand begins to radiate warmth as a yellow glow works its way from the crystal, up his arm, and encases his head. He pushes forth the thought, using enough force to ensure compliance.

Niwah's good eye flies open wide as he jerks around and rushes the short distance to the pine. Clods of dirt fling into the air as he jerks the pine up by the roots. Carrying it in his mouth, he returns to slam it on the ground near Hern.

Hern allows the power from the crystal to dissipate, withdrawing his control from the dragon.

Niwah's battle fires ignite and smoke trickles from his nostrils. He shakes himself in an obvious attempt to rein in his anger, and then speaks, his Mindspeak seething with controlled resentment, _"Very well, Nor Hern, thou has proven thy point. But will thou be able to control the vast numbers of creatures foretold in the prophecy?"_

"Myself, alone, no. However, others will combine their powers with my own, just as we have done to create this protective field."

" _If thou can do this, bring them to where they can be entrapped, then why must there be sacrifice of life?"_ Yalkin's Mindspeak is soft and his red eyes whirl as he gazes, unblinking, at Hern.

Hern's shoulders slump as he gestures to the red-pulsing arc. "It blocks out our powers. The Shaman who call the creatures and the Shaman who use the blue rays must be inside to use their powers, as will the dragons to fight them."

Once again smoke puffs from Niwah's nostrils, but Hern thinks it is not directed at him this time. _"We will be locked inside, in a battle to the death."_

"Yes."

" _So, when we prevail, thy Shaman sustaining this field will remove it."_

"That is the plan. Hopefully, they can sustain the field long enough to allow our combined forces to eliminate the beasts."

Yalkin's eyes hold shadows deep within them as he asks, _"And if they cannot?"_

Hern raises his hand and waves it. A young Shaman fifty strides away nods and relays the gesture. The red glow of the protective field intensifies. Ripples of power surge across its surface and it begins to bulge. A loud crackle, similar to the sound of static, emanates from the field, then with a whoosh of air, it crashes inward with a blast.

Hern and the dragons brace themselves against the strong wind that rakes across the ridge. He closes his eyes against the bright, crimson flash filling the valley. When he opens them, the valley is laid to waste. Trees fall in a pattern radiating out from the center, naked of their bark as if scraped clean by a large hand. The stream is gone, only the bed in which it traveled marks that it ever existed.

They stand in silence for a moment. Hern's ears are still ringing when Yalkin's Mindspeak comes to him. _"All inside will die."_

Hern signals to the Shaman that they are dismissed to rest and turns away from the destruction below them. "Yes. They will hold the field as long as they can. However, if we are losing, or if they are in threat of losing the ability to sustain the field, they will make it implode."

The dragons continue to stare in awe at the devastation, but Hern keeps his gaze upon the hills. A single tear trickles down his face as he prays to the Lady that the Shaman maintaining the field can hold it long enough for dragons and Shaman to emerge as survivors.

~!~

Estrola steadies the egg as Belnarth scoops more sand around its base. They work by the light of four orbs. Her gaze runs across the assembled clutches. Over two hundred already in this one location, and it was only one of five prepared to accept the eggs that were the hope of dragonkind's future.

"There, I think that has it." Belnarth straightens and uses a rag to mop his sweating face. "Turn loose of it, Estrola; let us see if it is stable."

She releases the egg, her fore-talons staying inches away in case it shifts. _"I think that does it."_ She eases back from the egg, moving far enough away so Belnarth can activate the stasis field. A slight tingle rushes across her body as the field engages.

"By the Lady, it is warm in here." Belnarth plods over beside the crystal-enrobed wall and eases to sit.

" _These crystal caverns are ideal. All five of the locations are fed with a hot spring and the humidity and warmth will help ensure the health of the eggs while in stasis."_ She turns her gaze away from the eggs to sweep the chamber. They are behind falls. The musical rush of water fills the chamber and beads of moisture fill the air. Although she cannot attune to the crystals, she can sense the Healing power that pervades the chamber. _"Come. Belnarth, let us return. I wish to assure Trella that her eggs made it safely."_

"Very well," the Shaman mumbles and struggles to his feet. He grabs a pack from the ground and then shuffles around extinguishing three of the four orbs. The fourth he leaves aglow so they may have some light when they return. "Are you sure you can fly back right now? I, for one, am exhausted."

" _I am fine. This cargo tarp,"_ she gestures to the canvas sack slung over her back, _"made it where there were only two trips this time. Thou had most of the work, transporting and then working to secure the eggs in the nest. Thou can rest while I fly us back."_

They ease around the falls and enter an immense cavern. Amber-colored spikes, the diameter of a man, jut from the ceiling and reach eternally for their counterparts on the floor. Sparkling columns are plentiful throughout the expanse. The white, peach, and amber crystals covering their surface reflect miniature rainbows that give the cavern a soft glow.

The sparkling waterfall beside them crashes into a deep, rich amber-colored steaming lake. Water droplets fill the air, creating a haze in front of the falls.

"Estrola, I would love a good soak before we go." Belnarth starts away from the falls, following the shoreline. "There is a small alcove a ways down the shore with an excellent place to soak."

" _How does thou know of this?"_

"I told you. This cavern is one of the locations used to train Healers, or used to be anyway. I often brought apprentices here over the years before I met you." Belnarth follows a jagged turn of the lake and stops where the shoreline dips into a small alcove, no more than fifteen strides wide. He begins to shed his clothes. "You should join me. The water here has Healing properties and you still need to soak some of your injuries away."

Estrola peers in front of Belnarth as he proceeds to strip down to his loin cloth. A basin extends from the lake, lined with stone benches. She watches as Belnarth enters using hand-hewn steps that shimmer beneath the water and run down from the shore to the bottom of the waist-deep pool. Over a dozen people could sit comfortably, or six to eight recline on the benches, without being crowded. Belnarth grins at her as he settles on a bench.

"You may as well make yourself comfortable." He gestures at the lake. "Come on in, the water is fine."

" _Belnarth, we really do not have time for this."_

"Yes we do. I am too tired to transport us right now." His eyes sparkle with mischief as he once again points to the lake. "If you would follow my example and rest a while, I can transport us back. Basically the time it would take you to fly, we can soak instead."

Unable to refute the logic of his statement, Estrola enters the lake. The water is almost too hot. She pauses, with only her legs submerged, to allow herself to become accustomed to the temperature. Her talons flex in the water; already she can tell they benefit from the heat, as the joints do not ache as much.

Holding her breath, she lowers her body to settle on the bottom. She exhales when the rush of blood creeps up her torso as her body accommodates to the hot water. Water laps gently over her shoulders as she settles. It feels wonderful. She gazes about the cavern, enchanted with the beautiful crystalline pillars and projections hanging from the ceiling. _"It is lovely here."_

Belnarth sighs, scooting down on the bench to settle with the water at chin height. "Peaceful too. I think that is one of the things I miss the most. We are always bustling about on errands or engaged in battle. Any more it is too much to ask for a moment or two of peace and quiet."

Estrola lowers her head to allow it to float on the water surface. Only the rustle of bat wings near the ceiling, the sound of the falls, and the lap of the water on the shore breaks the quiet.

She must have dozed off.

Estrola opens her eyes and yawns. By the Lady, she feels good. The aches and pains in her body have receded to a point where she can almost ignore them.

"Enjoy your nap?"

She glances at Belnarth. He has pulled his pack to the shore beside him and chews on a strip of dried meat. _"How long have I been asleep?"_

"Not long enough."

" _When thou finishes thy meal, we need to get back."_ She shifts in the water, extending her wings to float upon its surface.

"The next clutch is not due for several sunrises, there is no real hurry."

She takes a few strokes with her wings, gliding out to where the water is deeper. _"Thou knows we need to be available in the event of an attack."_

"True, yet I doubt a few hours more will make much of a difference."

She does not respond. Rather she thrusts her wings and swims the perimeter of the lake. It really is huge, much larger than the expanse covered by many of the human towns. The muscles in her wings and shoulders loosen with the exercise in the hot water and soon she is speeding along as fast as or faster than she could fly. She sees little sign of the humans using the underground grotto. An occasional alcove, such as that where Belnarth rests, but not much more to indicate the Healers had been here before.

She returns to where Belnarth rests. _"Perhaps we should transport to check on the other clutches in stasis. A couple we have not been to for well over a drama."_

"I am sure they are fine. The stasis fields have performed well."

She shakes her head. _"Thou would not be so quick to trust this new stasis if it safeguarded the future of humans."_

Belnarth sits upright, his eyes hard as he glares at her. "That is not fair. You know I am as concerned about our task as you are."

" _Thou is not a dragon, there is no way thou can understand the threat of annihilation of our species."_

"No, perhaps not. Yet has it dawned on you that as a Shaman, I am part of the human species that will be wiped out as well."

Embarrassment surges through Estrola. _"My apology."_

Belnarth nods and, his body held rigid, he climbs the steps and begins to dress. "You are not in this alone, Estrola."

