He also realized that the flames were dying down faster than he would have expected. The building that Pirakos and his enemy had crashed into was large enough, he’d thought, to burn far longer than this.
Then two things became clear at the same time; the knowledge hit Linden like a blow. For with each heartbeat the fire died a little more. And as the fire died, the figure within the blaze became more distinct.
The phoenix
—a strange mindvoice gasped in Linden’s mind.
He knew it was the stranger. As one part of his mind wondered that the unknown one spoke Yerrin—although with a trace of an accent he didn’t recognize—Linden finished,
Is renewing itself
.
Moment by moment, the song of the phoenix turned from pain to joy. The last of the flames died away, revealing a giant golden bird like the one Linden had just confronted—and helped send to its death. He braced himself for another attack.
The bird’s head turned so that one scarlet eye stared at them.
Linden caught his breath. Scarlet. Not green, but scarlet—like a dragon’s.
*No. Not death. Release.
*
The mindvoice was tentative, as if unsure of how to use words. Indeed, Linden wasn’t certain if he really heard words, or just fitted them to the emotions that suffused the mindvoice.
*Friends. Guard. Not let … capture again.*
Fear filled the mindvoice. The phoenix held out its wings as if in supplication.
Its feathers need to harden,
the stranger said. His eyes were huge as he watched the phoenix.
*Yes. Help.*
We will
, Linden answered with the others. He sprang into the air first and flew the short distance to the young phoenix. He landed, careful not to get too close to the wings. The others did the same.
The young phoenix spread its wings, fanning them gently, then stretching out first one, then the other. The color of the feathers rippled, changing from the purest yellow to red-gold. At last the colors settled to a rich gold like an old coin, with the wing and tail feathers tipped with a ruddier gold. And when the phoenix raised its wings as if paying homage to the sun, Linden was certain he saw a greenish tint underlying the feathers of its throat. A tint he had
not
seen on the phoenix he’d fought.
Then the wings swept down and the phoenix rose lightly from the earth.
*Free now!*
it sang.
Indeed, yes, Linden thought as they watched the phoenix fly swiftly into the sky and disappear. They were all free now, especially those two who had suffered the most.
Linden?
He turned to Maurynna. Long fangs greeted him; startled, he flinched back. Blue-green flames washed over him.
At once his wounds ceased hurting and the ache disappeared from his muscles.
You’ve no idea,
Maurynna said smugly,
how long I’ve been waiting to do that
.
Lleld and Jekkanadar settled to the ground to rest.
I’ll mindcall Linden, tell him what’s happened.
Jekkanadar was only too happy to agree. Since they’d landed in an uninhabited area, he laid his long neck on the ground and closed his eyes. Lleld spread a wing over him.
He was almost asleep when he heard Lleld shriek
By the gods!
He sprang up, looking wildly around for enemies.
What’s wrong?
Linden said there’s nothing we can do in Rivasha; both Pirakos and the phoenix are free, though Pirakos died—he thinks. He said to return to the Zharmatians for Otter, Yesuin, and the Llysanyins.
None of which was cause for nearly frightening him to death.
Lleld
—
what aren’t you telling me?
Her mouth opened in a dragon’s grin.
Maurynna wasn’t the only one no one felt! There’s another new Dragonlord,
she caroled in joy.
All Jekkanadar could find to say was,
By all the gods
… . Then he threw back his head and roared with happiness.
Ending the conversation with Lleld, Linden said,
We must do something about the fires
.
But what?
Maurynna fretted.
There’s no way we can bring enough water to—
A voice like gentle rain broke into her mind.
*Thee cannot
—
but we can.*
She looked up in astonishment and gasped. For drifting in the sky were six ghostly dragons, long and slender like Miune. They were the color of fog, glittering here and there like mother-of-pearl.
A soft rain began to fall. All around them the flames hissed and died.
The Rain Lords,
she thought in wonder.
Miune had been right.
