Lokant (21 page)

Pensould...

His voice roared in her
mind.
Do not distract me now!

Tired, saddened and
angry, Llandry at last rebelled. She was not bound to Pensould; if
he no longer wanted her, she was more than happy to go her own way.
She slowed her pace and began to circle downwards, her exhausted
wings screaming for rest. Pensould’s huge blue-scaled form
gradually disappeared into the distance.

She came to rest on the
ground and stayed, motionless, for some time. She felt as if it
would never again be possible to launch her sizeable draykon form
into the sky. How Pensould found the stamina was beyond her.

It wasn’t that she
didn’t understand his rage, though the duration of it alarmed her.
She too suffered enormous discomfort - and guilt - at what they had
witnessed. What rankled the most was that they had arrived too
late; had they reached the grave sooner, they might have been able
to prevent the initial plundering of the beast’s bones. The
skeleton could have been restored instead of broken up and taken
away. How many other draykon graves remained undiscovered? And how
many more had already been stripped bare?

She understood his
urgency. It was only that she, still a fledgling draykon, lacked
the physical strength to keep up with Pensould. And she did wish he
wouldn’t be so very angry with her.

A gust of air buffeted
her and Pensould dropped from the sky. His head snaked out, his
teeth snapping dangerously close to her hide.

When I said “do not
distract me” I did not mean you were free to leave!

Llandry fluffed her
wings in a shrug.

What are you doing? Get
off the ground!

Resting.

There is no time for
rest!

Then do not fly so
fast!
She bared her teeth at him.
I am not coming with
you.

His only response to
that was a roar. She hunched her shoulders against his fury, her
body shaking.

And that is why!
she screamed at him when he’d finished.
I am not owned by you!
You may not abuse me, roar at me and wear me out and then expect me
to remain with you.

He put his face close
to hers and bared his long teeth.
We will rest,
he said
finally.
For a little while.
He bumped her neck with his
nose. Recognising the gesture as an apology, albeit a poor one,
Llandry sighed. When Pensould curled up his large body and tucked
his head under one wing, she arranged her smaller body against his
and hid her eyes. He was maddening; his pleasant moods were
beguiling, but his rages were truly frightening. Would his fits of
anger subside once his quest was achieved? She would give him the
chance to prove himself more pleasant than otherwise; but she
couldn’t allow him to control her.

Having made this
resolution, she fell asleep.

When they went on
again, Pensould set a more sustainable pace. His anger had
dissipated while he slept, and his mood now was more subdued, even
dejected, though his drive remained undiminished. They hunted.
Llandry had not yet grown used to the draykon style of dining; raw
meat was no substitute at all for her mother’s cooking, but she was
hungry enough to eat anything. Pensould gobbled his food, barely
giving her enough time to finish her meal before he drove them on
again. She didn’t know where he was going, but she didn’t trouble
to ask.

At last his onward
flight stopped and he hurtled downwards so fast that she feared he
would drive himself nose-first into the ground. But he landed,
successfully if ungracefully.

Here,
he told
her.
Here!

He was right. A grave
lay beneath the soil, a web of draykon bones pulsing faintly with
energy. Scanning the area, she found no holes in the pattern. To
all appearances, this skeleton was complete.

They had travelled so
far into the realm of Iskyr that Llandry recognised nothing. Gone
were the glissenwol trees of her homeland; they were far beyond
those parts of the realm that corresponded geographically with
Glinnery. She and Pensould stood within a wide plain, carpeted in
feathery silvered grass. Two suns shone in skies stained a deeper
shade of purple than the lavender she often saw. A tiny scaled
creature ran over one of her feet, its long tail lashing with
fright when her head moved. Sigwide bounced down from his station
between her shoulders and ran after it.

Fun,
he
observed. She left him to it. Pensould was aloft again, circling
the plain with powerful strokes of his sweeping wings.

No intruders,
he
reported to her.
We go to work.
He settled near to her again
and turned his attention to the sleeping draykon that rested
beneath their feet. Llandry did the same.