She eases onto the bank. _"I know, I know. It is just so hard. I understand why the Elders felt it necessary to keep the prophecy from the other dragons. Yet, sometimes I feel the responsibility of safeguarding dragonkind's future has fallen upon me alone."_

Belnarth pulls his tunic over his head. His hair in disarray, he stares at her. "It is the same for me, and I must maintain silence with my fellow Shaman as well. Estrola, you are not in this alone."

" _Of course not. I am sorry, Belnarth. I am out of sorts today."_

"It is hard on both of us." He steps into his trousers and sits to pull on his footwear. "I found myself trying to say everything I could to Pearlitta when we spent time together yesterday. I know I confused the poor child. However there were so many things I did not want to leave unsaid, when... Well, when this is over."

She shakes the residual water from her scales and looks up at the breach in the ceiling where they enter the cavern. _"We do what we can. Come, let us go check on the other clutches. I think perhaps we should seal the entrances on all but this one. That will keep them safe from any Volastoque explorations."_

"The Shaman Council left directions in three locations how to reverse this stasis, and the locations of the clutches for the survivors to use. We need to conceal the entrances, but keep in mind that anyone trying to revitalize the clutches may only be my size."

He stands and walks over beside her, laying one hand on her forearm. "Are you ready?"

At her nod, he transports them to begin their round of checking on the precious clutches in stasis.

~!~

Aura and Kilita stand waiting at the base of the hill. Montello is trying to coax Falcop into coming down with his kill. Aura's heart is filled with pride. Her youngling made his first solo kill today.

Kilita turns her gaze toward Aura. " _He did well. I remember my first kill, I overshot the deer by several strides and had to double back to get him."_

" _Yes, Falcop is a natural hunter. Much like his sire."_

" _I know thou looks forward to seeing thy mate, when we join them nextday."_

" _Yes, it has been too long."_

They can hear Montello as he manages to convince the young dragon that coming down to show off his kill is better than continuing to feed. Kilita chuckles as the green dragon grasps the large deer in his mouth and proudly scrambles down the hill, Montello frantically trying to keep up. _"He is quite large for his age."_

" _Yes, Montello has seen to him receiving the best of the selections here. He said Falcop is already consuming six to eight deer a drama."_

The pair arrives beside Kilita and Aura. Falcop proudly places the deer at Aura's feet, then strikes a proud pose. _"My dama, I hunt."_

" _Yes, and a fine deer it is too, Falcop. Thy sire will be most pleased with thee."_ Aura lowers her head to stroke her cheek alongside Falcop's. _"Soon thou will be helping to provide for the caverns."_

" _Tomorrow, I hunt for the caverns. This deer is mine."_ Falcops's eyes take on a gleam of possessiveness, then he lowers his head. _"Unless thou would like to feed, dama?"_

" _No, no, thou enjoy thy first kill, my son."_

Falcop reaches to grab the deer, then pauses. _"Nora Kilita, would thou like to feed?"_

" _My thanks, Falcop, but thou should eat it. There is only one 'first kill' and thou should enjoy the fruits of thine efforts."_

"I can get you something?" Montello tugs on his forelock and smiles at the two dragons. "It will be no trouble, as I will not have to get Falcop his meal this evening."

Aura shakes her head. _"We can hunt momentarily. Thou has done a fine job caring for my son, thank thee, Montello."_

The young man's eyes grow soft as he gazes at the young, green dragon. "It is I who should thank you, for this opportunity. Falcop is very important to me, he has become family."

Kilita nods, her eyes sparkling as she responds, _"Yes, I know what thou means; I too have found family is not limited by species."_

Aura can feel her heart swell with warmth. _"No, indeed, we find many individuals to cherish, be they dragon or human."_

# Chapter 27

Hern's gaze sweeps across the serving cavern. Scattered across the tables in small groups, people enjoy midday repast. He looks at his own meal; he needs to eat, yet he finds little appetite. So many problems, so many preparations...

Forking some mashed roots into his mouth, he forces his thoughts to the more positive aspects. Arrangements come together to safeguard the dragons' clutches produced to place in stasis. The Shaman of the red crystals managed to enlarge and increase the protective field's power.

He swallows the mashed root past the constant tightness in his throat and spears a small sausage and takes a bite. The flavor of sage and pork bursts in his mouth. Chewing, he reflects that even the prophecies branch in directions more positive, if a bit confusing. The report he received on the three new ones this sunrise... He is yet to understand.

He swallows and takes another bite of sausage. The dragon elders are as confused as he after he relayed the fresh prophecies. All three, with some variations, show the Lady taking the souls of dragons lost in the upcoming battles to Herself, then sending them back into the world. None of their teachings or ancient texts even hinted such a thing is possible.

He sighs. Who are they to question the powers of a god?

The dragon elders, although confused, rejoice over the information. He knows from their reactions their commitment rests much lighter on their shoulders with the prospect of intervention by the Lady.

He sighs, forcing down a few more bites of his food. In reality, things come together well. Montello settles into a strong relationship with Falcop. Hern has no fear the lad will not thrive after the final battle. Geramn included him in several fishing outings with his own boys and Montello fits in fine with them.

So, what really has him so on edge?

He completes his meal and, after dealing with his dishes, dons his cloak and exits the chamber. He decides to stroll to the courtyard at the main tunnel entrance. A breath of fresh air will do him good. The tunnels and chambers he passes are filled with bustling people. The Palmir People are always in a hurry to get anywhere and get things done. He chuckles; he supposes that is much of the reason they prospered. At least, until the incursion of the Volastoque.

He exits the cavern tunnel and moves out upon the cobblestone courtyard. The desolate landscape of mid-winter greets his gaze. The valley below is bereft of color, the muted tones of dead grasses and here-and-there piles of un-melted snow are the predominate features. Kitloch is too far south to really lock into winter as much of the land does. He tugs his cloak snugger around his thin body. Although the temperatures certainly lower each day.

He moves to the banister around the edge of the courtyard and gazes into the valley.

Three dragons patrol the perimeter within the camouflage cloak. A red and two greens, today. He can see the herd with those who tend it scattered about the lower portion of the valley. The camouflage field is extended to reach into the woods to allow the herd shelter against some of the worst weather.

Geramn has his Healers-in-training down there with them today. Hern watches them inspect the herd as the knot of tension in his belly slowly begins to ease.

Since they made the decision to prepare for the prophecy that requires the sacrifice of Shaman and dragons, he believes it to be the correct decision. Yet, always, the sacrifice seems overwhelming. He knows the time grows near. All portents point to the climactic battle occurring soon, perhaps within a drama, certainly before the next moon.

The Lady has shown them the path. He must place his trust in Her that it is the best path for the Palmir People. He allows the peace of the view to sink into his soul. For the first time, he is reconciled to the need for the sacrifice, of all those who will die to save their people, including himself.

~!~

Geramn grins as Elish's face takes on an aspect of wonder when the youth moves into the primary position in the Healing trance. Geramn watches the bone knit beneath Elish's hands and he helps restore the blood supply to the bull's foreleg. Geramn guides the final push of the Healing wave to continue the curing and withdraws from the trance.

"You did well, lad." He reaches across the young bull to clasp Elish's shoulder as the youngster comes out of his trance a bit bleary-eyed.

A faint blush colors Elish's cheeks as he reaches to push his brown hair back from his eyes. "Thank you, Nor."

The young bull shakes his head and the two of them leap back. The bull rises to lie on his thorax; his unsteady gaze pins the two of them.

"It may be best if we move away before he can get to his feet. Not all of our patients recognize we are here to help." Geramn takes Elish's forearm and guides him quickly away from the bull.

Elish hurries beside him. "I appreciate you allowing me to take the lead Healer position this time, Nor Geramn."

"You were ready, lad. I kept an eye on things, you did everything correctly." Geramn gazes across the field, noting which apprentices are still engaged in tasks with the cattle and how many are at rest near the small fire. "It appears most of our chores here are finished. Sheina asked that you join our family for evening meal, if you are free?"

"I would love to come, Nor Geramn." Elish's green eyes take on a sparkle. "Are we going to play arul, again, afterwards?"

Geramn chuckles. "My boys do love it. They have worn out two hide-covered balls in the last moon alone." He reaches and ruffles Elish's hair. "It is a game that requires a steady hand, good training for a Healer."

Elish grins and scampers on ahead of Geramn to help gather up the supplies. Geramn waves his hand to get the attention of the other apprentice Healers. "I think we will call it a day. If everyone would give those still finishing up a hand, we can head back to the cavern."

Healer Derness catches his eye and calls, "I can stay with the ones still finishing exams. All the injuries are taken care of, so these are just routine physicals. You go on ahead, spend some time with your family."

Geramn waves his thanks and starts across the meadow to the road leading back to the cavern. The camouflage dome above him polarizes the light from the late afternoon sun and gives his surroundings a faint orange hue. There is little traffic on the road. It has been dramas since the final caravans arrived from outlying areas and the Shaman Council banned all but necessary traffic outside the dome. To do otherwise would have risked the revelation of their location.

Of Sheina's family there is still no word, and he fears that means they were all lost in the attacks. Geramn's own brother Derk and his mate and children are confirmed losses, along with his sister Tecla's mate and sons. So many losses.

