[Lanen Kaelar 01] - Song in the Silence (30 page)

I walked to him as in a trance. I
would have walked off a cliff, I think, knowing he would fly swift as thought
and be there to catch me.

He picked me up, made a seat for me
with his hands, so I sat in one and the other held me gently and gave me
something to hang on to. His warm, armour-plated chest was at my back. I felt
him crouch, heard as he lifted his great wings. I braced myself as best I
could.

There was a sudden jerk as he sprang
into the sky, a sound like a far-off storm as his wings beat down again and
again, working to get us above the trees.

And we were flying.

XI

THE WIND OF CHANGE

Lanen

How shall I describe flying to you,
who will never know it?

I was terrified at first. The wind
rushed past me with the speed of a summer storm and a loud roar filled my ears.
Akor was carrying me close against his chest—perhaps he was trying to keep me
out of the wind—at any rate, it meant that I was being carried facedown and I
could see how fast we were going. And with every downbeat of his wings we rose
a little, and as they rose we fell. It was quite sickening at first.

When at last I dared to open my eyes,
it was like looking down at the trees from the highest cliff in the world after
you have jumped off. There was nothing between me and the longest drop you can
imagine save the clawed hands of a Dragon and the strong, rhythmic beat of his
wings. The twilight lingered longer up here, and I could see what passed below
brushed and blurred with shadow and with speed.

I was terrified.

I gripped his hands with all my
strength. They felt solid as stone, which reassured me a little. Also they were
warm with a Dragon’s inner fire, and I began to remember that it was
Akor
who held me. That helped a little more. I began to loosen my grip slightly, my
muscles aching from being so tightly clenched. His hands held me safe and
strong, and ever above and behind me I heard the beat of those great wings.
After a time, even the rising and falling gave me comfort.

I would not have believed it
possible; but eventually wonder overcame fear and I began to look about me.
Just then, Akor’s voice sang in my mind,
“These are the lands of my
people, dear one. You are greatly honoured. No member of your race has ever
seen these hills and valleys, these deep forests, that are home and safety to
us. Look well, Lanen Kaelar,”
and I could hear the smile in his
truespeech.
“This is the abode of Dragons.”

I looked as well as I could and
desperately wished it were daylight. But even in the last light of the sun
(which as I say lingered a little on high) I could see the hills and forests
over which we passed. There were open fields here and there, some scattered
with dark dots that might have been cattle. It was too dark to see anything
much beyond the general lay of the land, but I saw what I could only have
guessed from the ground—that the island was cut in half by a range of mountains
that ran from east to west. I could see no details, but they loomed ahead of us
as Akor flew north.

I was growing distinctly cold,
despite Akor’s warm chest plates behind my back, and it was getting harder to
breathe. I think I would have been near frozen were it not for being held close
to that living source of fire.

After what seemed like forever
(though later I realised was little more than the half of an hour) I felt
something change, a shift in his body. By now it was full dark and not worth
keeping my eyes open against the wind. I was cold and miserable and fighting
for air, but I wanted to know what was happening. I tried to ask him, but my
voice disappeared even as I spoke.

It was then that I understood with a
shock why all the race of the Kindred had the Language of Truth, while to my
people it was the rarest of gifts. How else could they speak to one another, here
where the air was thinner than on the tallest mountain, the wind roaring past
them and they separated by lit least two wings’ distance? Surely the Lady—no,
they called on the Winds, of course—surely the Winds had gifted them so they
might speak with each other in this world they shared only with the birds. And
the Dragons sang, too, I could hear it in their speaking. The music they would
make must surpass belief.

I wanted to bespeak Akor, ask how
long we had yet to go, but I remembered he had said that I could easily be
heard by others. I kept my peace and concentrated on breathing. I longed for
moonlight. From my position, in those moments when I managed to open my eyes, I
could only see the stars nearest the horizon.

Akor’s thoughts rose soft in mine.
“Forgive
me, little one, I had forgot you did not know. Our journey is nearly done. In a
moment I shall glide down the Wind, Do not be afraid when the ground comes up
to meet us.”
I could hear the gentle merriment in his thoughts.
“I
know all is new to you, but I have been flying for a very, very long time. You
need have no fear.”

When we started to spiral down
everything changed. It was the best part of the flight for me. Akor’s great
wings were outstretched and still as he glided down; the wind still rushed
past, but it was not so cold nor so turbulent as when he was beating the air.
My eyes seemed to recover a little as my breathing eased; I saw dimly below us,
in the center of the spiral, a large wooded hill with a clearing at its foot,
and as we came closer I saw a darkness that might have been a pool at the edge
of the clearing.

We were very close to the ground now
but still moving quickly. I am afraid I yelped a bit when he started beating
the air backwards: I don’t know what I expected, I had seen birds land before,
but this was a bit different.

He landed on his back legs, those
vast wings flapping as he fought to stay upright. It seemed very awkward to me,
but he neither dropped me nor fell over, so I supposed it was good enough.

He put me down gently. “Are you
well, little sister?” he asked. He seemed out of breath, which cheered me.
It was the first sign of physical effort I had seen in him, and it made him
seem a little more human, or at least a little less distant in kind.

Before my mind’s eye flashed the
image of that slim silverhaired man with Akor’s eyes. I must not think of
that.

“I’m frozen solid, but aside
from that, yes, I’m fine. Was it very difficult to fly carrying me?”

His laughter made steam clouds in the
cold, clear night. “You are lighter by far than cattle. Were it not for
having to land upright, I would, hardly have noticed I bore you.”