At first she sensed
nothing but the faintest pulse of energy flowing through the bones.
It was enough; some trace of life remained in this somnolent beast.
It was a spark that could be fanned back into a roaring blaze.

But she had to go much
deeper before she felt a flicker of consciousness. Some peripheral
trace of awareness remained as well, not really awareness but
something that had the potential to be. Pensould began calling to
it, plucking and nudging at this whisper of consciousness, trying
to draw it out. She joined her efforts to his, celebrating as
gradually, slowly, she began to sense echoes of the beast’s
mind.

Pensould began pouring
his own energy into the sleeping draykon, turning its faint life
force into a steady flow. Llandry felt its mind snap open. It
recognised their efforts, understood and consented in what they
were trying to do. And it - she - was ferocious in her desire to
awaken.

That was when the pain
began. It gripped Llandry’s body, relentless, the same pain she had
felt when Pensould had awakened near to her. Now she understood
what was happening: the draykon was drawing away her life force,
channelling it into its own regeneration. Beneath her feet, bones
were disappearing under muscle, under scaled hide; a renewed body
was being formed from the vitality of Llandry’s own.

It hurt worse even than
it had last time. At first she couldn’t understand this; she shared
this burden with Pensould, so how could the pain be so
shattering?
But then she remembered. Pensould’s regeneration
had already been largely complete when she had arrived; this
draykon was rebuilding herself entirely.

She gritted her teeth,
trying not to scream. She failed. The scream emerged as an animal
roar, her voice joining Pensould’s, though she heard as much
elation as pain in his cry. An extreme pulse of energy set the
earth shuddering; it cracked under her feet, the earth loosening
itself, preparing to expunge the beast that fought to escape.

The ground erupted and
the draykon rose, shrieking. She was larger than Llandry, her hide
wine-red traced with black. The pain eased now as the draykon
separated herself from the tangled life forces of Llandry and
Pensould. Llandry crouched, panting, waiting for the trembling in
her limbs to stop.

Thank you,
the
new draykon said, her mind-voice crisp.
How long have I been
under?

I am unsure,
Wing-Friend, but that the years number in the thousands I have no
doubt.

Llandry felt the
draykon’s shock.
What? That cannot be.
Her tone became
suspicious.
I do not recognise you, either of you. Are you of
Eterna’s people?

I do not know that
word.

Nor I,
Llandry
added weakly, wishing she had Pensould’s ability to recover.

The war!
The
draykon shrieked the word, her voice rising to a pitch that beat
painfully in Llandry’s brain.
Is it over, then? Is it won? Why
was I not returned sooner?

Llandry felt that
Pensould was as puzzled as she.
What war?

The human war! The
war Eterna swore to win, and we swore to support her until death.
And so I did.
The words were spoken with a ferocity that
chilled Llandry to the core.
This
was not what she had
expected.

Wing-Friend,
Pensould said at last.
Things are not as they were when you and
I last flew. If there was war, it occurred after the day when I
went into the Long Rest. And if the war was with humans as you say,
then it appears that that war was lost by our kind.

Llandry waited, tense,
as Pensould explained the nature of the new world - a world that,
until recently, had not seen draykons in many generations. When
Pensould came to relate the circumstances of Llandry’s own
transformation, the new draykon’s mood changed from disbelieving
dismay to anger.

Half-breed?
Abomination! How could such a thing come to pass?

That is not
known,
Pensould said, his tone placating.
However it
happened, it was not of Llandry’s making. And it is to her that we
owe our renewed existence.

The red draykon circled
Llandry, her hostility still strong. She lashed out with her teeth,
landing a deep bite on Llandry’s shoulder. Screaming with pain and
surprise and anger, Llandry fought back, sinking teeth and claws
deeply into the other draykon’s flesh.

Enough!
Pensould
beat the red draykon back, forcing her aside with sheer size and
muscle. She hissed at him, but at length she subsided.

