Chapter 28 #2
Not too gravely injured to fly, the red dragon soared over the pillar and toward the laboratory. Was it Syla’s imagination or did Wreylith give the place where she’d mated with Agrevlari a scathing look?
No longer denied by a barrier, Wreylith landed in the middle of the laboratory. She showed her fangs as she glowered around the place, then growled at the destroyed weapons along the rock wall. And was that also a hiss of displeasure? Did dragons hiss?
Too bad Vorik was gone so Syla couldn’t discuss their peculiarities with him.
“I’m glad you’re well,” she said when Wreylith finished glowering and growling and looked at her.
Never had she thought that her quest would endanger the mighty dragon. Had Syla the ability to hiss with suitable vitriol, she might also have directed such venom at the remains of the weapons.
This day has been abysmal, Wreylith boomed into their minds.
“Because of, uhm…” Syla looked but did not point to the top of the pillar. She imagined Agrevlari was chuffed about his encounter, but he’d wisely not stuck around to sing ballads to Wreylith.
For many reasons. Wreylith bared her fangs again, giving the laboratory a second sound glowering.
Finally, her gaze settled on the weapons platform. Did she know it had ultimately helped her?
“It didn’t turn out how I was hoping either.” Syla slumped back against a clump of crystals.
Discussing dragon peculiarities wasn’t the only reason she wished Vorik were around. Since he’d flown off surrounded by his allies, she wouldn’t get another chance to retrieve the components from him.
My fault, she thought glumly.
You proved apt and capable, Wreylith surprised her by saying.
“I got caught up in trying to slay my enemies and let their minions skulk off with the shielder components.” Syla didn’t know if the dragon had figured that out yet—or even cared—but she hated to admit it.
The drive to slay one’s enemies is very difficult to overcome.
“I usually don’t have a problem. I’m a healer. I’m not supposed to want to slay anyone.” Syla looked bleakly at the ground, ashamed.
What had happened to her? She wanted to help her people but not by becoming a killer. That was everything she stood against.
Queen Erasbella slew more than a few enemies. You are not so unlike her as I first believed.
“Thanks,” Syla murmured, trying to be heartened.
Coming from Wreylith, it was quite the compliment.
You also assisted me today in escaping the mad god’s wrath. Wreylith would probably never admit that she’d been in true peril or that Syla—technically, the platform—had saved her life. Who would have thought such power could linger so many centuries after he left this realm?
“I knew there would be dangers here but not that they would threaten dragons.”
Few things do, but even our kind haven’t the power to stave off the wrath of the gods.
Syla didn’t know if the storm god had been wrathful or simply, as her mythology taught, mad.
You have proven yourself today. Before, I never would have considered bonding with one with no martial prowess and who thought to sit astride a dragon’s tail instead of her back.
“That was an emergency situation, and I was clutching it, not sitting on it.”
You are interrupting me.
“Sorry. Go on.”
Wreylith gazed at her, perhaps deciding if she should continue. What had she intended to say? Was she debating something?
To the side, Teyla had paused in examining everything to raise her eyebrows with curiosity. Overhead, an orange-scaled dragon flew into view. Igliana had returned. She settled on the pillar, probably not knowing it had been used as a dragon rendezvous point an hour before, and watched from afar.
If you are willing to continue to improve your abilities to fight and defend yourself so that you will not be a hindrance in battle, I am willing to bond with you and assist you with protecting your kingdom.
“Bond?” Syla mouthed, stunned.
All she’d hoped for was that Wreylith would help with this quest and, now that it was over and Syla had failed, take her home.
You are familiar with the word and what it entails when related to dragons and riders?
“I know something of the relationship that Agrevlari and Vorik have.” In truth, she knew very little and wished she’d asked him more. How had he met Agrevlari? What had made the green dragon decide to link magically with him instead of only allowing him to ride?
Agrevlari! Smoke wafted out of Wreylith’s nostrils as she growled.
Maybe Syla shouldn’t have mentioned him.
“Will you, ah, not be seeing him again?”
He took advantage of the magical randiness flung about by those flowers.
“He was probably as much under their influence as you were. As we all were.” Syla didn’t look at Fel and Teyla, not wanting to embarrass them, and only touched her own chest.
You are randy all the time with the rider captain. You must have enjoyed your encounter.
“Er, it wasn’t… unpleasant.” Speaking of embarrassment, Syla’s cheeks warmed. She’d thought the dragons too distracted with their own joining to be aware of what went on below. “I’m sorry if your encounter was less pleasant. At least he didn’t sing during it.”
Wreylith issued a noise close to a harumph. Dragons were proving to have a greater vocal range than Syla had realized.
It wasn’t loathsome, Wreylith said. But I did not initiate it. I contemplated biting off his head afterward, but you’d disappeared into the laboratory by then.
“And you were worried about me?” Syla asked, catching Fel mouthing, “Biting off his head?”
