Chapter 26 #2
“I have other desirable attributes.” Vorik gave the chieftess a dazzling smile.
Not looking dazzled, Atilya told Syla, “I’m almost regretful that all my people weren’t there to witness and help in your battle with the storm-god-possessed General Jhiton and his dragon allies, but I am glad that you were able to handle the situation with aplomb on your own.
I suspected you had the ability to deal with your enemies without our help, and I thought your reign would be more secure—that more people would believe you deserved the position—if you managed on your own. ”
“I wasn’t entirely without help.” Syla nodded toward Fel and squeezed Vorik’s hand. “And the gods gave me tools to facilitate protecting my people.”
“The gods give us all tools; not everyone uses them to their fullest.” Atilya pointed to the floating dock that her people had anchored beyond the barrier.
A blue dragon and an orange dragon were alighting there as two of her people kayaked out to it.
“Igliana mentioned that she would like to attend your wedding. Will dragons be allowed?”
“I… had planned to have it in the castle courtyard. That’s customary.”
“The stormers might be more inclined to come if it’s on a ship. And then you could have all kinds of dragons flying about, flinging fish at you.”
“Pardon?”
“Stormer tradition,” Vorik said. “Well, actually more of a dragon tradition that we’ve adopted into our culture, especially for riders who are bonded with one of their kind.
They often deliver offerings of game and fish to mating ceremonies, thus to ensure the new couple has plenty to eat and can focus on procreation for a time. ”
“Perhaps Igliana and those dragons who are curious could simply fly over the castle while we’re having our ceremony,” Syla murmured.
“While dropping fish from above the barrier?” Vorik raised his eyebrows.
“It wouldn’t be the first time a dragon has dropped something edible into the courtyard. I can have someone with a platter stand out there.”
Atilya looked over their heads.
Syla sensed Wreylith and Agrevlari approaching.
Though the green dragon had been able to come and go since Syla and Vorik had joined in the shielder chamber, Agrevlari hadn’t departed that many times of late.
He was sticking around, bringing offerings to Wreylith, and they’d frequently been seen flying around the island together.
“This is a new start to your kingdom, isn’t it?” Atilya asked. “A new future for humanity.”
“I hope so,” Syla said.
Atilya nodded at her, then headed back to her people.
The time of laying approaches, Wreylith announced.
“Oh,” Syla blurted. “I’ll get my medical kit.”
“You’re going to be involved with that?” Fel asked.
“She’s assured me that a dragon does not need a human’s help in laying eggs, but I promised I’d be there with my medical kit, just in case.”
Wreylith plucked up Syla while Agrevlari flew close enough for Vorik to leap onto his back. Together, the dragons flew toward the cave under the castle.
“I wasn’t envisioning that I would be involved with the egg laying,” Vorik called over to Syla.
“You’re the bonded human of the father. Aren’t you expected to bring an offering?”
“I have two jars of chocolate hazelnut butter left over, but dragons don’t generally want sweets.”
“You can give them to me. I find myself craving interesting things lately.”
“Like turtle eggs?”
“No. More like sweets. We should visit Celena in her bakery later. To make sure her new career is off to a good start.”
“And stock up your pantry for the winter with delectable goods?”
“Oh, yes. I expect I’ll want those often.”
With Vorik trailing her, Syla hurried from the royal suite down to Wreylith’s lair with her medical kit and A Guide to Chicken Anatomy and Egg Laying.
She’d tucked her finger into the book to hold a page with a diagram.
Despite Wreylith’s numerous assertions that dragons were nothing like chickens, lizards, or any other inferior egg-laying creature, Syla had wanted some kind of reference material that might clue her in if Wreylith needed help.
Unfortunately, there hadn’t been any books in the library on dragon anatomy.
She supposed their kind rarely passed where scientists could gain access to the body for a necropsy.
“You probably won’t need to do anything,” Vorik assured her as they entered the laboratory-turned-lair. “Dragons are inherently magical beings.”