There remains a
greater enemy,
she conceded. She looked Llandry over
appraisingly.
If this one is in truth a human, she will know
their ways well. She can teach us their weaknesses.

Llandry backed away,
alarmed.
I will do no such thing. Why should you wish to revive
a long-dead war? What is your complaint with humans?

Everything! Your
loyalties are misplaced, fledgling, if you think to defend them. Do
you think them the victims? The war was begun by them, and they did
not stop until they had taken precious Arvale.

This word was
unfamiliar. She was about to say so when a picture formed in her
mind, placed there by the newly-awakened draykon. With a gasp, she
recognised Glinnery.

And then they took
Everum.
Next came an image of a forest Llandry recognised as
Glour.

When they began to look
to Iskyr and Ayrien - when they PRESUMED to impinge on our sacred
spaces - we swore to destroy them all. ETERNA SWORE IT!

Pensould was trying to
soothe her, bathing her with the gentlest of healing energies.
Wing-Friend-

MY NAME IS
ISAND,
she yelled.
AND I AM NOT YOUR WING-FRIEND.

Isand. Calm
yourself.
Pensould kept his voice cool but a note of menace
lurked beneath.
You cannot revive this war. We are too few:
there are but the three of us at present.

At present,
Isand repeated.
We will wake others! We will find Eterna
herself! Arvale and Everum must be taken back! If you will not help
me, I will do it alone.
She bared her teeth.
And deal with
you later.

Isand did not wait for
a response to this. She launched herself into the air and with
several powerful beats of her wings, she was gone.

No!
Unthinking,
Llandry threw herself into the sky after her. She had barely begun
her pursuit before Pensould was on her, driving her back to the
ground.

Minchu, what are you
doing?

What does it look like?
I’m going after her!

To do what?

To stop her! She’s
going to attack Glinnery!

Pensould bit her, not
hard but enough to bring her up short.
How are you going to stop
her?

Llandry flailed,
raging.
You’re going to help me and somehow we’ll persuade her
to give up the idea.
She knew as she spoke that it was
hopeless. Fury like Isand’s could not simply be explained or
persuaded away.

We will think of
something, but for now you must leave her alone. She is not going
to attack Arvale now; she is going to wake more draykon-kind.

More like her.
Llandry hung her head, despairing.

Perhaps. Perhaps also
more like you and me.

Llandry curled herself
up, trying to hide from the world and the problem she now faced.
Her rage and fear cooled quickly; anger did not suit her. She fell
to thinking instead.

Pensould?

He twitched.
Yes.

Why weren’t you upset
about it? About Glinnery. Arvale, I mean. Wouldn’t it have been
draykon territory when you lived?

Pensould didn’t reply
immediately. She felt his sadness as he thought her question
through.

Much changes over
time,
he said at last.
I was sad at the fate of Arvale - of
draykon-kind as a whole - but I accepted it as the result of many
long years passing. I had no way of knowing that it had once been
taken by force.

I find it so hard to
believe,
she returned.
My people are not warmongers. How
could our ancestors have been so different?

Pensould nuzzled her
affectionately.
Things change, Minchu. It can’t be
prevented.

Somebody heaved a sigh.
The sound - undoubtedly a human utterance - came from behind
Llandry.

‘What a mess,’ said a
regretful male voice. She jumped to her feet and spun, bristling.
An elderly man was standing on the edge of the crater that had once
held Isand. His pale blue eyes wandered from Llandry to
Pensould.

‘Miss Sanfaer?’ he
asked, his gaze coming to rest on her. ‘I admit these are not the
circumstances under which I had hoped to meet you, but I am
nonetheless delighted to make your acquaintance.’

Who is this?
Pensould’s voice in her thoughts was sharp.

Not somebody I
recognise.

The man smiled
encouragingly. ‘Perhaps if you put your human shape back on, we
could talk. I take it I am too late to prevent your waking another
draykon?’