Geramn's feet make little sound as he strides along the well-packed road. He will ask Montello to join them at evening meal. Jadrun's son seems well adjusted to his circumstances, yet Geramn often sees shadows of grief in the lad's eyes. It will do him some good to spend some time with Elish and the boys.

He reaches the spot two-thirds up the road, where it begins its steep incline to reach the cavern, when a dragon sentry's challenge rings out. Geramn's throat tightens as adrenalin rushes through his body. He lifts his hand to shade his eyes and sees a red and a green dragon arrowing across to where another green hovers, his neck arched high, with battle flames ignited. The green dragon stares past the barrier, to the east. From where he stands, Geramn cannot see anything past the semi-opaque arc of the camouflage barrier.

He glances toward where the apprentices are and sees Healer Derness hurrying them toward the shelter of the woods. His gaze turns back to the green dragon to see the dragon's neck lower and his flames diminish. Geramn unclenches his fists and breathes a sigh of relief, it is no danger then.

Quickening his ascent to the cavern, he keeps his eyes on the sky near where the three dragons congregate. The sight of a battered yellow dragon emerging through the camouflage shield brings his strides to a halt. Even from his distance, he recognizes Trella. Large rents along the yellow's sides are clearly visible and her flight is wobbly at best. The two green dragons fly escort to the battered yellow toward the courtyard at the entrance to the cavern.

Geramn pushes into a run and arrives at the courtyard as the dragon drops a battered Shaman onto the cobblestones and collapses her wings, managing a rough landing. Making a quick appraisal, Geramn decides Trella needs his attention first. He rushes over, his eyes moving quickly across her wounds to ascertain which are worst in need of attention.

Trella's wings splay around her as she sags where she stands. Her green eyes well with pain as she turns them upon Geramn. _"Thou must take the Shaman to Hern, immediately."_

Geramn turns to the Shaman, only to see Shaman Hern making his way across the cobblestones. "He is here." Returning to his examination, he asks, "Where did you encounter the beasts?"

" _North of_ _Burick Lake."_ Her breath hisses between her teeth as Geramn pries at a long rent in her side. _"Hundreds of them, aid must be sent. Where are the dragon elders?"_

Geramn shakes his head. "I do not know, but you must be still. If I do not get these wounds closed, you will bleed out here on the courtyard."

" _In a moment, Healer."_ Trella drags herself closer to Shaman Hern; Geramn has no alternative but to follow.

"... of the dragons remain. Maybe thirty or so, to hold them until backup arrives." The transport Shaman clutches his side, his face pale with agony as he struggles to convey the message. "They will not be able to keep them away from the cavern."

Shaman Hern's body is rigid and his eyes piercing as he asks, "Has Burick Lake been warned?"

" _Is there a Royal here at Kitloch?"_ Trella's Mindspeak cuts off the transport Shaman's reply.

Shaman Hern jerks around to stare at the dragon. "Yes, of course. We can send a message to Burick Lake's sentries."

" _The dragon elders need informed as well. If reinforcements do not arrive soon, all will be lost."_

Shaman Hern freezes for a moment, all color drains from his face. "Yes, of course. We have made preparations." He turns to a young man at the side of those gathered. "You, run to the dragon quarters and see that a message is sent to the dragon elders. Tell them the battle for which we have prepared is imminent at Burick Lake."

Trella eases to sit beside Geramn. _"Healer, seal these wounds, so that I may return to fight beside my comrades."_

"Nonsense, you are not going anywhere." Geramn places his hands on the yellow dragon, preparing to enter a Healing trance."

"No, she is right. Heal her so that she may return."

Geramn turns to stare at Shaman Hern, but he is already turning and yells for all Shaman to gather for transportation to Burick Lake Cavern. He returns his gaze to Trella.

"Quickly, Healer Geramn, for each moment we waste, those creatures kill more dragons and encroach upon the humans at Burick Lake."

He immerses himself in the Healing wave, sending a quick prayer to the Lady that he does not Heal this dragon only to send her off to die.

# Chapter 28

Light-headed and dizzy, Hern pauses at the entrance to the cavern, leaning against the door frame as he takes a moment to pull himself together. He feels as tight and drawn out as an archer's bowstring before the release. He stares at the yellow dragon as Healer Geramn works on her. This is it. The final conflict foretold by prophecy, this has to be it.

Hundreds of the creatures attack, more than on any other occasion. _This must be the event foretold._ He trembles as the full impact of this sinks in. The courtyard surges with activity when red crystal-using Shaman arrive and gather around transport Shaman who will take them to their destiny. Each man or woman wears a solemn expression of determination.

Hern forces himself to center, and slowly his trembling ceases. His gaze is drawn to the yellow dragon; she appears anxious for the Healer to complete her repairs so she may return to battle. She so typifies those who struggle to save the Palmir People.

His spine straightens and he stops several youths, issuing instructions for deployment of the Shaman who will erect the protective barrier. There is a valley to the north of Burick Lake Cavern that should suit their needs nicely.

He glances down at his attire. He had been headed to his chambers to change, but thinks better of it. He sends a youth for his cloak and joins the Shaman readying for transport. Four transportation Shaman have already arrived on the courtyard and he bids them to take the Shaman of the red crystals to their location. One by one the groups disappear.

The yellow dragon stands and he can hear her Mindspeak as she calls out to the sentry dragons that she is ready to join them in transporting to the battle. He steps to the rail between the ledge and the valley below and watches as she joins the three dragons, one holding a transport Shaman in its forearms. The four dragons transport away.

For a moment, all is quiet in the courtyard behind him and Hern takes a deep, appreciative breath of the crisp, clean air. The Lady has blessed them with a fine day to die for their people.

~!~

Maru dodges a stream of Killer Frost. He twists sideways, blasting his battle flames over the tan creature. His breath hisses out in a rapid pant as Maru watches the beast's wings ignite and then turns his attention to another. There are so many. The air above the large lake teems with Volastoque, swirling through the air like an angry hornet swarm.

Multi-hued colors of the dragons look like mere specks of flotsam amongst the teeming mass of the creatures. The chilly air thickens with odors of burning flesh and screeches of the dying and wounded.

Maru draws in a ragged breath and blasts another Volastoque. His body slams into a spiral as another beast rakes talons across his tail. Frantically his wings grab air, steadying his flight. The Volastoque that got his tail attacks again, and reaches talons dripping with blood for his wings.

Maru folds his wings and dives. Chill air blasts past as he rapidly looses altitude, the beast in close pursuit. Maru extends his wings at the last moment and skims across the lake's surface, his passage throwing water in his opponent's face.

Powerful downward thrusts allow him to gain altitude and his body folds as he turns to spew fire across his opponent. The beast shrieks and crumples, tumbling to splash into the lake. For a few breaths the air around him is clear of the creatures and Maru scans the battlefield as his breathing slows from the quick gasps to normal.

He squints against the sun low on the horizon and sees perhaps one hundred dragons remain aloft. With at least three times that number of creatures battling the dragons. By the Lady, dragons have little chance of survival, let alone turning the beasts from the cavern.

Through twisting bodies of combatants, across Burick Lake he sees a familiar mahogany form. Aura. His mate flails, embroiled in battle with two huge tan creatures. Fear clenches Maru's heart as one of the beasts latches onto Aura's back.

His wings snap down. He thrusts with all his might to gain speed as he hurls toward his mate. Aura bucks, twisting her neck as she tries to latch onto the creature on her back. His heart aches as she fails to fling the creature free. Aura falters in her wing strokes as she weakens.

Maru exhales a blast of fire at a beast in his way. The creature plummets, engulfed in flames, toward the lake. He wrenches his gaze back to his struggling mate. He will not make it in time. Aura loses altitude with every wing stroke.

A green dragon plunges from above Aura and rips the beast free of his mate. Kilita! Maru redoubles his efforts as the creature and the green dragon entangle in battle, hurtling groundward.

Aura spins dizzily. Finally her head jerks up and she manages a few weak wing thrusts, slowing her descent. Rage and frustration build in Maru as Kilita and the struggling Volastoque smash upon the shoreline. Neither of them moves.

Another two beasts target Aura. Her faltering wing strokes barely keep her aloft as they rake across her back, tearing her wings with their sharp claws. Bright furrows of red blood stream down her mahogany sides and course along her wings. Every fiber of Maru seethes in rage as he finally reaches his mate.

He snatches the first beast from her back. As the beast clears his mate, he catches a brief flash of Aura's agony-filled expression. He snarls and swings the creature by two of its wing struts, snapping them in two. Maru's talons unclench, releasing the fragmented bones. His battle flames engulf both broken wings, and the second set, sending the shrieking beast groundward in a ball of flame.

" _Aura, withdraw, thine injuries are too severe to continue fighting."_ Maru executes a quick turn and engages the other Volastoque, hoping to give Aura time to flee. He risks a glance at his mate.

Aura's torn wings flutter as she makes a rough landing beside Kilita and the fallen creature on the shore.

Maru dodges the beast's venomous barb and closes with the creature, his mouth wide, reaching for its gullet. Claws scrape ineffectively across his neck and abdomen plates as he sinks his teeth into the Volastoque's throat. Hot, foul blood floods his mouth as he tears, jerking a chunk loose. Somersaulting, its screech bubbling through a fountain of blood, the creature falls. Maru scans the surrounding area. For the moment there are no close Volastoque.