“How do you usually land?”
I asked. I did not wonder whether I might ask or not. All fear of Marik, all
fear of the others of his Kindred had left me, and deep in my soul I knew that
now we were here, there need be no long thought before a question was either
asked or answered. We were a little like two children finding themselves
together without a guardian, delighting in the privacy and whispering secrets
together in the dark.

“We are made to land on four
feet. It is fortunate that if was I who carried you; I know of no other of my
people who has practiced such a landing.”

“You’ve
practiced
this?”

It was amazing to see a creature so
noble and so naturally frightening actually manage to look sheepish. “I
have. Ah, Lanen, you have found me out! But come, you are cold. My chambers are
at hand—if you will bring wood I shall make a fire for you and tell you how I
came to do such a thing.” He looked around and spied a huge log.
“That will do to start,” he muttered, and effortlessly picked it up
in his mouth. It wasn’t until he tried to say something around it that I
started laughing. He gave me an unreadable look and moved towards a darker
opening in the dark side of the hill.

I gathered a few smaller logs, still
laughing. Not that the young tree trunk he carried wouldn’t burn all night, but
I needed to feel useful. Besides, I was trying to make sense my feelings. I
watched the creature I had such love for walking in four feet, lifting and
stretching wide silver wings stiff from the flight, long tail trailing
after.”

For an instant I saw a giant lizard
with wings and was disgusted.

Then he spoke to my thoughts with
that voice that chimed my heart.
“The entrance is here beneath the
trees; I shall await you.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. For he
was again Kordeshkisiriakor, a creature ancient and wondrous, and I did not
care what shape he had, for I loved most the soul inside the form. I followed
him towards the hillside, away from the clearing which we had landed. There was
only starlight to see by, but the night was so clear it was enough. The pool I
had seen from above lay open to the sky, and showed the vain stars their
glorious reflections.

Akor had gone towards two of the
tallest trees. They grew side by side and seemed in the starlight to be
guardians, old friends who had watched together over this place for many years.
He stopped before them, lowered his head and slipped between. I was amazed, there
had not seemed that much of a gap. When I came close enough to see, I found
there was easily fifteen feet between the two, though their ancient roots
effectively blocked the passage between. It would surely difficult for one of
the Kindred to enter who did not know those roots well. It was bad enough for
me, clambering over them in the starlit darkness.

Just past the trees there was a low
passageway in the rock no wider than the gap between the trees, but tall enough
for me to walk upright with headroom to spare. I am astounded to this day that
Akor could get in and out of that passageway but he did so with no trouble.

I took a deep breath before entering.
I have never liked caves—in fact, I am afraid of them—and here I was, facing a
walk in complete darkness down a passageway to I did know where. Did the
passage narrow ahead? Perhaps it came to a sudden end and Akor had forgotten
that I couldn’t fly. I gripped the wood, rough in my arms, and forced myself to
ignore such idiocy.

I managed to get perhaps five or six
steps inside before I stopped.

I am ashamed to admit it, but the
cave, the thought of a mountain of stone above me, would not be ignored, and
with that senseless fear came the memory of every stupid childish tale I had
ever heard about Dragons. In my terror I imagined the floor of the passage
littered with human bones and worse things and I stopped moving altogether.

“Akor?” I called out
weakly. I tried to force my voice to a semblance of courage but I failed
completely. “Akor, where are you? I can’t see. Are you there?”

I heard something moving not far
away. I jumped, my heart began to race, I dropped the wood I was carrying and
put my back against the wall. I was groping for my dagger when his voice came
back, loud in the darkness. “Lanen, I am here. Wait only a moment while I
set Fire to this wood.”

That was the longest moment in the
history of the world. I could not go back, I could not go on, I held back a
scream by the merest thread. I, Lanen Kaelar, who only moments ago had been
high in the air above the world and had managed to look about and forget fear,
whimpered in the stony darkness.

Suddenly I heard a loud crack and a
swift breath, and light blossomed like the first dawn of the world, golden,
warm and comforting.

I looked about me. On the ground was
only the earthen floor of the passage. The walls were smooth, the passage short
before and behind me. I began to breathe again, to feel much less afraid. How
powerful mere darkness was! When I stopped shaking I gathered up the wood I had
dropped and walked forward into the light.

At first all I could see was Akor,
the fire, and the fact that he was in a large space. I breathed easier. A large
space would not be so hard to bear. I laid my wood in a pile by the entrance,
for he had broken that whole huge log in two pieces and set it alight.

Then I began to look about me.

Whatever you have heard about a
dragon’s hoard is both less and more than the truth. I saw no artifacts, no
crowns of fallen kings, nor cups, nor stores of coin.

But there was more gold in that place
than I had ever imagined existed in the world. The walls of the cave were
covered with it to the depth of some inches (I could tell from the deep
engraving that covered much of it), and the gold was set all over with precious
gems and with nacre. Even a good quarter or the floor in one corner seemed made
of solid gold, and extending towards the passage opening was a path of the same
stuff, as though it were alive and growing towards the daylight.

I must have stood in the entryway for
a full minute, my jaw hanging open.

Akor bowed. “Welcome, Lanen, to
my chambers. Come in and warm yourself. I hope your fright is past? I did not
know you feared close spaces. It is not unknown even among my people, though it
is unusual. Does it help to know that in this corner of the cavern there is an
opening above? It runs straight up through the hill and opens on clear air, on
starlight and night breezes. When the moon rises you will be able to see it
from here.”