Blood of Dragons

A shrill keening turned her eyes upward. Yes. Mercor had caught Sintara. Joined, they circled high above her. She shook her head, tried to clear it of the dragon’s heat that she had experienced so clearly. Time to be practical. Her bow. Had she dropped her bow in her wild flight from Tats? Where? On the other side?



She looked back the way she had come and saw Tats coming at her. He had gone up the hill slightly and now was running back down it in silence. His teeth were gritted in determination. ‘The gully!’ She shrieked the warning at him, but it was too late. In two strides he reached it and flung himself forward in a wild leap.



He couldn’t possibly make it.



But he did.



He hit on his feet, tucked his head down, rolled in a wild somersault and came up on his feet again. His impetus carried him forward and he crashed into her. But as his arms wrapped around her and he carried her to the ground with him, she knew it was no accident. ‘Caught you,’ he said.



The impact had driven the breath from her body. She gasped in air and, ‘Yes,’ she answered. ‘You have. At last.’ She saw his eyes widen. Then, as she took a deeper breath, his mouth covered hers. She closed her eyes, feeling his weight on her, smelling him, pulling him closer. The sun was above them, warming the whole world, and the only sound she heard was the joyous trumpeting of dragons.



EPILOGUE



Generation



Tintaglia awoke in mid-morning. She lifted her head and looked at the sun. Then she rose and stretched and limbered her wings. The same restlessness that had afflicted her for the last ten days filled her again. It grew stronger as the sun rose higher.



She had chosen to sleep high on a rocky ridge on the cliffs behind Kelsingra after her morning kill. She had felt an urgency when she had first awakened, but dismissed it as only hunger. But now, fed, rested and awake, heritage memories were stirring in her. She studied the sun’s position in the sky. Yes.



She smelled him in the waft of his wings on the wind. She turned to watch Kalo circling slowly down to alight beside her. The blue-black drake had grown since she had first encountered him and would continue to grow for all the days of his life. He took two steps toward her and extended his neck, snuffling the air around her. Today. He offered the word and waited for her.



Today, she confirmed. It was time.



IceFyre swept past them. He knew better than to attempt to land near her. Kalo had established that with him in several bloody battles. But the old dragon was within his rights and knew it. ‘Today!’ he trumpeted the word as he overshadowed them briefly.



Downhill of them she saw other dragons lift their heads from where they had been dozing on the rocky cliffs. Far below them, in the city, she knew that the keepers would be pausing in their coming and going, stopping their ant-hill lives to stare up in wonder.



Kalo stared at her, his eyes spinning possessively. Who flies with you? he demanded.



What sort of a drake asks that of a queen? IceFyre mocked him as he swept past again. I am sire of this first generation. To me is what is mine. I travel with her, to the nesting beaches, to watch over the digging of the nest and keep the Others at bay. Have you no memories of this and the proper way of doing things?



Tintaglia considered. She eyed the ragged black dragon as he swept past once more. Kalo had stretched himself tall and partly opened his wings. I have memories, he replied sullenly. I have memories of a time when there would have been a dozen queens on the island, and drakes doing battle for the best nesting sites. Those days are gone. We begin a new time. Perhaps we begin with new ways.



And Kalo will accompany us, she decided. He is young and strong. I will have him fly with me as well.



That is NOT how it is done! IceFyre was outraged. You have no memories at all! Only the sire goes with the queen to the nesting beach to guard her. Other drakes are not to be trusted. He will destroy the nest and trample the eggs.



Kalo stretched his neck and opened his wings wide. He was still not as large as IceFyre, but his wings were unrent, his muscles full and limber. The deep midnight blue of his scaling was now spangled with tiny silver stars. He snapped his wings once and toxins welled to each clawed tip. Do you challenge me for this, old dragon? He swung his gaze to Tintaglia. I will not destroy the nest. There are too few dragons in the world. What do I care if the first clutch you lay are his get? The clutches to follow will be mine, and my offspring will need mates.



You think like humans! IceFyre issued his proclamation in disgust. Were the clutch not mine, I would not care. But I warn you now, youngster. Disturb the nest and the fight will be to the death.



Tintaglia snorted disdainfully. Any male that disturbs my nest will die! No queen needs a drake to make that so.