He turns his attention to Aura. _"Is she..."_

" _Dead."_ Aura's Mindspeak wells with anguish and pain. _"Kilita is dead."_

Maru swallows hard against his sorrow. _"Can thou fly, my love?"_

" _I do not know if I want to. I will not flee while thou continues to battle."_

" _If thou must continue—"_ Maru's gaze rakes across the overwhelming horde of creatures. _"I would have thee in battle beside me against our foes."_ His gaze drops to the green dragon's tangled body. _"I suppose, thou must fight on, so that her sacrifice will have meaning."_

Aura's stare locks with his across the distance; then she turns to contemplate the swirling mass of creatures. _"Indeed. We shall take out as many as possible."_

Her mahogany head bends briefly and Maru hears a soft prayer to the Lady, then she releases a whoosh of dragon fire on Kilita. They watch as their friend burns and the ashes swirl high above the battlefield. Aura's Mindspeak is bleak as she says, _"How many dragons must feed their ashes to the skies, or men nourish the earth with their bones in hopes their children will not have to do the same?"_

Maru has no answer; he sweeps the area, seeking their next combatant.

Trembling wings lift her until she flies beside him _. "I find no better death than to die beside thee, my love, in battle protecting our allies and people."_

~!~

Estrola jerks her head up in mid-flight and listens intently.

Faint, but clear, the Mindspeak of a Royal reaches her. _"All dragons are needed to transport to battle at Burick Lake."_

She shifts her grip on the egg-laden tarp she carries with her hind legs and peers down at Belnarth, clutched in her front talons. _"The Royals send a message that all dragons are needed at a battle at Burick Lake."_

Belnarth turns his face, flush from the brisk wind, up toward her and shouts, "We cannot very well go into battle with the last of this clutch. Make haste and we can at least get them into the chamber. We can return to place them in stasis."

She nods and tucks her wings to allow passage into the crystal cavern. A few wing strokes and she deposits the eggs and lands beside the steaming pool. _"Let us place them near the others, to prevent any creature finding them until we return."_

She lowers Belnarth to the ground and he unfastens his flying tether and moves beside the eggs. He places a hand upon them and disappears.

Estrola allows the peace and beauty of the cavern to seep into her. One claw scrapes across the pebbled surface of the cavern as she waits. Belnarth will remove them from their tarp to make sure none tumble and get damaged while they are gone.

This summons. It could well be the final battle. She slides forward to peer at her reflection in the still pool. Her battle-ravaged face and body attest to the many confrontations she has participated in against the Volastoque. She studies her reflection.

Her scarred, battered visage shows a true mirror of herself. She is weary, her soul aches for peace. Yes, this path of the Lady will give dragonkind and the Palmir People a chance. And it will give her a chance to be at rest.

She stirs as Belnarth emerges from behind the falls.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his voice solemn.

" _Yes."_ She shifts to take him in her forearms. As he fastens his flying tether she gently rubs her cheek alongside his body. _"May the Lady be kind and we stay together."_

"My dear, I already hold you in my heart. We will always be together." He reaches up and pats her cheek, then transports them into battle.

# Chapter 29

Geramn thrusts his hand through his hair and shoves it back from his eyes. The apprentice Healers mill in ever-increasing agitation before him.

Where could those transport Shaman be? He turns once more to check the cavern entrance. No Shaman are in sight. By the Lady, they need to leave. The sooner they get to Burick Lake Caverns, the sooner he can set up a triage area and organize everything to receive wounded.

Once more, his eyes drop to the satchels and bundles of supplies. He kneels to open one.

"Nor Geramn, I have double-checked, everything you requested is there."

Geramn's eyes dart to young Elish. "I am sure that is true. I just cannot help checking once again."

"I would be happy to go through them one more time for you."

"No, Elish, it is not necessary. It is more that I seek something to keep my mind busy until we can get there."

"You still get nervous?" Elish's smile is a bit shaky as he glances up from beneath a shock of dark hair.

About to respond in the negative, Geramn notes the beads of perspiration on Elish's forehead. Nervous sweat, for it is far too chill for the temperatures to bring sweat to a man, or boy's brow.

He stands and lays his hand upon the lad's shoulder and squeezes gently. "Of course." He forces a grin. "It is all this waiting, once we can get busy, it will pass."

Elish nods, wiping his palms on the front of his knees. "That is good to know."

"You will do fine, lad."

"I hope so." Elish's eyes cut behind Geramn and he points with his chin. "They are here."

Geramn turns to see four Shaman bustling out of the cavern entrance; he meets them halfway to the gathered apprentices. "Greetings, I am Healer Geramn," he says and points to the woman with the apprentices. "That is Healer Derness. I will transport with the first group to the actual battle site; we need you to transport Healer Derness and the rest of the apprentices to the cavern at Burick Lake, and stay with them until they can locate and be transported at the location set up there to receive injuries."

"I am sorry, Healer Geramn." A tall, skinny Shaman with a scraggly beard steps forward. "Our instructions are to take all of you to Burick Lake Cavern."

"No, that is ridicules. We need to be close, some injuries require immediate treatment." He gestures to the satchels. "We will set up a triage area as close to the battle as possible."

The skinny Shaman glances over his shoulder to the other three Shaman, all of whom shake their heads slowly. He shrugs when he looks back at Geramn. "I have to follow what we have been told. Your whole group will be taken to Burick Lake Cavern."

Geramn bites his lip, then turns and gestures where Healer Derness stands. "Fine, go ahead and take Healer Derness and her groups, I will find Shaman Hern and get this straightened out."

The Shaman shakes his head. "Shaman Hern has already left."

Geramn's eyes widen in surprise. "Hern went to battle?"

"We transported him and a large group of Shaman to a small valley just north of Burick Lake Cavern."

A hollow chill fills Geramn's middle. "What kind of Shaman?"

"Mostly those of the yellow and red crystals. Look, we have other groups to transport. Seems all the dragons are headed into battle, along with all of the Shaman of the blue crystals." The Shaman gestures for the other three Shaman to go to Healer Derness. "I can take you where I was instructed to; perhaps you can get it sorted out from there."

Geramn strides beside the Shaman toward the satchels. "All of the dragons?"

The Shaman's eyes rove the pile of gear and the small group of apprentices. "Well, not the younglings, only those old enough to battle." He waves a hand at the apprentices. "All of you going with Healer Geramn need to stand close together and put a hand on each other."

Geramn moves close and reaches a hand down to lay upon the pile of gear. His mind goes back to his conversation with the leader of the Shaman Council. He focuses on Hern's assurance that the Volastoque would be vanquished, but at great sacrifice. All dragons, the transport Shaman said _all_ the dragons were engaging in this battle.

As they blink into transport, he contemplates: just how _large_ a sacrifice?

~!~

Hern snugs his cloak close against the chill wind. In front of him the shimmer of a red defense shield arcs across the valley. The top of the pulsing shield is well above the height of the crag he stands upon. Yes, that will do fine.

He waves to signal for the Shaman of the red crystals to allow the field to dissipate. It will not do for them to diminish their energy by holding the shield before necessary. The shield dissipates and Hern calls an apprentice of the red crystal to him. The lad rushes to his side, eyes wide and cheeks flush from the brisk breeze.

"Advise them to remain at their posts, it will not be long before they shall need to raise the shield and hold it at my signal."

"Yes, Nor." The lad tugs on his forelock and darts away on his mission.

At his gesture, a transport Shaman strides up the slope to where Hern stands. "Take me to the gathered Shaman of the yellow crystal."

The man nods and places his hand upon Hern's arm. A breath later they stand at the bottom of the valley. Thirty-two Shaman of the yellow crystal huddle about three small fires. Hern nods thanks to the transport Shaman and shuffles forward to warm his hands over the flames of the closest fire.

His gaze travels across the assembled Shaman. He is the eldest, by far. Most gathered are in their thirtieth winter or there about. Men and women with families at home, most with children. Children of the age when they are just setting out into the world of adult responsibility and in need of their parents' guidance.

The quiet chatter of the assembled Shaman wanes as one by one they turn to face Hern. Silence fills the small clearing where they stand. The only sounds, that of the wind and the crackle of the fire.

His eyes sweep across the faces turned to him. The fire casts flickering light across them, making them appear to fade in and out of view in the evening dusk.

Dread clenches his heart. Have they done everything to make this work? All prophecies are vague in the details, and details can be very important sometimes. What have they missed? He shoves the rising unease away and focuses on the pending need. They have done what they can; the Lady will guide them.

"My friends." He clears his throat then continues. "I know you have questions as to why we gather here. A short distance north, a tremendous covey of Volastoque engage the dragons who defend our people." He pauses a moment to allow the spattering of mumbling to subside.

"We are here at the Lady's guidance, to purge the Palmir People of the threat of these creatures."

Once again those gathered break into chatter, this time louder and more exuberant.

Hern raises his hands, asking for quiet. "Please, there is more."

