Dragon Rule

The lands they flew over, the rough terrain south of Ghioz, made for poor eating. Nothing but thorn and cactus and foul mudholes. Game was scarce and the journey slow until they reached the Horsedowns.

Men here were scarce, tribal, and what there were more or less worshiped the dragons. They happily let the dragons eat horses and ponies.

Their escort fed themselves on wild horses, and allowed the exiles only their scraps. AuSurath proved his loyalty to the Lava-dome by only giving them what dragons usually considered offal.

While AuRon was too proud to ask his son for more, Wistala was under no such obligation to go. “You expect us to fly on gristle and hooves, nephew?” Wistala asked.

“The loss of a few pounds will do you good,” AuSurath replied.

Finally Shadowcatch, irritable because of all the flying, ambled over and picked up a horse half and glared at their escort, daring them to do anything about it. The Copper ate a few bits as a polite thank-you, but had no appetite. Even the juicy horse tasted like ash.

Nilrasha’s eyrie no longer looked picturesque and cozy. If anything, it seemed horribly remote and lonely. Anything could happen to his mate here, far from witnesses.

She had a visitor, although it wasn’t one of her favorites. Old Ibidio, mother to Halaflora and Imfamnia and Ayafeeia, leader of the Firemaids. The old battle-ax never thought the Copper and Nilrasha were worthy to dwell in Imperial Rock, let alone preside over it.

Nilrasha looked worried and haggard. Entertaining Ibidio for who knows how long had taken its toll. Did she know?

“My love, you arrive with quite a procession. I don’t think my refuge will hold them all,” Nilrasha said.

NiVom had the flying escort circle the eyrie. Wistala and AuRon landed. Shadowcatch put his bulk on a precarious grip at the landing ledge. He closed off Nilrasha’s cavern like a door.

“What brings you this far north, Ibidio?” the Copper asked.

She rattled her griff. “I hoped to get some truth at last.”

“I suspect you wanted to see the look on my mate’s face when she heard the news.”

“What news, my love?” Nilrasha said, clearly nervous.

“I’m no longer Tyr. The twins will rule the Lavadome. NiVom and his mate will take charge of the Upper World for them.”

The rims of her eyes and nostrils went white. “What’s to become of us?”

“Exile, I’m afraid,” the Copper said.

Ibidio thumped her tail. “I came to see to this personally. Nilrasha, you have one chance to save your mate from disgraceful exile.”

“Now, just one moment, Ibidio,” NiVom said.

“Shut up, NiVom, or I’ll see to it that the twins choose another dragon to oversee affairs in the Upper World.” Ibidio turned back to Nilrasha. “Confess to the murder of Halaflora and face punishment. Then we’ll allow your mate, an innocent in your schemes, to remain among us.”

What did poor Halaflora matter now? The Copper felt his temper flare. If he could just spit fire properly, he’d flame the old buzzard’s face.

“Don’t say anything, Nilrasha. Ibidio, isn’t seeing me dethroned triumph enough for you?”

“It’s bloodlines that matter,” Ibidio said. “I’ve had enough of rule by unknowns. Such a court! This RuGaard, a usurper, a foundling who mates a nobody from Milkdrinker’s Hill and then brings in a dragon who believes herself a Hypatian and a scaleless hermit to presume to rule as Queen. Arrogance!”

“You think you will do better under the twins?” the Copper said. “You’re a fool if you think so, Ibidio. It’s the Red Queen’s old bargain. NiVom and Imfamnia will rule the Upper World. The Lavadome will exist only at their sufferance.”

“They can be managed. The Ankelenes have the crystal. We’ll keep an eye on them. Imfamnia may be a greedy, vain ninny of a dragon, but she at least comes from a noble line.”

“You nostril-clenching gargoyle,” Nilrasha roared. “With your precious bloodlines and family traditions. You’ve always resented me. RuGaard was perfectly acceptable as Tyr; you put him forward! Until he mated with me, that is. Then you started your whispers. Viper, you’ve spat your last poison!”

With that Nilrasha charged, mouth agape.

Shadowcatch threw himself in front of NiVom, who was moving in to protect Ibidio. Old Ibidio, who’d probably never opened her mouth in battle since she’d breathed her first fire at the end of hatchlinghood, froze in fury. Nilrasha struck her like a charging elephant and they clawed briefly, frantically, at the edge of the parapet before disappearing over the side.

