Dragon Champion

The man stood, laughing like an imbecile. He bent over, cradling his stomach, sat, and took off his hat to fan himself.



If he’s thinking I’ll spare him out of fear of killing a madman, he’s in for a surprise, Auron thought. If he really has lost his senses, it’s still the kindest thing to do. Then Auron paused—something about the man’s circlet, pulling his hair away from his face, caught his eye. The metalwork was of a style he had seen before. And the laugh had a familiar bray to it.



“Auron,” Naf said in thick Parl. “I’ve not touched the treasure yet, so you have no cause to kill me, ‘Revengerog.’ ”



After Auron washed himself in the pool, he emerged to find Naf extracting a camel, trapped in the fallen tent. The beast was in no mood to be quieted, and Naf beat it into a corner with the flat of his scimitar and tied it securely.



He returned to Auron covered in bites and spit. “That camel put up near as good a fight as you did last fall, drake,” Naf said.



“I hope that is meant to be a compliment. If it is an insult—”



“No, no insult intended. I don’t know dragons, but it’s sad to learn they have no sense of humor.”



“All of a dragon’s senses are sharp. Sight, hearing—”



“Wrak! That’s not what I meant. Men laugh when they encounter the unusual, the ridiculous. The unexpected.” Naf poked his head into a tent, entered it, and came out again with some sacks over his shoulder and a waterskin made out of something the size of a goat.



“I don’t understand,” Auron said. “The unexpected means one should be cautious, not laugh.”



“How do you explain color to the blind? It’s an unexpected ending to a story, perhaps. Here’s an example of what I mean. ‘Two cannibals are sitting by the fire. One says, “I hate my wife’s brother.” So the other one says, “Then try the potatoes.” ’ Do you see?”



Auron stuck out his tongue and tried to smell the humor. “No.”



“True, it’s a poor jest.”



“What were you doing with these wretched elves?”



Naf began to fill the sacks with food. Sides of meat wrapped in paper, flat loaves of bread, a pot of cheese, dried fruit and nuts disappeared into the sacks. “I didn’t know the kind of robbers they were when I joined them. After I split from Hross, I went south to seek a fortune, and word was going around about an attack on the Golden Road. I thought I’d try for the loot, but all they got was a caravan on its way back. We missed the sack.”



“I was there. They didn’t sack the dwarves.”



“I’m happy for the dwarves. They dealt honestly.”



“We were attacked by someone with a strange standard. A figure of a man inside a circle.”



Naf paused. “The Andam were involved? If I’d—”



“Andam?” Auron asked.



“It translates into Parl as ‘true.’ I think they’re lieges of some barbarian king. Hross was disgusted with the dwarves and wanted to go north and join them. That’s one of the reasons we parted.”



“You fear them?”



“They have some unusual beliefs. I don’t mean unusual in the humorous sense, here.”



“They fought well,” Auron said, remembering the horsemen.



“Good thing you won. They don’t take prisoners. Well, women, they take. One of their practices is that the man who fathers the most children is held in high regard. They don’t much care how the babies get started, as long as they do.”



“These waste elves were not kind to their captives.”



“I had nothing to do with that.”



“You did nothing to stop it, either.”



“Why should a drake care? You’d eat them, given the chance.”



Auron snorted. “If I were hungry, and there was no easier meal, yes. But I wouldn’t kill six if one would fill my belly. Nor would I torture them first.”



Naf nodded. “Are you hungry now?”



“I’ve had my fill.”



“I’ll show you something, drake. I’d like to part on better terms than before,” he said, and went to a small tent. He rolled out a wine barrel, still wrapped in cargo netting. He found a mallet and pounded the edge into the top of the barrel. He lifted out the lid and said something in a foreign tongue. A pair of hands wrapped themselves around his neck, and he pulled out a girl-child. Her skin was stained purple with wine, and she squinted in the sun as she trembled in Naf’s arms.



