Chapter 24
When Rylana had volunteered to grab her weapons and go along with Jildarin, she hadn’t expected to end up riding through the dark night on his back.
But as soon as they’d passed the last of the pillars at the city’s edge, he’d changed into his dragon form and instructed her to get on.
Once she’d figured out how, which had involved him deigning to lower his belly to the ground and a feat of athleticism on her part, she’d been grinning ever since.
Taking off had been exhilarating, if a touch alarming since there was nothing to hold on to on a dragon. She’d nearly slipped off and landed on his wing before flattening to her belly and draping her arms over the curve of his back.
Her bow and quiver were on her own back, the tranquility ribbon threaded through her arrows to hold them in place the only thing keeping them from flying out.
Her sword was similarly secured in the scabbard on her belt, and she was glad she hadn’t removed the ribbons as soon as they’d left the city.
“I see why elves became your allies during the war,” Rylana said as the stars spread out above, a half-moon shining down upon what soon turned from farmlands around the city to forests stretching out from the foothills of the mountains.
Some areas near roads had been cut to supply lumber for Tranquility, but they soon flew over virgin forests, the great evergreens creating a canopy that appeared like a carpet from above.
When she looked back, the view was even more striking, for the warm glowing lights of the city were visible along the shore of Lumi Lake, which, thanks to its magical life within, also glowed, soft blues and greens making the water visible even from high above and miles away. “This is amazing.”
Elves have been allies of dragons for many, many centuries, Jildarin said telepathically, his powerful wings flapping as he gained in altitude.
The snow-covered peaks of the Icefangs dominated the night sky ahead, but he turned to parallel the mountains instead of continuing toward them.
They are more akin to dragons than to other two-legs.
They do not seek to deplete the world of its natural resources.
“And they don’t try to shoot dragons in the eye?”
They are not so unwise as to attempt that.
“I figured.” The implication that humans were inferior in the opinions of dragons couldn’t squelch Rylana’s enthusiasm for riding on Jildarin's back and experiencing the world from high above.
As beautiful as the moonlit night was, she hoped she might one day get the opportunity to ride on his back when the sun was up.
How beautiful the landscape would be in even more detail.
As Jildarin continued south, the lake and city disappeared from view behind them.
Here and there, campfires burned, or a light or two from a woodland homestead broke up the forest, but overall, Rylana felt like they had vast privacy as they flew.
She reveled in the cool spring breeze riffling through her hair and the fresh scents of the pines, spruces, and cedars filling her nostrils.
“Is this where you harvested your spruce tips?” she asked, amused, though he’d probably purchased them at a market.
I was told that a goblin forager selected those, plucking them from the healthiest of trees with the most choice of branches.
“Or maybe just the branches he could reach.”
Before she was ready, Jildarin stretched his silver wings wide and glided downward.
In the center of a meadow, a great gray pillar of a rock with a mushroom-cap top rose as high as the trees around it.
Rylana recognized the spot, having visited it with a neighbor’s family that she’d gone camping with in her youth.
“We call that Toadstool Rock,” she said.
Somewhat ignoble, considering there is magic within it. Jildarin descended, not landing on the top of the rock formation, as she thought he might, but in the meadow beside it. Fresh grass and clover spread across the ground, damp with dew.
Though it was past midnight, Rylana didn’t see any dragons and thought they’d departed.
Then she spotted someone and sat up with a start.
A voluptuous woman with lush blonde hair that gleamed in the moonlight stood at one end of the clearing.
A flowing dress emphasized her full curves, and she looked toward Jildarin with striking eyes like liquid silver, no hint of fear stiffening her body.
She held something up in her hands like an offering. Two small sacks tied with twine.
“That looks like a trap to me,” Rylana said.
Indeed. I also sense another dragon in the area.
“Another? Does that mean she’s one?”
She is one of the sisters.
“Why did she turn into a human when we’re miles and miles from Tranquility’s border?”
Despite Rylana’s warning that it might be a trap, and the reservations he had to have, Jildarin didn’t depart.
He’d landed in the shadow of the rock pillar and turned to face the beautiful woman.
