Dragon Strike

“Great Queen. Yes, I do seek another dragon. But we have other matters between us. Years ago a counselor of yours promised me lands in your Dairuss province if I performed a war-service against the Wizard of the Isle of Ice, the Wyrmmaster. This I have done. I come to claim Hischhein’s bounty.”



DharSii looked a little startled at this speech.



“Well done, dragon,” the Queen said. “We are pleased. You come right to business.”



“On which point I will receive satisfaction first.”



“As to your comrade, you’ve met two-thirds of our Drakine retainers. Imfamnia still sulks in the hot springs on the western slopes, nursing her bruises.”



She put a curved speaking trumpet to her lips and pointed the bell behind her.



“Pish, a reign cup, to wash out our mouth of the dust.”



The servant hurried forward with a clay vessel over his shoulder and a thick carved horn cup in his hand. AuRon smelled hot copper and blood.



Which was what the reservoir within the clay and padding contained. It steamed in the cold air as he poured it.



“Hot calf-blood,” she said. “Will you have some, AuRon? An arrival tonguefull is all I could carry, I’m afraid.”



“I prefer mine still inside the meat,” AuRon said.



“Ah, well, yes. We suppose a full stomach in back balances all that wing weight to the front.”



She drank from the fragrant cup. AuRon noticed that it had a little channel in the lip shaped like a bird-neck that allowed her to insert it in the hole in her mask. The blood smelled warm.



“Ourselves, we hate the feeling of a gorged stomach. It makes us entirely too sleepy. Most of the digestive system is devoted to turning ordinary food into blood. We save ourselves the trouble so that we may think more clearly.”



“The Great Queen is scientifically minded,” DharSii observed.



“I’m afraid we have bad news, dragon. The lands Hischhein promised you were put under the supervision of your old friend, whose name has since been stricken from the rolls of Ghioz and become outlaw. They reverted to the Empire. Though as this had nothing to do with you, we will see to it that you are given their value in coin, though timberless grazing-slopes may not bring as much as you would like.”



“That does not sound like justice to what was promised me.”



“I’m afraid our counselor who made that promise has fallen into disfavor. I asked him to make an alliance with the Wyrmmaster, and the fool sent a dwarf to negotiate and instead made an enemy. I asked him to keep the peace on my borders and offer succor to ancient Hypatia, which sadly no longer seems able to control her destiny, to the misery of all, and instead we had war and throngs of impoverished refugees, elf, dwarf, and man. Finally he promised lands of Imperial Title in exchange for your services, dragon.”



“None of this is through fault of mine,” AuRon said.



“We will satisfy your claim. But first, satisfy our curiosity. What does a gray need with coin?”



AuRon bowed, trying to remember how the dwarves used to speak to the Ironrider princes on the plains. “Your majesty is a scholar of dragons?”



“More of an enthusiastic admirer. Are you a good flier?”



“I’ve won time trials, and the longer the distance, the faster I do.”



“Great Queen,” DharSii whispered.



“Great Queen,” AuRon added.



“No scale to weigh you down.”



“You are perceptive, Great Queen.”



“Perhap it’s the lack of scale, but you look starved. We can see your ribs. We shall have food sent to you.”



“Thank you, Great Queen,” the dragons said, together.



The Red Queen laughed. “We should like to hear you sing, like two birds. We shall do you justice, AuRon from the north. Ghioz is always ready for a new friend. Let us forget Hischhein and that rebel Naf the Dome-burner.”



“Perhaps. As long as the debts of Ghioz are not forgotten along with the names.”



The Queen’s mask at the end of the handle spun and spun again, as though she were deciding whether to show the smiling or frowning face. It ended up smiling.



“Look for us on the morrow. Perhaps we can fulfill more than our counselors promised. DharSii, are you back for the season?”



“No, Great Queen. I came only to accompany AuRon.”



“Then we wish you a good journey again.”