He looks around at the excited faces. "The Lady has shown a specific path that will lead to the survival of the Palmir People. We of the yellow crystals have the power to impel others to do as we suggest. We must use this Lady-given power to ensure _all_ the Volastoques, _and_ the dragons, are brought to this valley. I am sure you notice the red field arcing above the valley a short moment ago. This will enable us to contain the battle to this valley. Trapping the creatures and giving us the chance to kill them all."

"But, Shaman Hern," interrupts a thin, wiry woman, "does that not mean we will be trapped in here with them?"

Hern nods. "Yes, the field would block our abilities and therefore we must operate from within the area that the defense shield contains."

Her grey eyes narrow and she shakes her head. "What protects us if we are in here with them?"

Hern gestures to the Shaman of the blue crystals who are scattered across the valley. "They will use their powers to fight with the dragons and to defend us as they can."

She pales. "Many of us will not survive."

Hern keeps his voice calm, not letting the weight of their soon-to-be made sacrifice sap his resolve. "The Lady's guiding hand shows this as a final battle to rid the Palmir People of this plague from the north." He cannot help the bitterness entering his voice as inward-pointing knives of his knowledge, that they all will die, pierces him. "I stand beside you, secure in the Lady's promise those who sacrifice their lives today do so with Her assurance it secures the future of the Palmir People and the dragons."

He forces a reassuring smile for the woman. "I know, the yellow-crystal Shaman are not accustomed to being at the scenes of the battle. Usually our powers are not needed at the conflicts. Today we ask no less of ourselves than we asked of our brethren of the other crystals and our dragons for many winters."

Her slow nod of acceptance does not dissipate shadows of fear in her grey eyes.

Hern turns his attention to the other Shaman gathered as they draw closer to the fire he stands beside. "I know we can fulfill the prophecy and stand in defiance of these creatures, together. Stand proud to protect the Palmir People and when you meet the Lady of the Mist, you can know that no matter what rose against you, you stood and stared it in the eye and kept faith with Her guiding hand."

The Shaman around him nod and their eyes harden in resolve. Yes, they needed to hear that, and perhaps he did too. Hern details the need to take control of all dragons and the Volastoque and summon them to this valley. One by one, they nod their understanding and step away, clutching their yellow crystals and sending out their power to compel the dragons and Volastoque.

Hern takes his own crystal into a trembling hand. Whispering a heartfelt prayer to the Lady, he delves into its depth and sends forth his own summons.

~!~

Yalkin's wings jerk in mid-flight when the summons reaches him. Astonishment sweeps over him, even though he expected this summons. The compulsion to obey is strong. Never in his over two-hundred winters has anything seemed so obligatory. His wings resume their steady rhythm as he sweeps in an arc that will take him toward the valley. Around him, the covey of dragons that had been headed to the original battle location changes its direction also.

So, it has reached them all.

He turns his head to the right where Niwah flies. The green dragon nods, his face stoic and a bit pensive. Niwah's private Mindspeak reaches him on a tightly controlled sending. _"Thou should evade this summons, those eggs will need thy wisdom to survive in this new age dawning."_

" _No,"_ he answers, his Mindspeak held just as tightly aimed to only Niwah as recipient, _"I still agree with the need to follow the precept shown by the prophecy."_ He studies the other dragons around him, some obviously trying to escape the compulsion, their flight erratic and smoke puffing from their nostrils in agitation. _"Moreover, as thou can see, much younger and stronger dragons than I do not seem to be able to ignore this summons."_

His Mindspeak open, to broadcast to all, he sends, _"Do not resist. This is a summons agreed upon by the dragon council. We are called to the final battle. The Lady has shown in prophecy the means to annihilate the Volastoque once and for all."_

The dragons cease their struggles and fly smoothly toward the valley _. "We shall rid this plague from dragonkind, and our allies the Palmir People. Know that I have never been so proud of all of ye."_

They clear a ridge and the mountains sprawl out before them. From the northeast a horde of Volastoque, with dragons scattered in their midst, rush like a wave over the mountains. His breath catches for a moment when he sees the vast numbers of the creatures headed toward the valley.

By the Lady, there are so damn many! Many dragons within the onrushing wave are obviously injured, as their flight is erratic and in many cases barely clearing the ridgeline. The hundreds of dragons around him bugle challenges to the oncoming creatures.

Screeches of frustration soon follow, as the dictates of the summons will not allow them to alter course to intercept the oncoming Volastoque. Once again, he sends a message out that they not struggle against the summons.

His group reaches the valley first; he can see the Shaman of the blue crystals lining the northeast ridges of the valley as he loops into a gentle circle. The oncoming Volastoque are soon within range of their blue beams and Yalkin grimaces in satisfaction as they begin to blast the arriving creatures.

Many of the battered dragons within the oncoming wave flutter groundward as they arrive. He can see they have sustained injuries. He takes a deep breath and ignites his battle flames. Adrenalin rush fills him and he attacks, determined to do his part to eradicate the loathsome creatures.

# Chapter 30

Maru glides close beside Aura, his heart aching at the way she struggles to maintain flight. His mind whirls, trying to understand. What is this compulsion that seized him, and Aura, to cease battle and fly along with these creatures? Ahead, the blue of the defense Shaman's rays streak toward the leading Volastoque and they crumple groundward. An ambush!

" _Aura, my love, thou must only make it a bit farther. The call comes from our Shaman allies. Look! Reinforcements are just over the next rise. We have a chance against this horde!"_

Aura's Mindspeak is barely above a whisper when she replies, _"Thank the Lady. I do not think I can make it much farther."_

Together, they clear the last ridge and, as the compulsion fades, Aura flutters to the ground. Maru turns and engages with the Volastoque closest to him. The creature, still under the compulsion, is dispatched quickly. Maru sends it crashing into the crags below and turns his battle flames on another.

The battle challenges of dragons fill the air as reinforcements enter the fray from across the valley. Maru maintains a position slightly to the north and above Aura.

Rejack, his sides smeared with blood, darts in to Maru's left. _"I shall help thee keep them off Aura."_

" _My thanks, Rejack."_ Maru manages to engulf two of the creatures in one blast as they release from the summons. He turns his gaze upon the bronze. _"My friend, thy brother's mate fell in battle shortly before the summons."_

Rejack's eyes shadow with sorrow, then his head jerks high and rage seethes from the bronze dragon. _"She fought for her eggs' future. Let us see that they have one, by killing as many as these foul beasts as we may, before we join Kilita on her journey to the Lady."_

Aura's voice, weak and barely above a whisper in his mind, comes to Maru. _"My love, there are so many. If we do not stop them here, I fear all is lost."_

Maru picks out his next target among the horde. His mate is correct. Though he and Rejack, along with the other dragons and the defense Shamans with their blue rays, are slaughtering the beasts by the score, the wave of creatures seems never ending. And many escape the initial assault as they are released from the summons. Behind him he can see numerous Volastoque deploy in battle.

His wings ache, exhaustion setting in to slow his efforts, when the last of the creatures arrive. Rejack turns and delves into the teeming swarm that engages over the valley. A sharp, static crackle ripples across the sky. A screech of astonishment rips from Maru's throat when a red-tinged field arcs across the enormous battlefield. It encases them within a pulsing, translucent dome.

Close-by, a Volastoque, fleeing from Rejack, smashes into the barrier. Its wail pierces the air as it flails in agony. The sound cuts off abruptly as Rejack's flame blasts and kills the creature. Understanding dawns on Maru. They, and the creatures, are sealed in. The barrier will contain the creatures and dragons until one or the other of the forces is annihilated.

~!~

_" What do you mean? How can every transport Shaman be gone?" Geramn shakes his head, thrusting his hand toward the assembled Healers and Healer apprentices. "We have to be taken to the battle grounds, or as close as possible. Every moment wasted could cost the life of a dragon or Shaman injured in the battle."_

Headman Kiltem's brow furrows above his brown eyes. "I only know they are no longer here. All were needed, I suppose."

Geramn takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. "Yes, they are needed here! How can we make contact to get one or more here to transport us where we need to be?"

Kiltem's bald head shakes. "I do not know. Perhaps a few of you can be taken by the dragons?"

Geramn practically bites his tongue to keep from screaming at the Headman. "Nor Kiltem, do you see _any_ dragons?"

The elder's bald head swivels on his long neck as he peers around. "No, that is strange. I do not. Where have our sentry dragons gotten off to?"

"By the Lady! I have been trying to tell you for over an hour that the dragons and the Shaman are all gone." Geramn presses a finger and his thumb upon his eyelids. He takes a deep breath, then counts to ten, slowly exhaling. "Fine. Which way did the Shaman and dragons go? Which way to the battle field?"

Kiltem points a gnarled hand across the valley, well past the lake, indicating a pass. "They are in that general direction. I know not exactly where."

"You have horses we can use?"

"Of course, I will see some are sent." Kiltem turns and moves slowly across the cobblestone courtyard to the Burick Lake Cavern entrance.

Geramn tries to release his frustration and hurries to the other Healers. "Healer Derness."

Derness looks up from a table she arranges with medical supplies. "Yes, Nor Geramn?"

"I shall take three Healers and six apprentices. We are going to see if we can locate the battlegrounds." He waves a hand across the lake. "Headman Kiltem was not much help, but he did say the dragons left in that direction."