The first message raced through
the
mehanso
like the wind before a storm:
Strangers approach. Many strangers
. It came with the running feet of the children, who spread the word as they raced to their homes. While Shima translated it for them, Linden watched from the rooftop as mothers hurried out of the stone houses and hustled the children deeper into the canyon.
“Where are they going?” he asked.
“To the Pillar,” Shima answered from behind him. “It’s an island of rock rising from the canyon floor. My people retreat there during invasions. No enemy has ever taken it.”
Linden looked over his shoulder. “Do you think this is an invasion?” He pushed away from the low wall he leaned on. “We’ll need room to Cha—” He looked up at the sound of flapping wings. “What on … ?
A small—as dragons went—fiery red dragon glided in circles above the canyon.
“Lleld!” cried Linden, Maurynna, and Raven together.
“Ah,” said Shima. “This is the Lady Mayhem you told me of?”
Maurynna nodded. “The same.”
Linden changed to mindspeech and greeted Lleld, letting the others “listen” in.
Lleld rolled in the air.
What a lovely place to fly—the currents are strong! I saw the children being herded away, but everything’s well. It’s only our party approaching.
She rolled again. Silvery laughter bubbled in Linden’s mind.
How long?
he asked.
Four, perhaps five candlemarks. The three of us and Shan could be there sooner, but the Zharmatian horses can’t match the Llysanyins. Oh, and speaking of Llysanyins, Shan is a … tad annoyed that you never came back for him, Linden.
The last was said far too innocently for Linden’s peace of mind. He could just imagine Shan’s temper; a “tad annoyed” his ass. Making a mental note to stay out of reach of hooves and teeth, Linden slid a snake-eyed look over his shoulder as Maurynna and Raven burst into laughter.
“I’ll remember that,” Linden muttered at them.
I must return,
said Lleld. She banked out of her lazy circling and flew back the way she had come. Then, faintly, came,
Do remember to dodge, Linden.
“Shima,” Maurynna said, wiping her eyes, “does your mother have a good supply of bandages to hand?” Once again, she and Raven dissolved into laughter.
A puzzled Shima looked in mute appeal at Linden.
“Ignore them,” he growled. “They think they’re funny. Shan has a bit of a temper sometimes, that’s all.” Linden stalked off down the stairs hugging the outside wall, pointedly ignoring Maurynna and Raven.
Above him he heard Shima ask in a worried voice, “Bandages? Temper? Are all Llysanyins like that?” and the others trying to reassure him between bouts of laughter.
No, Linden wanted to yell back. I was just the lucky one.
Damnation. Maybe he could find an apple somewhere.
Jhanun would pay. For now he had escaped her but, by the Phoenix, he would pay for the theft of her child.
Dressed in tunic and breeches of Zharmatian cut, but made of Jehangli imperial brocades, Shei-Luin rode at the head of a troop of soldiers as they galloped along the main road to the capital. Xahnu rode pillion behind her as a Zharmatian child would. When he tired, Murohshei would take him.
Once I am in the capital again, I must consolidate my power, for there will be war—I know it. Jhanun will fight me to the death for Jehanglan, for he is a man. But I am a mother—and will hound him beyond the gates of Death for my youngest son should any harm befall Xu.
Jhanun did not yet know what he faced. But he would—if it took her the rest of the both of their lives, he would learn.
It wasn’t quite as bad as he’d thought it would be. Linden and the others stood with the Tah’nehsieh leaders as Lleld, Jekkanadar, and Otter, with the whooping Zharmatians ranging behind, cantered into the valley. Leading them all was Shan.
When the stallion saw Linden, he neighed angrily and broke into a dead run. Linden stepped forward and held his ground. He heard gasps behind him as the charging stallion closed the distance with no sign of stopping.
Linden hoped Shan knew what he was doing. Hell—he hoped
he
knew what he was doing. If Shan didn’t stop in the next few heartbeats, it would be impossible for him to end the lethal charge.