“Auron, this is Hieba. I’ve been watching her since we hit the caravan. I hid her from those bastards this past week. You solved my problem of what to do with her.”



Auron flicked out his tongue. The dark-haired girl smelled of wine. “You will take her out of the desert?”



“No, I’m going to ask you to do that. Some of the elves might work up the courage to come back. They’d certainly follow my trail; I’m not skilled enough to hide it from a waste elf. I’ve got a chance in ten of getting out of the drylands alive. She has better odds with you.”



“Me, look after a human child? I go to the mountains to seek an ancestor.”



“NooMoahk?” Naf said. “He’s long dead. Years, or so I’ve heard.”



“That’s been said before, and those who believed it were wrong. They died for their bad guess.”



The girl babbled something to Naf, but he showed no more signs of understanding than Auron did.



“Is she weaned?” Auron asked. He knew hominid children drank from their mother’s breasts—and not much else.



“She’s four or so, and drinking goat milk. I know no more about children than you, save what I remember from being one.”



“What are you doing with her?”



“I found her hiding under a mule’s hind legs when the caravan was taken. I’m not much more than a mule-tender to the waste elves, so I was able to get her into one of the barrels. She’s old enough to know to keep quiet, anyway.”



“Come with me, then. You can mind the girl, and I’ll keep the elves off,” Auron said.



Naf chuckled. “The waste elves might not believe in the Curse of the Revengerog if they see our tracks leaving this place together. I’ve been with them only a few months, but know they hold to grudges like a dwarf with a nugget.”



Naf set the girl atop Auron’s back. She cried, but so quietly, it made Auron feel for her days in hiding, confined in a barrel. Auron turned his neck to look at her, tears cleaning the wine from the sides of her nose.



“Nula,” she said.



Naf stroked her hair. “I got that anyway. It’s ‘pony’ in one of the eastern tongues. She thinks she’s going on a pony ride.”



“Why do you trust me with her? Why wouldn’t I eat her as an afternoon snack?”



“Because you’re agreeing to take her. There are a lot of legends about dragons among my people. They don’t strike the same terror into us as some other nations of the world. They can be dangerous, but they tell the truth.”



“Even if that is true, I cannot remember making any such promise. What people are yours?”



“We once were counted among the mighty. NooMoakh figures into our sagas, as a matter of fact.”



Auron’s detailed memory supplied a name. “Together with a king named Tindairuss?”



“Yes. Touching that someone else knows our fireside stories.”



The girl began to bang her heels into Auron’s sides.



“Walk her around a little. I’m going to load up my camel.”



“Put something for her to eat in some bags. Waterskins, too. It’ll be days before I get over the mountains. She’ll need blankets, as well.”



“And you thought you couldn’t care for a child.” Naf chuckled, watching her explore Auron’s pebbly skin with little hands. Auron’s skin flushed purple at her touch.



“I’ll take her to the other side of the mountains and find some of her kind. NooMoahk can wait a little longer.”



“Thank you, Auron.” Naf rolled dried meat and fruit into a blanket and fixed it so Hieba could sit on it. “This reminds me of some of the stories of Tindairuss and NooMoahk the Black.”



“Then perhaps you are destined to be a king, as well. That silver you wear about your head is a bit like a crown.”



“My people couldn’t have a king of the old blood even if they wanted one. We’re ruled by the Ghioz now, which is better than being raided by the Ironriders. But it’s hard to better oneself. The Ghioz keep a man in the station of his birth.”



“I wish you luck in bettering yourself, then.”



Auron watched Naf gather food for the camel whistling tunelessly all the while. Finally he nosed out a chest from under the collapsed tent, opened it, extracted a leather pouch, and hung it around his neck. Auron swung the girl on his tail, letting her feet splash in the pool as he did so. The delighted giggles from the child brought back memories of Mother. In all likelihood, this girl had no parents, too. He felt suddenly protective of her, as if she were a hatchling rather than just a human. He rasped the child across the back of her neck with his tongue, and she shrieked and wriggled then babbled to him.