No, the dragon currently taking the appearance of a beautiful woman.
So striking was she that if she and Sylin had been walking down the street, she might have gotten all the men’s looks.
The woman’s gaze shifted from Jildarin to Rylana, and a frown compressed her full lips.
“Who are you?” she asked, her tone hard, not matching her youthful beauty.
“I’m the bookkeeper. Who are you?”
“Who are you that presumes to ride upon the back of a mighty dragon? You are not even elven.”
“A tragedy, I’m sure.” Rylana slid off Jildarin's back to land in the dewy grass.
She serves me, Jildarin stated telepathically. I am not displeased to see you, Loxvonla, and I am interested in that which you carried all these miles.
He remained in his dragon form, slitted eyes shifting from the woman to the sacks that she held.
Since he was in his native form, her human beauty presumably wouldn’t do anything to entice him or affect how he bargained with her, and Rylana wondered again why she’d turned into a human.
Surely, more than because dragons lacked pockets, and it was easier to hold bags of spices with fingers than talons.
After all, she had to have traveled here as a dragon.
I am pleased that you are pleased, Jildarin-grozanarav. She’d switched to telepathy, and her voice was more musical mentally than aloud—though maybe that was because she was speaking to Jildarin now instead of Rylana.
Since the woman was focused on him, Rylana took a couple of steps back and slid her bow off so she could string it and work out the knot of the tranquility ribbon. In the city, its magic would have made it difficult to remove, but out here, it was a mere knot.
I understand you have use for the dried and powdered forms of the fungi and herbs that grow in our caves, the female—Loxvonla—continued. I propose a trade.
While she spoke, a winged shadow crossed over the meadow. Rylana looked up as a huge black dragon alighted on the top of Toadstool Rock. It—she?—also had silver eyes that glowed in the moonlight, visible when her head lowered and she peered down at them.
Jildarin had been aware of the other dragon’s approach, and he didn’t react in any way to what Rylana presumed was another sister above them. Perched on, Rylana’s mercenary mind couldn’t help but note, the high ground.
Be wary, Jildarin whispered into her mind, and she believed the words were only for her. Female dragons are very powerful.
Oh, I know, she thought back, trusting he would hear her words. But you’re powerful too, right?
There are two of them.
Does that mean I should run if they attack? Or take cover behind a tree and shoot them to help you?
Jildarin's head swung around, and he looked at Rylana, but Loxvonla cleared her throat, drawing his attention back to her.
What do you desire in trade? Jildarin asked, but he sounded like he already knew.
We offer what you want, the new arrival said telepathically, her voice booming with her innate power, in exchange for you.
Rylana didn’t catch her meaning at first, but the way Jildarin stiffened suggested he had.
You seek to mate, he said.
With you, yes, Loxvonla said.
With he who slew many enemies and displayed great prowess during the war, the dragon above added. He whose strong blood must be, for the good of our people, passed on to the offspring of the next generation.
The woman looked up at the black dragon—at her sister. Did you not say it was his striking silver scales, powerful musculature, and sleek symmetry that made you desire him as a mate?
It is not only those attributes, else his brother might have sufficed. But he survived the attacks of many soldiers, the traps of those who sought to destroy our kind, and even a betrayal that should have resulted in his death.
He is blessed by the gods.
Such a blessing might be passed along to his offspring.
Rylana had readied her bow and shifted to untying a few of the arrows knotted to each other and the strap of her quiver.
The tenseness of Jildarin's body, his rigid tail straight out behind him, and the irritated power emanating from him all warned her that he didn’t care for their proposition.
She didn’t know if he felt he needed the spices badly enough that he would agree to it anyway, but the cold looks that the sisters kept pointing toward Rylana promised her that she was in danger.
Maybe it would have been wiser to stay in the city and let a dragon deal with other dragons on his own.
You will cease speaking about me as if I am not here. Jildarin growled, his muscles bunching under his scales.
You will mate first with Foxvonla, Loxvonla said. It is her fertile time, but I will also be ready for you afterward. Who knows when the gods may surprise a female with eggs? I will give the spices to your servant to hold. After you’ve satisfied us, you may depart with them and with her.