Authors: Joanne Bertin
Though his senses seem to be going mad, Shima tricks the patrol and rolls a rock down upon them, killing most of the soldiers and allowing Raven and Tefira to escape. Shima runs in one direction, leading the remaining soldiers away. Raven and Tefira go in another direction.
Tefira guesses where his brother is going and leads Raven there. They watch from one ridge as Shima comes over another. Shima falls and rolls down the slope into the “bowl” formed by the ridges. He takes shelter in a small cave as the patrol chasing him clears the ridge.
Just when Shima thinks he’s safe, his claustrophobia drives him into the open. His senses reeling, Shima fears he’s gone mad, because he feels as if he is melting. The last thing he sees is one of the patrol readying to cast a spear at him.
Only Raven understands what is happening: Shima is Changing. Knowing that if the iron spearhead should touch the red mist forming around Shima, the young Tah’nehsieh will be unmade, Raven throws a rock at the spearman. His aim is true, and Shima, unharmed, safely Changes into a dragon.
Meanwhile, Maurynna goes deeper and deeper into the tunnels to Pirakos. Driven mad by his long confinement, he tries to kill her when she arrives. Using the dead Dragonlord’s sword, she weakens each of the chains binding Pirakos’s feet. She flees into the tunnels, knowing she has little time before he breaks free. With the insane dragon in pursuit, she runs through the tunnels.
Just as Pirakos corners her, the massive doors leading to the outside open for a procession of Jehangli priests. Distracted by the first touch of fresh air he’s felt in centuries, Pirakos forgets Maurynna long enough for her to beg her dragon half to allow her to Change. When Pirakos turns his attention back to her, he finds a dragon. Their battle is brief; the longing for freedom is too much for Pirakos. He runs for the open air, Maurynna right behind him. Both burst into the sunlight. Unexpectedly, Pirakos turns and flies away. Maurynna and Shima, both still in dragon-form, follow as best they can.
Meanwhile, Linden, Lleld, Jekkanadar, and Otter have remained with the Zharmatians. An unknown dragon, Miune Kihn, again mindcalls them and tells them they must destroy the three stones that anchor the circle of enchantment that holds the Phoenix captive. So they Change. Each chooses a point of attack; Linden, as the fastest and strongest flier, makes for the city where the Phoenix is held after accomplishing his mission.
When the magical shield holding the Phoenix falls, Linden does his best to keep the furious creature from taking revenge upon the humans who kept it imprisoned. But Linden is no match for the Phoenix; only the arrival of Pirakos stops the unequal battle before its inevitable, tragic end.
Pirakos and the Phoenix, each consumed by hatred for the other, close in battle. It ends with both falling to the ground, locked in a fatal embrace.
Yet out of the fiery ending comes a newly risen Phoenix. But this one is not the unthinking animal of previous incarnations. As the new Phoenix rises, it becomes clear that this one is a melding of phoenix and dragon.
Once the young Phoenix is safely away from the city, Linden, Maurynna, and Shima make their way to Shima’s home, a part of Jehanglan held by Shima’s tribe: Nisayeh, land of the Tah’nehsieh. There they meet again with Otter, Lleld, and Jekkanadar.
Soon it will be time for all to return to the north with the newest Dragonlord, Shima Ilyathan.
Prologue
In southern Yerrih, a few months after the return from Jehanglan
Raven and Beast Healer Gunnis
rode easily on their way to the Beast Healers’ chapterhouse of Grey Holt, close to both the Yerrin town of Fern Crossing and the border with Kelneth. The sun shone high overhead in a cloudless sky. In another candlemark, it would begin its journey to the west; but for now it was high enough that it didn’t shine in their eyes. And by the time Raven came back this way, it would be behind him. What could be better?
Oh, yes; a good day, this, Raven thought with contentment. The haggling was done with; Gunnis had confirmed all the horses they’d bought were healthy and fit for the journey north. And his aunt Yarrow was well-nigh walking on air, she was so pleased with her new band of broodmares. All that was left now was to get some liniment from Grey Holt’s store of medicines to replenish their supply. For the morrow would see them on their way back to Yarrow’s holding with their fine new mares.
Raven patted his Llysanyin’s neck. Even now he sometimes still couldn’t believe that one of the legendary mounts of the Dragonlords had chosen to share his life with him, an ordinary truehuman. Yet Stormwind had.