I was concerned that if you died, nobody would arrange the delivery of the agreed-upon livestock.
“That would be terrible. You’ve worked hard and deserve those horn hogs.”
Yes. Step forward and raise your hand. We will bond.
“Now? Is there a ceremony? Anything I have to do?”
The domesticated dragons allow the humans to get naked and chant and sing and paint themselves while their wing mates watch.
What a cacophony. It is not necessary. More, it is foolish, since the stormer riders then wear gloves to hide the mark of the dragon, lest others know of their enhanced powers.
Wreylith squinted at Syla as she stepped forward, stopping a few feet in front of the dragon.
You will not hide your mark. All will know that you have bonded with me, and, if they are wise, they will bring me offerings.
As Syla raised her hand, nerves fluttered in her belly. “Will I have to do anything? Besides mentioning to my people that you are agreeable to accepting offerings?”
The bond will allow me to pass through the sky shield on whatever island you stand upon, and I may hunt while you go about your day.
“And that’s all you want out of the deal?”
Should I need it, you will assist me, just as I will assist you. Wreylith lifted her forelimb, showing the faint scar that remained in her foot from her encounter with a basilisk fang.
“That’s fair.”
Yes. The other hand. The mark of a dragon may not supersede the mark of a god.
“Oh.” The nerves returned as Syla lifted her birthmark-free hand.
It didn’t help that more smoke wafted from Wreylith’s nostrils. She told herself that Vorik’s mark was a tattoo, not a burn scar. Wreylith wasn’t about to light her on fire.
She’d no sooner had the thought than the red dragon’s maw parted, and flames appeared in the back of her throat.
Syla’s instincts told her to leap away, but she rooted her feet into the ground.
She didn’t turn her face away or close her eyes though that fang-filled maw was a terrifying sight.
Something told her she had to be brave right now and show that she trusted Wreylith.
Yes, the dragon said as if reading her thoughts. Did she sound amused?
Before Syla could contemplate it further, blue-tinged yellow fire flowed out from between Wreylith’s jaws.
“Syla!” Teyla blurted in alarm. From the side, she must not have seen the building flames.
Surprisingly, they were only warm, not inferno-hot, as dragon fire usually was.
The coloring was strange, almost a rainbow as the flames danced all around Syla.
The heat grew warmer, especially on the back of her left hand, and magic tingled and made her skin itch, almost burning it. She gritted her teeth.
“Syla?” came Fel’s uncertain voice.
Through the flames, he was visible with his trusty mace.
“It’s all right,” she said. “I’m still alive.”
“You’re smoking.”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Much. Long seconds passed with her hand burning, but Syla didn’t step back, for she also felt power flowing into her, the power of the dragon. It coursed through her veins, mingling with the magic of her gods-gift, making her feel vital and alive.
Now you will not need a tool to reach out to me, Wreylith said. You may use your power to speak into my mind across many miles when you wish to barter for assistance that takes me from an engaging hunt.
That’ll be handy.
Wreylith snorted and lifted her head, the flames dying out.
“Her clothes,” Teyla blurted.
“Are you sure you’re not injured?” Fel said with a glower toward the dragon.
Wreylith bared her fangs at him.
Fel bared his teeth at her.
Unconcerned, Wreylith made a chuffing sound that might have been a laugh. You will ride back with Igliana, bodyguard. Her youth makes her more tolerant of your human quirks.
Feeling a warm desert breeze whispering through the canyon and across her chest, Syla looked down. She was nude. Wreylith had incinerated her clothes.
“This must be why the stormers get naked for their ceremonies,” she murmured and lifted her hand.
The skin was warm and inflamed, as if she’d received a wound, but the pain had lessened with the disappearance of the flames. And a bright red dragon tattoo now marked the back of her hand. There was no mistaking that it was Wreylith.
“It’s beautiful,” Syla said.
Yes, Wreylith said. Are you ready to fly to your home? My stomach craves horn-hog meat.
Syla dreaded returning empty-handed to the mess on Castle Island, where the ambitious souls vying for the throne might already have established a hold, and she especially regretted not acquiring the shielder components.
What would she tell her aunt? Or the lord of Harvest Island?
She would have to find a way to get those components back from the stormers. One way or another.
You will not return empty-handed. Wreylith looked at the tattoo. You will have a dragon to help you.
Syla smiled. That would be exciting. “Can you incinerate my enemies for me?”
Certainly. Just point them out.
Syla doubted it would be that easy, but maybe…
“Are you counting Relvin as an enemy?” Teyla asked.
“It depends on how many gossipy and insulting newspaper articles he’s published in my absence.”
“Well, we’ve only been gone a few days, so probably not that many.”
It felt like it had been much longer.
“Let’s just see what’s happening when we return,” Syla asked. “I’m ready, Wreylith.”
Excellent. Fresh meat awaits.