“Nilrasha,” the Copper shrieked, launching himself into the air. His throne didn’t matter. The only thing that counted was his mate.

Together, the combatants plunged into the valley, bouncing off the sheer side of Nilrasha’s eyrie. Ibidio’s wings weren’t up to supporting both.

He folded his wings and dove. If his artificial joint gave way, so be it.

He heard a crashing of timber below. Startled black-and-white birds took to the sky, marking their fall.

The Copper opened his wings, daring them to give way and stop him from striking the valley floor next to his mate. But Rayg’s engineering supported him.

He found Nilrasha, bleeding from torn-away scale but otherwise miraculously uninjured, atop the broken body of Ibidio. Sightless eyes stared in different directions.

So passed the mother of his first mate.

“I can’t even die right,” Nilrasha managed between gasps. She licked him across the snout, exposing a broken fang.

“You’re just lucky,” the Copper said.

NiVom and his gargoyles came down at a safe pace, followed by Shadowcatch and the Aerial Host escort.

“Well, Nilrasha, I suppose I owe you a thank-you,” NiVom said. “Ibidio and her clique would have given me some difficulties. You’ve just strengthened my hold on the Lavadome.”

Nilrasha spat blood at him.

“Why don’t you just kill us and get it over with?” the Copper asked.

“No, RuGaard. I want you to go live with cold memories, in hiding, as I did. As nothing but a memory, you’re bound to improve. The dragons will forget your limp and your stupid expression and only remember your victories. But you and your wretched mate aging in exile, growing ever weaker—that’ll take the glamour off your name.”

“Then at least give me leave to live quietly with my mate, here in her eyrie. I can hunt and fish for us both. I’ll never enter the Lavadome again, or so much as offer advice to a young member of the Aerial Host.”

“No, Nilrasha’s too clever. She’s been your brains for years. You two might get up to something. The best safeguard of your good behavior is your mate, here, where I can keep an eye on her—and you as far away as possible. The other side of the world would do nicely.”

“You would forcibly part mated dragons?” Nilrasha asked.

“Your mating, if those ridiculous ascents you attempt could be called a mating flight, is of dubious provenance,” NiVom said.

“Now hear this, dragonkind. You are stripped of the honorable name RuGaard. From now on you’re just ‘Batty’ to us. It was good enough for you in the drakwatch caves, it’ll be good enough for the future. This is my bargain, a better one than I got: as long as you remain outside the Dragon Empire, you and Nilrasha will come to no harm. But set sii back on our lands and I’ll see to it that she’s thrown from her resort. Only this time, I’ll make sure she lands on something sharper than Ibidio.”

Chapter 19

They flew in stages, resting frequently in the cool sea. It was not a quick trip—their escort frequently demanded that they stop and argue the correct course so as not to pass too near the Hypatian coast, or to circumnavigate some island belonging to the Empire by map rather than actual occupation. AuRon thought it petty of their escort, and it reminded him of the Wizard Wrimere’s prickly vindictiveness. The escort left them near the great neck, turning home for Hypatia.

“Fair winds guide you to rest,” one of them said. The Copper, prodded, received a final thank-you for his promotion into the Aerial Host.

“Foolish of you, Father,” AuSurath said. “You’d think a dragon with no scale would be more sensitive to the direction in which the winds are blowing.”

He was silent and thoughtful the rest of the flight.

AuRon experienced the moment every dragon father must, when his son breathes fire into his face—metaphorically, of course, here in the windy skies of the Inland Ocean.

Wistala said little on the flight. AuRon had heard much of her exploits. He believed this was the first time she’d been really defeated.

His brother flew mechanically, as though strings controlled his movements. Or perhaps it was just the false joint mid wing.

Once they made it to the island, after a few days they’d decide what to do. AuRon found himself wishing he could have DharSii available—he was a strong, reasonable dragon who’d be a stout ally and a clear-headed counselor.

To AuRon, the Copper seemed increasingly numb to all that had happened. He spoke less and less at greater and greater intervals, and when he did speak it was only a commonplace, such as that he was tired or hungry. AuRon suspected that were it not for Wistala and Shadowcatch nudging him along from either side, he would have just flown aimlessly until he dropped from exhaustion into the sea.