“You think magic ensures everything will go smoothly? You’ve mentioned before that dragons can have digestive issues if they don’t get enough fiber.
That implies they’re as prone to health maladies as the rest of us, and Wreylith said that because of her age…
” The dragon had come into view, so Syla lowered her voice, not certain her winged comrade would appreciate her maturity being discussed.
“She’s a little old for this, I understand.
As she’s informed me, she doesn’t need the assistance of a human, but… she did ask that I be present.”
“For moral support, only, I’m certain.”
“Let’s hope.”
Wreylith turned toward them. She was walking—almost squatting—as she maneuvered around the back of the cave.
To get things started? She hadn’t allowed Agrevlari to come in, saying this wasn’t a matter for males, though she didn’t forbid Vorik’s presence.
Maybe the great and powerful Wreylith hadn’t wanted her mate to witness her in a vulnerable state.
“I brought my medical kit.” Syla lifted it to show her as they approached.
I am certain that will not be necessary. What is that book?
Syla shifted it so the title wouldn’t be visible. “Just some reading material for me in case this takes a while.” She stopped by one of the workstations, opening it to the held page so the diagram would be easy to reference if anything happened. “Do dragons have an infundibulum?”
The look that Wreylith leveled at Syla, her golden eyes flaring with inner light and power, was a touch baleful. Is that a book on chickens?
“I’m reading titles related to animal husbandry,” Syla said, “since I’ve promised someone that I’ll start a horn-hog farm nearby.”
I am certain that horn hogs do not have the internal apparatuses necessary for egg laying.
“No, but I’ll want to have a variety of livestock on the farm, thus to satisfy the varied desires of my dragon ally.”
Wreylith issued what Syla thought was more of a grumble than a growl and turned away from them to continue what looked like an uncomfortable walk.
Before long, she headed for a nest she’d made out of seaweed, driftwood, and the smashed-up remains of some of the storm god’s artifacts and statuary.
It didn’t look comfortable in the least to Syla, but dragons didn’t seem to crave warmth and softness the way humans did.
“Is that a wyvern head sticking out of the side of her nest?” Vorik murmured, leaning his elbows on the workstation Syla had chosen.
They should have brought a couple of chairs down, but Wreylith might have objected to humans creating a waiting room in her lair.
“Half of one, I think,” Syla said.
“I wouldn’t want to rest my butt on that horn.”
“You’re not a dragon.”
“Thankfully, no.”
“I’ve taken their preferences into consideration for my latest formulation.
” Syla opened her medical kit and pulled out one of several jars, the substances within emanating magic.
Though her duties as the queen kept her busy, she’d found time to work on her latest hobby, imbuing known medicinal substances with her power.
You have not brought slimy substances to my lair, have you? Wreylith skewered both of them with her golden-eyed gaze again.
Vorik lifted his hands in innocence.
“I’ve created a few tinctures and salves that distinctly aren’t slimy. They’re astringent, dry quickly, and sting like necrotizing fasciitis.”
Vorik raised his eyebrows.
“Flesh-eating disease,” Syla translated, though his eyebrows remained up, so maybe that wasn’t what he’d been curious about. “I asked Igliana what kind of salve would make a dragon comfortable,” she added.
“And that’s what she suggested?”
“Apparently, something with an enjoyable sting is appealing.” Syla gestured to the wyvern-statue horn in the nest.
“Interesting. Agrevlari hasn’t mentioned desiring sting. He loves to sun his belly and be rocked in the sea by gentle waves. He seems to like the same types of comforts that I do.”
He is male, Wreylith said, as if that explained everything, and gave a dismissive tail flick before rotating and shifting in her nest. The first egg comes.
Vorik picked up one of the jars. “I can sense this one is more magical than the others. It even has a feel of… I don’t know… dragonness about it.”
“Yes. I…” Syla glanced at Wreylith, but she appeared distracted, fangs on display as she grunted and shifted about, glowering at a wall.
