Authors: Joanne Bertin

The Last Dragonlord (21 page)

BOOK: The Last Dragonlord

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“Gods help us! Look up!
Look up!” the sailor in the crow’s nest shouted, pointing into the sun.

Maurynna caught Otter’s eye and grinned. Although she knew what to expect, she looked up into the sky like everyone else, shading her dazzled eyes against the glare of the sun. The arching blueness was empty.

Then she saw him.

A huge red dragon dove at the
Sea Mist
like an arrow out of the blazing sun. The circling gulls made way, screaming their indignation as they hastily retreated.

Cries of mingled surprise, fear, and delight rose from the deck of the
Sea Mist.
Kella and Rann shrieked in excitement and the sailors cheered as they realized who the dragon was. Closer and closer he came, wings spread wide, his scales glittering like rubies.

For one terrifying instant Maurynna thought that Linden had misjudged his flight. But a heartbeat short of crashing into the ship he veered up, skimming over the top of the masts. The Erdon banners snapped out straight as he passed. Those who had thrown themselves to the deck stood up again, sheepishly fending off the good-natured teasing of the others.

“Show-off,” Otter muttered.

Maurynna laughed in sheer delight. Let Linden show off; she could watch him all day, every day. She’d never dreamed of anything so beautiful. He turned and circled the ship. Everyone, passenger and crew alike, watched him, entranced.

A stray thought popped into her mind. She said to Otter, “Raven will be furious when I tell him about this.”

Otter laughed. “He’ll never forgive his father for sending him to fetch that wool from the highlands!” He rubbed his
beard. “Poor Raven. Poor us when we tell him.”

She watched Linden balance on the winds more gracefully than any albatross she’d ever seen. Then he sideslipped through the air and veered east. Maurynna sang out, “Hoist sail! Dragon ho!”

The spell was broken. “Dragon ho!” the crew echoed, laughing. Some of the sailors swarmed up the rigging; others pulled up the anchors holding the ship steady in the waves. The sails bellied out in the gentle wind and the
Sea Mist
rode the waves once more. As the ship got under way, Linden flew slowly along the coast.

Maurynna had never seen her crew work so eagerly. Even the
Sea Mist
seemed to know something wonderful was happening; the small ship took the waves as lightly as a dolphin, joyous and free, alive with the magic of having a dragon for a guide. Any moment now they would sail into a bard’s song where brave warriors and enchanted castles awaited them. She knew they would all treasure this voyage—short as it would be—for the rest of their lives.

Near to bursting with happiness, she took Rann’s hand and said to the others, “Shall we watch from the bow?”

“Good idea,” Otter said, and took Rann’s other hand. Together they helped the young prince walk the rolling deck. Tasha followed, walking carefully. Maylin and Kella brought up the rear, negotiating the deck with ease.

“Ah,” Maylin said smugly to Maurynna’s puzzled look, “we Vanadins are born with sea legs.”

Maurynna snorted. “A good trick that, seeing as how the Vanadins have always been dirt huggers,” she teased.

But Maylin just smiled, refusing to be baited.

They lined the railing along the bow. Rann looked nervously down at the waves as Otter lifted him so that he could see over the rail.

“Don’t worry, boy—ah, Your Highness. I won’t let you fall,” Otter said.

Rann frowned.

Maurynna hid a smile at Otter’s slip of the tongue. Then she stared out over the sea, watching the easy rise and fall of
Linden’s wings as he flew above the turquoise water, listening to the conversation around her with half an ear.

“You nearly called him ‘boyo,’ didn’t you, Otter?” Kella said. “Like you call Linden.”

Rann said, “You call Linden Rathan ‘boyo’? He lets you?”

“I’d wondered about that, Otter,” Maylin said. “It’s odd, you know. Leaving aside the question of his rank, he’s much older than you.”

The bard answered, “Yes indeed, Prince Rann, Linden lets me call him ‘boyo.’ And as for your question, Maylin, it’s what I called him when I first met him; remember, I had no idea who he was then. It’s become a joke between us now.”

A silence, and then Rann said, “Bard Otter, would you call me ‘boyo,’ too?”

“As you wish—boyo,” said Otter gently.

Maurynna turned in time to see the bard ruffle the little prince’s hair. The boy grinned, revealing a missing front tooth.
Just like Linden indeed.
She looked away to hide her smile and was once more caught in the magic that was the Dragonlord’s.

“I wonder,” she said half to herself as she leaned on the rail, “what it must be like to fly. To cast yourself onto the wind and soar away.” She wished she could. But that was for Dragonlords, not for the likes of her.

Still,
she thought
wistfully, it must be wonderful.

As if by chance, certain of Prince Peridaen’s supporters drifted away from the group of musicians playing in Lady Montara’s gardens. The prince himself stayed, listening with apparent enjoyment to the music arranged for his entertainment this day.

They gathered by a large topiary peacock as they had been ordered to. Some looked bored—or tried to; others openly fidgeted, looking nervously about, shifting from foot to foot, breaking twigs from the leafy bird and shredding the leaves as they waited.

When the contagion of unease had spread throughout the whole group, Anstella decided it was time. None of them
would meet her eyes as she wandered artlessly among the topiary zoo, drawing ever closer.

At last she joined them. One or two faces blanched. Someone had the poor judgement to speak first. “Anstella—”

Her gaze raked them like a snow cat’s claws and her voice dripped acid into the wounds. “Silence. I hope the lot of you can do at least that correctly.”

They shrank into themselves.

“You were sent word that, once Duriac and Chardel came to blows, you were to provoke even more disturbances. Instead you meekly obeyed a Dragonlord—one of those you are sworn to destroy!—like the sheep you are. And all because he raised his voice. Gods help me, if he’d shouted ‘Boo!’ would you have all died of fright?” she sneered.

