Masques (Sianim #1)(64)

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WOLF WORKED AT THE SPELL FOR DAYS, UNTIL HE COULD direct it better, but the force of the spell varied widely. Wolf muttered and finally even went back to mixing the powders, but the spell still wouldn't stabilize. He decided to try a few different herbs that might refine the reaction. He didn't have all that he needed, so he left to do some trading in the South.

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THE SUN WAS DRIFTING TOWARD EVENING, TURNING THE PEAKS of the mountains red. Aralorn shifted contentedly on her rock near the cave entrance. Several days ago someone found a huge patch of berries, and the whole camp had spent the better part of two days harvesting the find. Haris had been mixing them into everything and today had managed to cook several pies. Given that the only thing that he had to cook on was a grate over a fire, it was probable that he'd used magic to do it, but no one was complaining.

Licking her fingers clean of the last of the sweet stuff, Aralorn ran an idle gaze up the cliff face and caught something out of the corner of her eye. It was a shadow in the evening sky that was gone almost as soon as she saw it. She got to her feet and backed away from the cliff, trying to figure out just what it was that she saw, calling out an alarm as she did so.

The four or five people who were out milling about with various chores started for the entrance at a run. Stanis and Tobin were coming up the trail to the valley with a donkey cart laden with firewood. Although they heard the alert too, they weren't abide to increase their pace much because of the donkey and they weren't about to abandon the results of their labors.

Aralorn distractedly glanced at them and then looked back at the cliff, just in time to see the dragon launch itself. The scales of its belly and wings mimicked the evening sky closely enough that it appeared only as a moving shadow, despite its nearness.

Aralorn headed for Stanis and Tobin as fast as she could. Seeing her, they abandoned the donkey and began running themselves. As she neared them, the shadow on the ground told her that the dragon was just overhead. She knocked both boys to the ground in a wrestler's tackle and felt the razor-sharp claws run almost gently across her back.

The dragon gave a hiss that could have been either disappointment or amusement, and settled for the donkey, which it killed with a casual swipe of its tail. As it ate it watched idly as Aralorn drove the two boys into the cave and stood guard at the entrance.

Aralorn met its gaze and knew that her sword was pitifully inadequate for the task, even if she were a better swordswoman. She had some hope that the runes that had kept the Uriah at bay would do the same to the dragon, but dragons were supposed to be creatures of magic and fire. A flaming barrier would be of little use.

She heard the sounds of running footsteps behind her and then Myr's exclamation when he saw the dragon. He drew his grandfather's sword and held it in readiness. Aralorn noted with a touch of amusement that his larger sword looked to be a much more potent barrier than her own.

"How big do you think that thing is?" asked Myr in a whisper.

"Not as big as it looked when it was over the top of me, but big enough that I don't want to fight it," murmured Aralorn in reply. The dragon paused in its eating to look over at them and smile, quite an impressive sight - easily as intimidating as Wolf's.

Myr stiffened. "It heard us."

Aralorn nodded reluctantly. "And understood what we said. Well, if you have to die, I guess a dragon is an impressive way to do it; maybe even worth a song or two. Just think, we are the first people to see a dragon in generations. Aside from Wolf, of course."

"He is beautiful," said Myr. As if in approval of his comment, a ripple of purple traveled through the blue of its scales.

"Watch that," said Aralorn. "I think that he can alter his color at will; when I first saw him he was nearly invisible. It could make him even harder to fight."

"It makes you wonder why there aren't more dragons, doesn't it?" commented Myr.

Finished with the donkey, the dragon rose and stretched. No longer completely blue, its scales showed highlights of various colors. Only its teeth and the claws on its feel and the edges of its wings were an unchanging black. When it was done it started, almost casually, toward them.

Myr stepped out from the meager protection of the cave entrance into the fading light and Aralorn followed his lead. Something about Myr appeared to catch the dragon's interest: it stopped and whipped its long, swanlike neck straight, shooting the elegant head forward. Brilliant, gemlike eyes glittered green and then gold. Without warning it opened its mouth and spat flame at Myr. Its aim was so exact that Aralorn wasn't even singed, although she stood near enough to Myr to reach out and touch him.

Myr, being immune to magic, was untouched, although the same could not be said about his clothes. The hand that held his sword was steady, though his grip was tighter than it needed to be. He was no coward, this King of Reth. Aralorn surprised herself with a bit of national pride.

The dragon drew its head back and said, in courtly Rethian that Aralorn felt as much as heard, "Dragon-blessed, this is far from your court. Why do you disturb me here?"

Myr, clothed in little more than the tattered remnants of cloth and leather, somehow managed to look as regal and dignified as the dragon did. "My apologies if we are troubling you. Our quarrel is not with you."

The dragon made an amused sound. "I hardly thought that it was, princeling."

"King," said Aralorn, deciding that the contempt that the dragon was exhibiting could get dangerous.