64. The last stand
64
THE LAST STAND
A thunderclap echoed as another dragon appeared, high in the air above the city. Under other circumstances, Gwydinion might have wanted to whimper about it, because this was without doubt the largest dragon that Gwydinion had ever seen. Undoubtedly a fire dragon, red with areas of yellow and orange and eyes that glowed like the molten heart of a volcano.
“Who the hell is that?” Claw asked. Several people asked that question, or some other more polite variation of it, at the same time.
“That’s Ivarion!” Gwydinion called out.
The dragon flew down to the rim of the city bowl, scattering the nearby dragons who bowed down or slinked to the side to keep out of the larger dragon’s way.
There was someone on the dragon’s back. Claw leaned forward and then cackled. “No,” she said, “that’s not just Ivarion. That’s Ivarion and Anahrod .”
There was a moment of stunned silence.
Gwydinion ran for the door. A whole lot of people followed him.
Anahrod grinned as she slid down the harness rope from Ivarion’s side. The rope didn’t actually break, but it was a close thing.
[I’ll be right here when you’re done playing,] she told Ivarion, and felt him laugh in response.
The red dragon launched himself back into the air. Since he was very large, all motion in Viridhaven stopped. Debris and dust were hurled through the air by the beating of his wings. Quite a few people, peeking out from the rubble, immediately ducked back down again, but no one tried to attack him.
Anahrod had assumed that Ris had already told them that this dragon, like Peralon, was on their side.
“Now that is a lot of pissed-off lizards,” she told Ris, just before she kissed her. The kiss was made interesting by virtue of the fact that Ris giggled hysterically at the time, but they managed.
“Is everyone all right?” If she sounded worried, it’s only because she was, desperately so.
“Everyone’s fine,” Ris said, although she didn’t quite hide a flinch.
“Everyone I know is fine,” Anahrod corrected.
“Yes,” Ris agreed. “But the whole city is designed to survive dragon attacks. Believe it or not, it looks worse than it is. That is not to say that there were no casualties.”
Anahrod picked up Ris’s hand and kissed it, then tilted her face up toward the sky and the jungle above. She could hear Ivarion responding to the joyous greetings of his fellow dragons.
[I am back through the Grace of Eannis, pausing in my contemplations. And yet how troubled I am to arrive here and see all of you, friends old and new—]
“Eannis,” Anahrod muttered, half in disbelief. “He’s giving a speech.” She corrected herself. “No. I’m wrong. It’s a sermon.” She felt momentarily dizzy.
Ris’s eyes widened. “Ivarion’s… religious?” She blinked at Anahrod rapidly, looking like she couldn’t decide whether to laugh or be completely horrified.
Anahrod couldn’t seem to stop herself from smiling. How embarrassing. “No,” she said, trying to stop giggling. “Not in the least. But they don’t know that. I believe I shall call him Saint Ivarion from now on. All the time, yes.”
“Anahrod!” That was Gwydinion’s voice.
She scanned the stepped streets of the city until she spotted him, waving to catch her attention. It was growing louder with each minute as people tried to find their loved ones.
She ran to Gwydinion, who was sticking close to Claw and Naeron, and she hugged him, picked him up, and spun him around while he sputtered protests.
“You did it, didn’t you?” he asked, grinning. “You found Ivarion, and you woke him?”
Anahrod nodded. “I did. Just like you said.”
He tucked his head and gazed up at her mischievously. “Is he your dragon now?”
She searched his face. Anahrod had been so afraid that he would be jealous, upset with her for getting what he couldn’t. She couldn’t see a single trace of that emotion on his face, just happiness. Happiness for her.
“He is, yes.” She looked him in the eyes. “You’re not upset?”
Her little brother shrugged. “Ask me again in seventeen years, I guess. You had dibs.”
She laughed and ruffled his hair and leaned over and kissed his head while he ducked away and protested. She was so happy she felt like she might burst.
She wanted to do so many things she hardly knew where to start, but Ris tugged on her sleeve and pointed her attention to where people were trying to move rubble and put out fires.
She spent the rest of the day helping where she could, which ended up being a lot of finding animals while Ivarion shamed dragons into helping move rubble. And when he wasn’t doing that, she spotted Ivarion perched on the lip of Viridhaven’s bowl, nuzzling Peralon’s neck and practically vibrating with happiness.
Toward evening, Gwydinion found her again and, extremely excited, dragged her over to an outdoor fire, where she was delighted to find Ris.
And Sicaryon.
“Have you been here all day?” she asked as she slid into place next to him, curled up under his arm.
He was looking very violet, but it had never been an awful color on him, and considering he wasn’t wearing much else, she’d never complain. If she ended up with some mud paint on her clothes, she didn’t care. They were already filthy by that point.
“I have,” he agreed. “We came to help with the dragons, and you know, since I was already here, I thought I might see if I could meet with any of the city leaders and talk trade deals.”
“Oh, you have grown up,” Anahrod told him.
He grinned. “Funny story, though. Everyone keeps pointing me toward this redhead.”
Ris immediately protested, “I’m not in charge. I’m more of an adviser, or a—”
“Figurehead?” Sicaryon suggested gleefully.
“Yes,” Ris said. “Exactly. A figurehead.”
Anahrod bit her lip. She didn’t know whether to laugh or…
“So, if I wanted to discuss reparations with the leader of Viridhaven because—” She paused and glanced skyward. “Oh, this hurts to say. Because I’m the First Rider of Yagra’hai, and several Yagra’hai dragons are guilty of a completely unprovoked attack on your city, would I talk to—?”
“It could be me,” Ris said. “Could be others, too. There’s some flexibility.”
“It’s strange to end up as a head of government,” Sicaryon commented airily. “Becoming a dragonrider. I suppose no weirder than being born into it.” He grinned. “By that token, if I wanted to negotiate some sort of treaty with Yagra’hai—”
Anahrod nodded slowly. “Ivarion, but you could start with me.”
“Sounds like intense negotiations ahead of us,” Sicaryon agreed.
Ris started laughing and tucked her head against Anahrod’s arm. “Could take hours.”
“Days,” Anahrod corrected.
“Weeks, even months,” Sicaryon said.
Anahrod met their smiles with her own. She wasn’t a fool. They wouldn’t find what they were about to do easy, by any means. Groups on every side would fight them, from ambition or greed or misguided fanaticism. Different cultures, different peoples, different races, and no guarantees at all.
She couldn’t wait to get started.