Dragon Blood (Hurog #2)(22)
The morning of the second day dawned without a sign of the king's men. Tisala tossed an icy handful of creek water over her face, hoping to wake up. While she was wiping her face, several horses cried out a warning - then it sounded as if every animal in the camp went mad.
Feather, she thought. Even if she hadn't seen Ward with his horses, the guards' attitude would have made it plain that Feather was precious to him. The last thing Tisala wanted to do was to explain how she'd let the mare get hurt.
She found Feather at her picket rolling her eyes at the other animals, though not unduly alarmed. The rest of the horses were kicking and fighting as if they were dragon-frighted. Feather'd broken out in a light sweat, but calmed at a few soft words.
The worst disaster averted, Tisala turned to see what had caused the fuss, expecting to see a bear or even one of the great mountain cats.
The blood rushed from her head and she swayed against the mare. Dragon-frighted, indeed. There in the midst of their half-packed tents and scrambling men stood a creature that could only be a dragon.
It was a huge and glittering creature in every shade of blue and violet she'd ever seen. The dark midnight blue on its extremities faded to violet-rose glinting with iridescence like a sea-pearl. The bony structures of its half-furled wings were black and shiny with faint patterns of gold that carried through on the lavender scaled membrane that made up the bulk of the wings. Light purple-blue eyes contrasted the irregular, dark blue scales of its face.
Tosten stood alone in front of it, his fists clenched as he shouted at it. As soon as Tisala realized that everyone else was fighting horses or scattered too far away to help him, she drew her sword, leaving Feather where she was tied. The dragon's attention was on Tosten, so Tisala advanced at a walk. It hadn't done anything yet and she didn't want to incite it.
She'd crossed half the distance between them when she heard what Tosten was saying.
" ... not here!" Hot anger threaded his voice, though she hadn't misread the fear on his face. "No one is supposed to know! It's too dangerous: You know what Ward says. There are a hundred people here - someone will talk. Do you want to be hunted by a thousand want-to-be mages who are after your magic?"
Tisala stopped where she was. This was, it seemed, a private conversation for all that Tosten was shouting at the top of his lungs.
The dragon's head snaked forward with deadly swiftness and Tosten's hair parted from its breath. Ward's brother paled but held his ground.
"I'll ride out to meet you as soon as I find my horse," he said. "Which might take a while, thanks to you. Go away."
The dragon took an enormous breath and huffed it out, twisting its head and glancing at Tisala briefly. Then it heaved itself onto its hind legs and up into the air, vanishing over the edge of a ridge of mountain to the west.
Tosten turned to her with a look on his face that was almost pleading.
Before he said anything, Tisala answered that look. "Hurog means dragon." I've seen a dragon, she thought giddily.
"And when the rest of the world finds out we have one, they'll be camping at Hurog's doorstep waiting for a chance to kill him," said Tosten, running a worried hand through his hair. "Damn it. He knows better than that."
She nodded. "I'd pass out the word that Ward will be unhappy with anyone who tries to seriously pass around this tale if I were you. Not being a Shavigman myself, I never claim to see dragons."
Tosten smiled wearily, and she remembered he'd ridden twice as far as Lord Duraugh and his men.
The runaway horses were caught and rumors flew about what had spooked them. (From what Tisala heard, only a few people had actually seen the dragon - they, like she, had been trying to calm their mounts. Most of them had had significantly more trouble than she'd had.) The cold night with just a hint of frost ensured that everyone was gathered around the small fire where Lord Duraugh's cook was handing out bowls of warm mush.
Tosten cleared his throat and avoided his uncle's eye. "It surely was a strange windstorm we had this morning."
"Strange indeed," answered Duraugh solemnly.
Tisala could tell by the expression on his face that Tosten had not thought his uncle would say anything. Tosten had known about the dragon, thought Tisala, watching their faces, but his uncle and cousin hadn't until this morning. Hurog blue eyes met in a soundless argument, Tosten pleading for time. It occurred to Tisala that the dragon had had Hurog-blue eyes as well - just like Oreg, who'd gone to watch out for Ward.
"Frighted the horses but good," said Beckram. "I dare say that a storyteller would make up something about a great monster who scared the horses - but that might make it harder for us to get the Hurogmeten out of the Asylum. These lowlanders are greedy for things they don't understand; they might think that Ward had something to do with a mythical beast."
Tosten gave his cousin a grateful look.
Lord Duraugh glanced about at his own men. "I would be very unhappy if a rumor were to make it more difficult to free my nephew. Very unhappy." He sounded it, too.
"What windstorm?" said one of the Blue Guard, a man named Soren. "It was Bethem's snoring that startled the horses."
Bethem, whom Tisala knew as one of the best swordsmen in the Guard, spit on the ground. " 'Twas naught but your wife - she's scared the hides off braver animals than our horses."