“I feel bad for Lord Sansy that he had to sell those mares,” he said. “But his bad luck at gambling is our good fortune—that and Reed Thornson buying five palfreys from my aunt at just the right time. Those mares of Sansy’s are some of the best I’ve ever seen.”
Gunnis nodded. “They’re fine animals. It’s a pity, really. Rade Welkin, the old Lord Sansy, worked hard to build that herd. And now his son Agon sells the best part of it for a fraction of what it’s worth. Agon started out years ago with everything his father had left him—it was a good bit, too!—and let it dribble away from him. All because he can’t stay away from the dice.”
Gunnis sighed, staring down at his horse’s mane as if he saw something else there. The long-legged, shaggy hound that was his familiar—or brother-in-fur, as the Yerrins called the animals that shared a Beast Healer’s life—looked up at him as it loped alongside his horse and whined softly. A meadowlark’s song drifted sweetly on the warm air.
“Don’t worry, Bouncer. It’s nothing we can help, old fellow.” The Beast Healer shook his head and went on, “I wonder if it would have been different if title and manor had gone to one of the children from the first marriage.”
“A younger son inherited? The others all died?” Raven asked. Gods, but that house was plagued by ill luck, he thought.
“No, not all died—one went for a bard. The others were still alive then, you see.”
“And a bard can’t inherit a title.” Raven remembered his great-uncle Otter telling him that when he was young. At the time, Raven hadn’t thought it was fair. But his great-uncle had reminded him that a bard had to be neutral, it was part of the oath they took—and you couldn’t be neutral if you were tied to a manor or farm or whatever. It made sense to him now.
“Just so. Old Rade married again—he had to or the title would’ve gone to a cousin he detested. He married a girl from the weaver hall he founded in one of the villages on his lands. Everyone thought him a foolish, besotted old man whose head was turned by a beautiful girl.”
The Beast Healer fell silent. Raven waited, wondering if there was more.
After a time, Gunnis went on, “Agon and his sister, Romissa, were the children of Rade’s old age. One of the older servants once told me that the old man was fair tickled that he sired a son and daughter so late in life. He doted on them, the boy in particular. Then something happened, I don’t know what, and he threatened to disown them. But he died before he could do so. Perhaps this is how Agon is repaying him for trying to cast him and his sister aside. His father must be weeping in his grave over those horses.” Gunnis shook his head. “Sad—very sad.”
A pall settled over Raven’s good mood, but lifted at the Beast Healer’s next words.
“Still, I think he’d rather the horses be with someone who’ll treasure them as I know your aunt will. Some things are worth more than gold,” Gunnis said.
“Don’t worry—my aunt already treasures them above the Hoard of Lanresh,” Raven said, naming a greedy, long-ago Kelnethi king whose lost treasure hoard was the stuff of legend.
“I know. That will ease the old man’s heart wherever he is in the Summerlands. That, and knowing they’ll be bred to this fellow,” Gunnis said, tilting his head at Stormwind. “The old lord probably would’ve sold every one of his own offspring for such a chance!” he finished with a chuckle.
Stormwind tossed his head, sending his heavy grey mane flying. He arched his neck and pranced. Bouncer barked gaily at him, wagging his tail.
Raven laughed at the dog. “So tell me—are there any Beast Healers with horses for brothers-in-fur?” he asked, imagining a Llysanyin as one. That’s what he’d have wanted if he’d been a Beast Healer. “I’ve only seen a dog or a cat as a familiar.”
“Oh, yes, there are a few. There are also various birds, rabbits, ferrets, a fox or two—all kinds of animals. At my chapterhouse there’s even a girl with a woods dog—what you northern Yerrins call a
ghulon
—for her brother-in-fur.”
Raven gaped at him. A
ghulon
? The shy, badgerlike creatures were known for their fierce tempers and incredible strength; even a bear would think twice, thrice, and many times more before stealing a
ghulon
’s meal. “Good gods!”
“That,” replied Gunnis dryly, “was what a number of us said, too. When it wasn’t something much worse, that is. Come to think of it, it was your friend, Dragonlord Linden Rathan, and one of our Beast Healers, Conor, that gave her the name Pod—”
He broke off at the sight that greeted them as they rounded a bend. A fair distance down the road a group of riders circled two small figures huddled in the dust. Raven could hear faint weeping. Now and again one of the riders would dart in and turn aside just short of riding down the youngsters. Jeers greeted each terrified shriek.