Derness straightens and, pressing her hand to the small of her back, she grimaces. She stretches, and then pushes her long black hair back from her eyes. "How will you find them?"

Geramn gives her a sad smile. "By the cries of pain and the clamor of battle."

Her brown eyes widen and she covers her mouth with one hand.

Geramn shakes his head. "My apologies. I speak too bluntly to one who has not experienced battlefields before."

"No, no it is fine." Derness drops her hand to lay it upon a pile of supplies. "What do you want me to do?"

"Just as you have been. Prepare for incoming causalities. We will triage them in the field and have them transported to you." Geramn turns at a clatter of feet behind him.

"Healer Geramn." Elish runs up, slightly out of breath. "There is an injured transport Shaman in the Healer's chamber in the cavern. Perhaps he can help?"

Geramn smiles at the lad. "Good thinking, Elish." He turns back to Derness. "When the horses arrive, see supplies are loaded and get the Healers and apprentices that will accompany me ready."

She nods and Geramn moves rapidly toward the cavern entrance, Elish jogging along beside him.

"Nor Geramn, you will take me with you, will you not?"

Geramn glances at the earnest expression on Elish's face and curbs his quick denial. "Lad, it is no place for a youngster."

Elish frowns, his eyes taking on a hard cast. "I am a Healer apprentice; you said you shall take six apprentices."

"Yes, but the older men."

"Nor Geramn. You yourself have stated my ability is stronger than most of apprentices."

Geramn pauses in the corridor and turns to face the boy. "Yes, your talent is not in question; do not think that, Elish."

"Then I humbly request you treat me as any other apprentice. You need the more talented at the triage site, take me along."

"It is not something I would wish on a young man."

"You did not; it is I who approached you, I who sought to become a Healer."

Geramn turns and continues down the passageway. "You can remain here and work with Healer Derness, she will need all the help she can get to work with the incoming injured. I would not place you in a position of greater risk."

Elish hurries along beside him. "You have said a Healer must accept risk in these trying times."

"I know—"

"Healer Geramn, I risk less than you do. I have no mate, no children, and no parents to mourn my passing."

"Nonsense, you have become like a son to me and Sheina."

"All the more reason I should be with you."

Geramn slows at the arch entrance to the Healers' chamber. "Sheina would never forgive me should you come to harm."

"As if she would be pleased if something happens to you? We can keep an eye on each other, for her."

"Alright, Elish, you may accompany me. May the Lady keep us both from harm." He glances in the chamber. "Where is this injured transport Shaman?"

Elish gestures to the right side of the chamber. "I am told his injury is severe, he may not survive."

Geramn reaches the Shaman's bedside to see the man is barely alive. Undoubtedly a transport error, the lower legs of the man are simply gone, sheared off just above his knees. Geramn kneels beside the bed and takes the man's hand. "Nor, I am sorry to trouble you. However, can you tell me where the dragons go to battle?"

The man opens his eyes and takes a moment to focus on Geramn. "Two valleys past the lake. They have set up the defensive shield Shaman and those with the blue rays there. The Shaman of the yellow crystal should have completed the summons by now."

"Summons?" Geramn gives the hand he holds a gentle squeeze as the injured Shaman begins to drift.

The Shaman's dark eyes jerk open and meet Geramn's gaze. "The summons to bring them all, dragons and beasts." He moans and his eyes flutter closed.

"Why would they do that?" Geramn waits a moment, but it is obvious the man has fallen unconscious. He places the hand gently down on the sleeping platform and takes a moment to pray to the Lady on this Shaman's behalf.

Geramn rises and rushes Elish along and they soon return to the courtyard, where Healer Derness has the horses packed and ready, the Shaman and apprentices who will accompany them standing ready beside the horses.

They mount and, in a clatter of hooves, they are off. The terrain passes in a blur to Geramn, his only focus to arrive in time to be able to save those in need. They clear the ridge of the first valley and rush toward the second. His hands chill on the reins and he takes one hand at a time to cup and blow his breath upon it to warm his fingers. Around him the Healers and apprentices hunch down upon their mounts, their faces stoic in the frosty wind.

As they near the end of the second valley, a red glow fills the late-evening sky. Geramn glances to his left, where the sun sits low on the horizon. By the Lady, what causes that glow? He draws rein and his horse slows to a trot.

He turns in his saddle to address the others, "Steady and slow. We need to approach with caution."

"What is that?" Elish calls from a short distance behind him.

"I know not, so best we keep to some cover as we approach." Geramn surveys the landscape before him. He spots a formation of rock jutting from the ridge upon which they ride. "There, let us take the horses there and approach on foot."

A low crackle fills the air as they approach the rocks. Geramn dismounts and motions for the others to do the same. They secure the horses and step with trepidation around the formation.

~!~

A Volastoque slams to the ground fifty strides away and Shaman Hern staggers when the ground heaves. The enclosed valley reeks of burning flesh while the air reverberates with screeches of the injured and dying, human, dragon, and the beasts alike. He draws a sharp breath through his teeth, air foul from smoke and ripe with noxious odors.

Coughing, Hern peers above where four Volastoque swirl like moths around an orange dragon. They harry the exhausted dragon who rips at them with claws and teeth. Hern flinches as a large, unidentifiable mass of flesh splatters on the ground close by.

The grey-eyed, thin Shaman hides her face in her hands and wails. He moves beside her and places a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she jerks away, her eyes wild. "Get us out of here. By the Lady, we are doomed, where are the transport Shaman?"

"Calm thyself. It will all be over soon," Hern chokes out as he searches the sky enclosed by the defensive field. His body trembles with fatigue, drained from the summoning, yet he forces his leaden legs to climb a small rise adjacent to where the Shaman of the yellow crystal gather.

When he reaches the top of the small hill, he collapses to lean against a large rock and once again peers upward to see how the dragons fare. His shoulders slump and his trembling hands clench against the rough surface of the stone. The numbers of Volastoque are diminished, yet the dragons dwindle to less than a score still in the air doing battle. Fewer and fewer of the defensive Shaman's blue rays cut across the sky, as they too are killed by the creatures. This tide will not turn. He takes a deep, quivering breath and utters his last prayer to the Lady that they have understood Her guidance in the prophecies.

Motioning to a transport Shaman who stands off to one side of the hill, he calls him over. "Go, tell them to send the signal."

The young man's eyes fly wide and he swallows hard, then tugs on his forelock. "Yes, Nor." His face is pale as he transports away.

Hern stumbles down the hill and settles beside the fire. His old bones ache as he extends his hands over the flames. He calms his mind and tries to bring forth memories, but he cannot. Instead he focuses on his hope for the future. A future where Volastoque will plague the Palmir People no more. A soft smile forms on his lips as a sharp buzz fills the air and the dome arching above them brightens, casting crimson light across the entire valley floor.

# Chapter 31

Estrola falters in her flight as the compulsion abruptly shuts off. _"By the Lady, we are late."_

Beneath her Belnarth shouts, "Not a bad thing, was that not the call to this final battle your dragon elders agreed to?"

Estrola peers down at the Shaman she clutches in her fore-talons. _"Thou does not understand, to not fulfill this part of the prophecy may very well lead to the loss of the second part. The part that shows the Volastoque vanquished."_

Her flight clears a ridge and in front of them an immense, pulsing red dome encloses a valley. Bright blue rays and flashes of dragon fire can be seen through the semi-opaque shield. Muffled shrieks and dragons bugling challenges emit from the dome, causing puffs of smoke to furl from her nostrils as Estrola's battle fires ignite.

"Estrola, to your right!" Belnarth yells.

She jerks her head around to see three Volastoque darting toward her. So they are not the only ones late. Two barbs streak across the sky from her attackers; she twists, and manages to evade the barbs. She frantically searches below for a place to drop off Belnarth.

The crags below offer no opportunity to do so; he will have to remain with her through this battle. _"Hold on, if thou can, Belnarth, I shall do what I can to keep thee safe."_

_She brings him snug against her chest and swings to face the oncoming beasts. Her battle flames arc across the encroaching distance and set the nearest beast's wings aflame. Killer Frost blasts across her back from the second beast as the third closes, his claws reaching for her wings._

_She writhes in the air, desperate to evade the Volastoque reaching for her wings. Pain slashes across her right wing as the beast rakes his claws across the tips. Her breath hisses through her teeth as she forces the damaged wing downward in a hard thrust to roll away from the creature._

_The beast screams in rage, its claws scrambling along her scales as it tries to grasp her wing. It manages to snag a tenuous grip on her hind leg, its serrated teeth shredding flesh. Estrola jerks the limb tight against her body and her long neck swings around. She manages to bite the beast, her teeth puncturing through its neck. She shakes her head, ripping the creature free from her leg._

_Belnarth shrieks as the Volastoque slams against him when she tears it free._

_No sooner has she flung the creature from her, than the last remaining beast darts in. It bites her at the base of her skull, gnashing its serrated teeth to penetrate deeply. Blood pours down her neck and smears across her eyes as she thrashes, trying to break free._

_A resounding pop and searing pain, and she is free._

_Estrola labors to remain airborne as she draws in a deep breath. She searches the sky around them. There, the beast is below her to the left. Her battle flames surge with a harsh exhale and she pours the flames across the Volastoque._