He’s gone too
—
!
Somehow Shan did the impossible. At what Linden would have thought
beyond the last possible instant, Shan skidded to a halt in front of him, nearly sitting in the dust to do so.
The next thing Linden knew, strong white teeth snapped in his face and at his chest, once, twice, a half a dozen times almost before he could blink. Finished, Shan turned his head so that one angry eye was fixed on Linden. The stallion’s ears were pinned tight against his head.
“Are you quite through?” Linden asked mildly.
Shan snapped once more at Linden’s face.
“Look what I found.” Linden reached into his belt pouch and held aloft his prize—a dried apple.
One black ear twitched forward, then the other. They quivered with anticipation.
For one moment, Linden considered teasing Shan with the apple, then decided that he’d no wish for a broken foot or worse, even if Maurynna could Heal him now. He held the wrinkled morsel out on his palm. “Here.”
The apple disappeared with a loud crunch.
“Friends again?”
“For an apple,” a dry voice said, “Shan would be friends with the Black Troll of Cavralen. Wouldn’t you, you greedy guts?”
Linden looked up to see a tired and dusty—but smiling—Otter approaching, Nightsong close behind. For a long moment the mare regarded Shan happily munching, then snorted in disgust.
Stallions,
she seemed to say.
Walking stomachs
.
“Gods, but it’s good to see all of you again,” Otter said, catching Linden in a kinsman’s embrace. Then the bard held his arms open, and Maurynna and Raven leaped into them.
“Ooof! Have mercy on an old man!” But the bard was laughing and giving back at least as good as he got; Linden swore he could hear Maurynna’s ribs creak. “Truly, I thank the gods we’re all together once more and all safe.”
From the corner of his eye, Linden saw Zhantse meet Yesuin and lead him away.
“Shima,” Maurynna called. “Come meet Otter.”
Shima came forward shyly, but was soon drawn into the group.
A tug on his sleeve drew Linden’s attention from the reunion. He looked around—no one there—and then down.
“He’s the new Dragonlord?” Lleld asked, her eyes fixed on the Tah’nehsieh.
“He is,” Linden replied. “Shima Ilyathan.”
Lleld heaved a sigh of pure happiness. “Oh, good—he’s still much taller than I am.”
It was only a few days later when word came that the last of the magic was gone from the Straits. It was time to find their ship once more; Lleld claimed the errand for herself.
“No one knows where Miune is, and I want to stretch my wings again,” Lleld complained. “They won’t let me fly over the canyon anymore to tumble in the air. I make the flocks and herds nervous, they say—can you imagine?”
“Yes,” said Linden, who’d been in the common pasture hammering down a loose nail in Boreal’s shoe as Lleld practiced her aerial acrobatics one day. If the Llysanyins hadn’t formed a barrier around him when the Tah’nehsieh horses had panicked … “I can imagine. Easily.”
“Hmph,” Lleld sniffed. “Anyway, I’m off.” She ran down to the wide dancing floor. As always, a crowd of children raced after her to watch her Change.
As they watched Lleld fly away, Linden turned to Maurynna standing behind him. “So it’s back to the sea again for us, Maurynna-love. And since you can Change now, I don’t think the Lady will object if you choose to spend some time away from Dragonskeep and onboard a ship once more.”
For a moment he wondered if she heard him, for her eyes looked beyond him to the canyon wall opposite. Their gaze was dreamy and unfocused as if she saw something else entirely. A half smile played over her lips. Then her gaze shifted to him, and her smile widened.
“Do you know, Linden,” she said, “I think I would like to see mountains again. Our mountains.”
Linden held out his arms and Maurynna stepped into his embrace. She hugged him fiercely.
“I want to go home,” she said quietly.
He rested his cheek against her hair.
Home
. The word had never sounded so beautiful before. “So we shall, love,” he answered and pulled her closer. “So we shall.”