Raven’s first thought was bandits toying with their victims; he half-drew his sword. Then he saw that they were too well dressed and well mounted. Young nobles bored and looking for amusement at someone else’s expense, the sods.
“Bloody little—” Raven snarled in frustration as he slammed his sword back into its sheath. If only they’d been bandits.…
“That’s Teasel and Speedwell!” Gunnis gasped. “Reed’s fosterlings!”
Even as he spoke, a gap opened in the circle. Teasel grabbed her little brother’s hand, hauled him to his feet, and dashed toward the opening and safety in the gorse bushes beyond the edge of the road.
But a scarlet-and-blue-clad rider was suddenly before them, cutting them off. One booted foot kicked out and Teasel fell to the ground on top of her brother.
With a scream of rage the Llysanyin broke into a run even before Raven’s signal. As they raced down the road, Raven shouted at the attackers. He heard a yelling Gunnis following as fast as his horse could run. But no ordinary horse could keep up with a Llysanyin; the Beast Healer and his baying familiar were soon left behind.
But it seemed the attackers had heard Bouncer. The one who had knocked Teasel down reined his horse around in a tight circle and called to his friends. They lined up across the road, facing the oncoming Raven.
“Such a hero, plowboy!” the scarlet-and-blue-clad man called mockingly through cupped hands. “Are you going to spank us?”
But well before he reached them, one of the men pointed past Raven and cried out. The line broke and they raced off, heading for the crossroads and the road south that led to Kelneth.
Of course; they’d seen the Beast Healer’s tunic of brown and green. No, they wouldn’t want a witness such as Gunnis testifying against them, the cowards.
Swearing in frustration, Raven pulled Stormwind to a stop by the two children. “Are you hurt?” he asked as he jumped down from the saddle. “Let me see.”
Teasel, a thin trickle of blood running down her cheek, shook her head. “Never mind! Get them! Get them before they get into Kelneth!”
Gunnis rode up. “That was Lord Tirael, wasn’t it?” he asked in the tired voice of one who already knew the answer.
“It was,” Speedwell sniffled as Bouncer nosed him, whining anxiously. “He’s a rotter, he is.”
Raven turned to Gunnis. “You know him?”
“Unfortunately, yes. Tirael Barans, son of Lord Portis of Cassori and a cousin of Lord Lenslee from just over the border. And he is, as young Speedwell says, a rotter,” said Gunnis as he dismounted. “As are his friends.”
“They scared off our ponies,” Speedwell added as if this was the ultimate proof of villainy.
Raven thought Gunnis was about to say more, but with a look at the shaken children, the Beast Healer pressed his lips together. He knelt in the dusty road before Teasel.
“This,” he scolded as he examined the thin cut on Teasel’s face, “is what happens when you give your tutors the slip and go riding by yourselves.”
“Yes, sir,” they said with downcast eyes; Speedwell asked, “How did you know?”
“Hmph!” was the Beast Healer’s only answer. He opened his scrip of medicines. Taking a clean cloth and a small flask of herbal wash, he bathed Teasel’s cheek. She grimaced against the sting but held still.
When he was done tending to the children, Raven beckoned him aside. “Will Reed seek justice, do you think? I got a fairly good look at most of them. I think I’d be able to recognize them if they were brought before the Shire Mote.”
Gunnis shook his head. “They’ll be long over the border before anything can be done—they’re all Kelnethi or Cassorin. Reed may be the shire reeve but his arm doesn’t stretch beyond Yerrih’s border.
“Yet if that bunch have half the wits of a sausage amongst the lot of ’em, they’ll find somewhere else to play their foul little games for a good long while. Reed won’t forget—or forgive—this.”
Raven rubbed the back of his neck. “Hmm, yes. Reed has a long memory. But even he can’t keep up that kind of watch forever.”
“And in time the outrage will fade like Teasel’s bruises because it was no worse than that,” Gunnis said with a heavy sigh. “Thank the gods,” he hastened to add.
Raven didn’t want to think about what might have happened if he and Gunnis hadn’t come along. “So they’ve done something like this before?”
“Gods, yes! And worse. How do you think I know so much about them? A bunch of bullies—and pretty Lord Tirael is the worst of ’em all.”
And nothing could be done about it. That rankled. Raven caught up Stormwind’s reins. “I’ll go round up the ponies.”
He stood a moment before mounting, looking down the road, remembering the blood trickling down Teasel’s cheek.
Done this before, have you? May I be there the day this all catches up with you.
Then he swung back into the saddle and set off pony hunting.