_The beast's death wail reverberates in her ears, and still she does not stop the flames. Only when it has crashed to the ground, a smoldering, shapeless mass, does she allow her battle flames to extinguish._

_Dizzy, barely able to see for the blood in her eyes, she peers around to make sure there are no more Volastoque. The skies around the shimmering dome are empty, except for a few sparse clouds._

_"Belnarth."_ _Estrola pants and slowly lifts the Shaman to eye level._ _"Belnarth, can thou hear me?"_

_Belnarth dangles, apparently lifeless in her left fore-talon. A sob wretches from her throat. She reaches with her right talon and eases his head into a more upright position._ _"Belnarth. Oh, by the Lady, please... Please, Belnarth."_

_" Stop, Estrola, for I cannot bear to hear you cry." Belnarth's right eye opens and he weakly lifts a hand to pat her talon. "How bad are you hurt?"_

_"I cannot fly much farther, and I am afraid to land here. I am not sure more of those creatures will yet show up."_

_" Land," Belnarth forces out between moans of pain. "I shall transport us to the Healers."_

_"Thou should indeed transport us. But to the cavern where we left the eggs."_

_" No, Estrola, we will not survive if we do not get in front of a Healer soon."_

_Estrola's heart melts as she gazes into his eyes._ _"We are not supposed to."_

_" I will not listen to this foolish plan to sacrifice all for a potential future."_

_"My dear friend. We took a vow and thy leaders and mine have chosen this course. Please. Please take us where we can place those last eggs in stasis. Our lives are already forfeit. Those eggs need not be."_

_Belnarth raises his hand and rubs across his face. He peers up at her with his one good eye; the right is swollen closed. "Both my legs are broken. I am not sure what else is busted up inside me." A wan smile crosses his face. His voice is edgy and harsh with pain. "And you look like a slaughterhouse, there is so much blood." His hand drops to pat the talon that grasps him. "I suppose neither of us are real candidates for the Healers, anyway." His words become soft and filled with emotion. "Very well, my dear, to the cavern it is."_

_A moment of pitch black, cold. Then they are above the cavern where they left the eggs. Estrola lands besides the narrow opening and stumbles to the pile of stones she left nearby earlier. Careful not to disturb Belnarth any more than necessary, she collapses the pile. Dust and debris fill the air as the boulders fall, blocking the entrance. She staggers back, surveying the results. Yes, it will do, the opening is no longer evident._

_"Can thou transport us as close to where we left the last batch of eggs as possible?"_

_Belnarth does not answer, but in the next breath they stand in the warm cavern beside the pile of eggs. Carefully she places Belnarth on the stone floor and, her body and head awash with searing pain, she arranges the final eggs upon the warm sand._

_By the time the final egg is in place, she quivers from the effort and breathes in pants. She turns to see Belnarth, his legs sprawled at an impossible angle, holding his staff before him. His face haggard in a voice only just above a whisper, he says, "Come, rest beside me, Estrola. I will engage the stasis."_

_Her wing-tips drag across the warm stone floor as she steps around Belnarth and eases herself to lie beside him. The chamber echoes with his chant as a soft glow emits from the crystal in the head of his staff. It only takes a moment, and the stasis is set. The air of the chamber pulses with static energy from the spell._

_Belnarth grasps the length of his staff with both hands and with a crack, it snaps in two. His movements jerky, he places the shaft where it forms a V in front of him. Gasping, he leans back against Estrola's side. "There. The eggs are in stasis. We have fulfilled our obligations."_

_"Why did thou break thy staff?"_

_" Because I know I am not as noble as you. In my weakened condition, I cannot transport us without the aid of my staff." He twists his head up to meet her eyes. "The only way to ensure I do not shatter our vows was to break it. We shall remain here together."_

_She rests her head on the ground, every inch of her body screaming with pain._ _"I am proud to have thee as my bonding mate."_

_" And I you."_

_The only sounds are that of their ragged breaths. Soon, the chamber is silent._

~!~

Geramn gasps. A red, pulsing dome arcs across the valley still some distance from him. He scans the sky surrounding the dome, but can see no dragons, no Shaman, no Volastoque. The flash of dragon fire within the dome tells him where they are. Inside.

But why?

A high pitch, static hum fills the air, the sound becoming louder and higher in pitch by the moment. He turns to Elish and the others as they round the rock formation. "It must be like the camouflage field, only somehow it contains them."

Elish, his mouth sagging open, comes to stand beside Geramn. "This must be the defensive field that Shaman spoke of."

Geramn nods, then turns back to study the dome. The field pulsates, reminding Geramn of a beating heart as it constricts and expands, sending waves of various shades of red across the surface. The static crackle rises to a volume that hurts his ears when the red of the field deepens and begins to constrict. "Take cover. I do not know what is happening, but I think it would be best—"

A thunderous WOOSH and the air about them rushes toward the now rapidly shrinking dome. Geramn grabs Elish's arm and propels him behind the rocks. Dirt and debris, borne on the strong wind, peppers his skin as he crouches down beside Elish. He presses the boy close against the rock, trying to shield him with his body.

BOOM.

The earth beneath their feet jolts from the explosion and Geramn is thrown to the ground. His heart hammering in his ears, Geramn crawls toward Elish. Clutching the boy to him as they both tremble in shock. Stunned, Geramn opens his eyes and sees airborne rubble falling around them. Forcing himself to his feet, he drags Elish back to the rocks and they press as close to the rough surface as possible.

The sharp tang of blood fills his nostrils as he prays to the Lady, and tries to stay as close to the rock's surfaces as possible.

Finally, the sounds stop and he spits the blood from his bitten tongue upon the ground, risks taking a step away from the rocks, and looks around. Unidentifiable bloody, burnt masses, shorn-off trees, and huge rocks dot the surrounding landscape. Smaller objects, scattered like flotsam on a storm-tossed sea, he identifies as body parts, those of dragon, beast, and human alike.

Geramn swallows against the bile filling his throat as he surveys the wreckage. A low moan brings his attention back to his immediate surroundings. Elish staggers to his feet, his hand clutching his arm; blood seeps from between his fingers in a dark ooze. Geramn hurries to the lad and examines him. The cut is deep, but not life threatening.

"Is anyone else injured?"

"Here, Healer Geramn, Geralt is unconscious and has a severe cut to his abdomen."

Geramn gestures to the experienced Healers in the group. "Quickly see to our injured. We must render aid to those in the valley." He helps Elish to sit on the cold ground and tears away the sleeve of his tunic to expose the injury.

Elish turns to stare at the smoldering pit that moments ago was a valley. "Nor Geramn. You do not really think anyone survived in that?"

Geramn keeps his eyes on the cut in the lad's arm as he replies, "I hope so." He reaches above the injury, and using a piece of cloth torn from the sleeve, ties a tourniquet. "However, honestly I cannot see how anything survived that blast." He elevates the arm and motions for Elish to keep it upright. "I will return in a moment; I am going to fetch our supplies so I may clean this wound."

He makes the short trips to their horses. One, a bright bay, lies dead on the ground, a piece of tree limb embedded in its side. Two are missing but he is relieved some of them still remain where they had left them. He soothes the nervous mounts and unlashes the satchels with supplies. He moves slower as he returns, his eyes drawn to the smoldering valley. How many? How many were lost in the explosion?

# Chapter 32-Epilogue

Three winters, three moons, and four sunrises. Geramn shakes his head. How long it will be before he does not keep count each sunrise of the time passed since the slaughter in that valley? He pulls a tie-down snug across the canvas covering the wagon. The strong spring breeze is a bit cool, but it sure beats the stuffy interior of the cavern.

They are amongst the first humans to leave.

Fear, and perhaps caution, kept the Palmir People in their caverns, even though not a single Volastoque has been spotted since that fateful day. Geramn still does not know if he accepts the sacrifice of all the Shaman and dragons was necessary to secure their freedom from the Volastoque.

It took he and Elish, along with the Healers who wished to return to Kitloch, two moons to make their way back without transport Shaman. The trip, made as winter settled deep upon the land, was difficult to say the least.

However, for him, the hardest part is accepting the loss. That, he has not fully accomplished even now. Oh, it was a bit easier once the Mystics explained that prophecies showed this as the only path in which the Palmir People survived. Yet, the dragons... the Mystics said eggs were put in stasis, yet no one knows where. And the only surviving dragons are male.

Only four sunrises ago the last of those left the Palmir People's caverns, with their bonding mates, to search for others of their kind across the vast oceans. No one knew what lay across those immense bodies of water. He prayed they found land before they too died in an unforgiving sea. Dragons are not good swimmers.

A giggle and an indignant shout draw his gaze to the cavern entrance. Pearlitta, her face flushed and her eyes bright with mischief, comes pelting out with Elish fast on her heels. Elish slows to a dignified walk as he spots Geramn, but Pearlitta rushes onward until she reaches him, throwing herself into his arms.

"Sheina says she is ready to bring up the babes, if the wagons are loaded?"