“He outranks us,” someone said. Others murmured agreement.

Anstella snapped, “Only because cowards like you allow it! Most Dragonlords weren’t even born noble, let alone royal; who are they to dictate to us? Truehumans should be ruled over by truehumans—not creatures born of an unholy and unnatural perversion of wild magic!”

She surveyed her victims, letting them writhe under her silence as they had under her scorn. When she judged the moment right, she said, “The
next
time …”

She turned and walked away.

Linden flew easily along the coast, enjoying the feel of the ocean air rippling over his scales, looking back now and again to make certain he didn’t out-distance the
Sea Mist.
But the ship sailed bravely after him. She was a pretty little thing, he thought, with her blue sails and silver-and-green banners. The stylized eyes painted on her bow gave her a knowing look, though whether by design or chance, one “eyebrow” arched higher than the other so that the
Sea Mist also
had an air of being somewhat surprised.

The hot sun on his back felt good. And soon he would be with Maurynna once more, this time far from the prying eyes in Casna. A pity that they couldn’t be here alone. Ah, well;
it was likely for the best. He hoped Rann would enjoy this day; he doubted the boy had ever had a chance to do something so spontaneous.

He’s likely never had much chance just to be a boy.

He flew on for more than three candlemarks before the curve of the headlands came into view. Below him waves crashed white-crested over rocks beneath the surface; the
Sea Mist
would have to stand well out to sea. But there were gaps between the rocks where the water ran smoother. He studied them, finally picking out one that looked more than wide enough for the ship’s boat.

He balanced on the wind, holding his position before the opening, and reached out for Otter’s mind.

Here. Tell Maurynna that there is a way here for the ship’s boat to pass. The ship itself should not come any closer, though.

She’s already said as much, boyo; remember, she can read waves the way you can the winds. The crew is making the gig ready now. Is there really a beach in there?

Yes. I think Rann will enjoy this. A pity you can’t sing up a merling or two for him.
He felt Otter laugh in his mind and let the contact fade, concentrating on keeping his place above the break in the rocks.

He watched the flurry of activity on board the
Sea Mist:
sailors loading baskets into the boat, then finally the boat—
not “boat”—“gig,” Otter called it
—itself being lowered over the side. Some of the sailors slid down the lines at bow and stern to the waiting gig. Two of them caught the lines, keeping the small vessel close alongside the
Sea Mist.
A third steadied the end of the rope ladder tossed down from the bulwarks above as the rest took up stations at the oars.

Then one by one the picnickers climbed down. Maurynna came down first, as confident as any of the sailors. Maylin was next, a little slower, but without hesitation. Otter’s descent was slow and cautious; he looked nervous as he made his way to his place. As soon as he was seated the bard unslung his harp case from his back and clutched it to his chest as if he feared the waves would snatch it from him. Both
Kella and Rann came down on the backs of sailors who scrambled back up the ladder after depositing their precious cargoes. Healer Tasha came last of all. She descended slowly and carefully, but when she took her seat she smiled, as though proud she’d made it without falling overboard.

The one flaw in his plan finally made itself known to Linden. Cursing himself for an idiot, he mindcalled Otter.

Tell Maurynna to mark where the passage is below me. I’ve just realized that I can’t stay in dragon form much longer. I daren’t Change when she’s too close—the gods only know what might come of it. It might even be enough to trigger a too early First Change because we’re soultwins.

He watched as Otter spoke with Maurynna and wondered what excuse the bard gave her for the sudden change in plans. Then Maurynna stood up in the gig, and, shading her eyes, studied the coast. After a few minutes she sat once more and the gig cast off from the
Sea Mist;
he took it to mean that she had plotted a course and wheeled away.

He crossed the cove quickly, straining to keep as much distance as possible between them. Even before his claws touched the white sand he initiated Change. Moments later he landed, human once more.

Gods, but it was hot. He stripped off his tunic, then, as an afterthought, his boots and linen stockings. Dressed only in breeches, he waded along the beach, impatient for the others to arrive. To distract himself he looked for seashells to give the children when they landed.

At last the gig hove into sight. He watched nervously as the sailors threaded a way through the rocks jutting up from the water like fangs, Maurynna calling directions from the bow. Oar stroke by steady oar stroke the small craft drew closer.

When they were nearly to the shore the sailors shipped the oars, jumped into the surf, and ran the gig up onto the shore. Linden caught Rann as the excited prince hurled himself out of the gig.

“Easy there, lad,” he said, laughing, and swung the boy onto his shoulders. He helped Kella next, then Maylin and
Tasha. Otter handed him the harp and clambered out.

As he returned the harp, a burst of activity swirled around him and he lost track of Maurynna. Sailors ran back and forth bearing mysterious armloads of poles, canvas, and ropes as well as the expected baskets of food and drink.

The mystery was quickly resolved. Minutes later an awning shaded a section of the beach. As the sailors hammered in the last few stakes, Maurynna appeared at his side, saying, “I thought we might want a bit of shade, so I had the lads bring along an old sail. Not all of us are used to so much sun.”

He caught her hand and squeezed it gratefully. Thank the gods she’d thought of that; it wouldn’t do to bring Rann back burned redder than an apple and sick with too much sun. As for him, he hadn’t had to worry about such things since he’d Changed for the first time. He’d forgotten others had to.

He released her hand when he noticed her crew slyly watching and nudging each other. He heard one whisper, “Remember that dockhand I told you about? That’s ’im!”

Best not to set too many tongues wagging.
A glance told him she’d noticed the grins as well; her cheeks were red under her dark tan.

“Off with you,” she told her crew sternly. “We’ll signal when we’re ready to return.”

BOOK: The Last Dragonlord

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