DharSii thanked her and bowed again.



The Red Queen, business done, turned and ascended to her chariot.



Food arrived, though the Queen gave no sign of having called for it. Blighters brought them each a skinned sheep in a barrow.



“What do you think?” DharSii asked, after they’d eaten.



“Different,” AuRon said, wondering how much honesty he could afford.



“Do not cross her, if you know what’s good for you. She doesn’t forget her friends or her enemies.”



“I am allowed to say no to serving her, I hope.”



“I did,” DharSii said. He looked to the east and took a deep breath. Then he opened his wings.



The expected jump-beat didn’t come. DharSii turned back to AuRon.



“If I have kept things from you, it’s because I heard your name and respect your deeds. I did not want us to be enemies. I hope you understand that once I have given my word, I could no more break it than I could divide myself to fly both north and south.”



“If you’ve brought me here on false—”



“Oh, you’ll have your gold. Fairwinds, AuRon. I hope we meet again.”



With that, he flew away.



Chapter 9



The Copper watched the demen move almost as one from point to point beneath the west tumble—a sort of pile of rocks at the base of the Imperial Rock.



Gigrix, the general of the demen, had “exercised” his troops to keep them from fighting amongst themselves in their idleness. The Copper had taken to watching the exercises with Gigrix when he saw them moving around within their allotted space beneath the loom of the Imperial Rock and took to asking questions—for example, why so many of the evolutions required the soldiers leaping over each other’s backs, the lower helping the upper to vault higher and farther.



Gigrix, clumsy in his Drakine, explained that in tunnel fighting, possession of a cave-ceiling often meant possession of the tunnel.



“An uphole was the only way for escape ye dragons,” Gigrix said. “No dragon spit flame straight up.”



“You’re right there. Nothing burns hotter than your own flame, my old master in the Drakwatch used to say.”



“Demans—he (sic-eek) natural instinct to flee down, into crevice.”



“I would like to see those dragon-snares and arresting ropes you’re so famous for using on dragons in action sometime. We’ve lost too many dragons to such devices.”



“Ye—ye wish to see us—snare dragon? In true—In truth?”



“I’ve seen warfare on the surface, but have only heard reports of tunnel fighting. An exhibition of your prowess would be fascinating. Of course neither side must be hurt in the exercise.”



“Of course!”



“Gigrix, I have a proposition for you. We’re having trouble getting Paskinix to meet so that your release might be negotiated.”



“If ye intend is . . . , demen have honor, sir, as dragons.”



“No, nothing of the sort. I was thinking that perhaps you could choose one or two of your soldiers to send looking for him with a message that I wish to meet, Tyr to King, and settle this conflict. Demen and dragons have enemies enough on the surface without fighting each other down here.”



Gigrix was as difficult to read as a griffaran, between the frog eyes and the sliding headplates and grinding mandibles with probing lips, especially when all chose to work at once. But his spines stiffened at last.



“Done, if ye wish to give the orders. I shall send two.”



Two would be better, the Copper thought. They’ll spend their time talking to each other.



“There’s one other arrangement I’d be happy to offer for the comfort of your warriors,” the Copper said.



“What would that be?”



“Dragons, I know, hate being long away from mates and hatchlings. I suspect it is the same with demen.”



“What is propose?”



“That such of your people”—the Copper was careful to observe Gigrix’s reaction to the phrase your people—“as wish to visit and cheer your warriors may come and live at some intermediate distance where they might make the trip in a day. I’m afraid I can’t allow any of your warriors to leave their area to go visit them, but I will allow free traffic by whatever mates and spawn wish to visit. They could settle at the river ring, as long as they take care not to try to steal any griffaran eggs. What say you to that?”



“I—I give that think.”



“You do that. Evidently there is no hurry. At least Paskinix is of that opinion. Perhaps I’m not offering the right guarantees of his safety. Would you advise me on that?”



“Yes. Yes,” Gigrix said.