Geramn kisses her cheek, then sets her upon her feet. "Yes, go give her a hand. With the new babe she will probably need help with Reika." Pearlitta scampers off, keeping a wide berth of Elish as she passes him. "Oh, and tell the boys to get the goats started down the road, we will catch up with them," he shouts before she enters the cavern door.

She waves a hand to indicate she heard him and disappears into the cavern.

"How many are going?" Elish asks as he arrives, his gaze running across the gathered wagons.

"Thirty-three families."

Elish emits a low whistle and grins. "Did you relent and allow a Mystic to come along?"

"Yes, but that does not mean I have any more faith in their prophecies than before."

"Sure you do, I saw the grin on your face when they told of the Lady sending the Dragon Souls back."

"That does not mean I believe, it means I hope." Geramn pats the young man on the back, once again trying to remind himself that Elish is no longer a youngster. "It is nice to think that one day, even if it is a long time off, those dragons who gave their lives willingly to save our people will live again."

Elish grins and climbs up onto the wagon seat, taking the reins. "I will move this wagon out of the way so you can pull the one for Sheina and the babes closer to the entrance." Clucking to the horses, he starts them down the road apiece.

Geramn looks up and down the line of wagons. Yes, this is a fine group to start over with. He lifts his gaze to the clear blue sky. And yes, he does believe that one day there will be dragons in the sky again.

The End

Page to end to see preview of Dragon Soul – Book 1 – Dragons in the Mist
Characters

Aura – Mahogany dragon with golden eyes. Mate to Maru and dama of Falcop.

Blanche – Mate to Shaman Geramn with blonde hair and blue eyes. Has two sons with Jadrun, Montello and Herlan.

Bren \- Eight winters old son of Healer Geramn and Sheina.

Cida – Woman Shaman Jadrun found after Volastoque attack on caravan. Has brown hair with blue eyes. Mate to Fellan

Healer Derness – Female Healer with brown eyes and long black hair. She helps Geramn train the apprentice Healers.

Elish – Twelve winters old orphan. Stout lad with brown hair, green eyes. He is from Prelach, where Geramn's sister and her family lived. Elish has an unsatiable desire to become a Healer.

Estrola \- Midnight-blue dragon with green eyes. Member of the Dragon Council and bonded to Shaman Belnarth.

Falcop \- Bright green-colored son of Maru and Aura, he was weak and dying when Maru returns from Taloxville. Becomes Bonding Mate to Montello.

Faille – Female dragon, leader of escort covey lost in battles

Healer Frandem – Young male Healer with stubble on his chin and bushy eyebrows. He works with Geramn at Taloxville and with training apprentice Healers.

Garyl \- Scarlet-colored son of Maru and Aura. He is the smallest and most inquisitive of their hatchlings. He died while Maru was at Taloxville.

Mystic Gelia – Mystic on the council that leads the Palmir People. She pushes for Hern to compel the dragons and Shaman on the path the Lady has shown in visions.

Healer Geramn \- Healer with black and hair sky-blue eyes. Geramn healed Maru at Taloxville, then again after Maru's battle defending his and Aura's lair. Geramn's mate is Sheina. They have two boys, Jiles and Bren, and one daughter, Reila. Friend to Shaman Jadrun and befriends Elish, taking him under his wing as an apprentice Healer.

Helthan – Brown male dragon who led funeral song.

Herlan – Son of Blanche and Healer Geramn who is killed by Volastoque attack.

Shaman Hern – Shaman in charge at Kitloch. Hern has deep blue eyes, gnarled features and slight form. Mentor to Jadrun.

Shaman Jadrun – Transport Shaman , 40 winters old, Jadrun is tall with black hair and green eyes. Had two sons with his mate Blanche. Montello and Herlan.

Jiles \- Eight winters old son of Healer Geramn and Sheina. Jiles is a chubby replica of Geramn, from his black hair and sky-blue eyes to the same broad, flat cheekbones.

Kaleen - Brown eyes, black hair – young man who shows ability to be a Healer.

Kilita – Emerald-green dragon, with golden eyes. Her lair lay in the foothills behind Maru's and Aura's. Her mate, Timac, fell in the defense of Taloxville. Daughter of Gernal and Oshaln

Headman Kiltem – Leader at the caverns at Burick Lake – thin silver hair, brown eyes.

Megrath\- she is a young red dragon, only this moon entered into the battles

Mucal – Blue male dragon – red eyes that helped the hurt brown hatchling.

Montello – Son of Shaman Jadrun. Blond with brown eyes and fifteen winters old– his dead twin is Herlan. Montello becomes Bonding Mate to Falcop.

Niwah – Member of dragon council. Deep green dragon with golden eyes of four hundred fifty winters.

Pearlitta – Daughter of Shaman Belnarth, blue eyes, brown hair, thirteen winters old, looks younger.

Phocaea - Orange female dragon with green eyes. Leader of one of the battle covies.

Rejack \- brother Timac. Huge Bronze with golden eyes. Rejack leads a battle covey.

Rekia – One winter old daughter of Blanche and Healer Geramn. Brown eyes and blonde hair.

Sheina – Mate to Healer Geramn. They have two boys, Jiles and Bren, and one daughter, Rekia.

Tamille \- the eldest woman at the Kitloch Caverns. She is a cook.

Tecla – Mate of Fancur and Healer's Geramn's sister.

Shaman Tera – Transport Shaman.

Tioner – Orange male sentry dragon at Kitloch.

Timac - Mate to Kilita who fell in the defense of Taloxville. Son of Yegrall and Helrnal.

Trella \- Yellow with green eyes female dragon. Trella is young and inexperienced in battle. She is chosen by the dragon council as one of the females to guarantee the survival of the species.

Turmac \- Young man at Kitloch, aide to Shaman Hern.

Yalkin \- Ancient, over six hundred winters old, black dragon with red eyes. Leader of the Dragon Council. He is the council leader who instigated the alliance with the humans when the Volastoque attacks started.

Dragon Soul

An eerie screech blasts across the foothills. Jalkor shades his eyes and points to the west. "Look, Thol, dragons!"

Thousands of scales flashing in the dying twilight make each dragon appear aflame. Sharp, iridescent gem colors of emerald, onyx, ruby and sapphire highlight their massive wings and powerful bodies. Picking up their pace, the youths drive their goats down steep slopes toward nightfall pens. Jalkor's arms prickle with gooseflesh and a shiver runs down his spine. He flips his uncombed blond hair back and keeps a watchful eye on the four serpentine forms gliding through the frosty air that shrouds their valley.

"Hurry, Thol. They begin to descend," Jalkor yells over his shoulder as he races close behind the herd.

Thol's gaze locks on the soaring dragons. They dip lower and his chapped face reddens to burgundy as his arms pump in rapid counter-rhythm to his long strides. His open cloak catches the brisk wind, and it sails behind him like a blue flag. Thol's hat slips over his eyes and he trips over an exposed root. Jalkor grunts in exasperation, jerking to a stop. He watches Thol's arms pinwheel in a struggle to keep his balance. Thol's long legs tangle and he sprawls face-first across grass that is turning brown and crisp from the onset of autumn.

"Are you hurt?" Jalkor asks while his gaze shifts between Thol and the dragons approaching overhead.

"Neah." Thol untangles his lanky frame and scrambles to his feet. He brushes, without effect, at fresh soil stains on his weathered trousers. He crams his crumpled, blue hat on his head and they continue to dash downhill, only to come up short at the thrum of beating wings directly above.

Jalkor feels his heart beating a staccato rhythm against his ribs as he squints into the vivid purple sky. The lead dragon's emerald-green form plummets past, his golden eyes raking across the shepherds and their goats. The red and blue stream behind him in rapid succession. The three fly so low, the spicy scent of dragon sends the goats fleeing downhill in terror. The largest, a black-bodied giant with silver wings, brings up the rear. His blood-red eyes scorch across the valley as he blasts by, the grass bowing in the breeze he creates. The foursome glides to land with grace in the lower fields.

A whoosh of exhaled breath fills the air when Jalkor and Thol shake off their daze and remember to breathe. He and Thol exchange sheepish grins and then, with a loud whoop, they rush on toward the village. Thol manages to keep his feet underneath him and his body upright as they drive their herd across the last rolling incline.

The boys arrive in the lower field where four dragons shimmer into Transformation. Thol and Jalkor watch in awe, foolish grins plastering their faces. Magnificent wings furl against their bodies as each dragon morphs and blends into a diminishing form. They resemble large blossoms returning to buds as the human Dragon Hosts replace their dragon identity. Jalkor tries to steady his breathing while the boys maintain a respectful distance, watching the Dragon Hosts make their way across the field to Vedicville.

"Good nightfall to you, young sirs," Hisaran, Head Mentor of emerging Dragon Souls, greets the two when he passes. Hisaran is of medium height—only a bit taller than Jalkor—but carries himself with such confidence and authority, he seems larger. The other three Dragon Hosts nod a greeting as they stride past to the village proper.

"Good nightfall," Jalkor and Thol reply in unison. Each one tugs at the hair over his forehead in respect. Only after the foursome passes do they realize their charges are scattered about the field. They gather their milk goats and hurry them toward pens. It is late. Nextday will be busy and they must get abed.