“I found some magical tools and ground up her discarded scales from when she was shedding, then mixed the powder into a known formulation for a healing tincture. It’s a bit of an experiment to see if it enhances the medicinal qualities. ”
“Huh. Maybe it will. Dragon magic is powerful.”
Disgruntled growls emanated from Wreylith, and Syla worried that the process wasn’t going well, but when she stood to peek into the nest, she spotted the first egg. A faintly glowing golden oval, it was much larger than any egg Syla had ever seen.
“Oh, that’s wonderful,” she breathed.
Wreylith growled, shifting and probably trying to lay the next one. It might be some time before she could appreciate her future offspring.
“I think it’s wonderful anyway,” Syla said, then asked Vorik, “How many eggs do dragons lay at a time?”
“Usually only a couple, but I’ve heard of up to seven or eight, and your Wreylith is magnificent, so I would expect her to produce a high number of quality eggs.”
I do not object to your marriage to that one, Wreylith said. He is appropriately respectful of dragons.
“Agrevlari has taught me how to honor your kind.” Vorik inclined his head toward her.
I would think Ozlemar a more likely instructor and disciplinarian.
“He’s taught me when it’s a good idea to avoid your kind,” Vorik said.
“It seems like it would always be a good idea to avoid him,” Syla said.
Vorik nodded at her. “Unless you are like my brother and enjoy pain.” He picked up one of the jars she’d pointed out as astringent and stinging. “If you ever need to give him a present, he might like this.”
“He’s not on my gift list.”
“How strange.”
Wreylith grunted and circled in the nest again, careful not to step on the first egg, though it looked like it would be sturdy. Was that slight magic that already emanated from it? It was hard to tell around her powerful aura.
“This is less dramatic than I expected,” Syla admitted after a time. “Human women often scream and clench things while cursing their husbands for getting them with child.”
“Are you planning to do that?” Vorik glanced at her abdomen.
“It is tradition, but I would have to curse the gods, since they were behind things.”
“I did play some small role,” he said.
“Your role was magnificent.” She leaned forward to kiss him, but Wreylith startled her with a roar. A great gout of fire streamed forth, bathing the wall, splitting rock, and spreading heat that they felt at the other end of the laboratory.
“You said you wanted something more dramatic?” Vorik asked dryly.
A second egg has been laid, Wreylith stated.
In the end, there were eight, and the fortunately sturdy stone wall was bathed in fire several more times. Looking exhausted, Wreylith settled onto her nest.
You may inform Agrevlari that the eggs were successfully laid, she said, glancing toward Vorik. When they hatch, if there are any males, perhaps I will allow him to name them. They are, after all, inferior.
“He’ll be delighted,” Vorik said, not commenting on the rest.
“Can I get you anything, Wreylith?” Syla closed the chicken book, relieved she hadn’t needed to assist with stuck eggs or anything else daunting. “Are you sore from passing all those? Do you want a soothing salve?” She smiled, not expecting the dragon to accept.
A trickle of smoke wafted from Wreylith’s nostrils as she looked over. At least her eyes had stopped glowing. And was that a… considering expression?
Bring the astringent healing substance. I will test it and inform you if it is suitable for dragons.
“All right.” Syla donned gloves from her medical kit since the stuff was unpleasant against mere human skin. “Do you want me to apply it to your, uhm...” She waved in the direction of the dragon’s cloaca.
That is what is sore, Wreylith said, though, naturally, a dragon can endure discomfort of all kinds and has no need of human intervention.
“Naturally.” Syla grabbed the jar and headed toward her.
“Maybe I’ll leave to give Agrevlari the news now.” Vorik headed for the exit. Quickly.
“You don’t want to help me smear healing salve on a cloaca?” Syla called after him.
“It’s possible you have a greater bond with your dragon than I do with mine.” Vorik called back.
Males, Wreylith said. So inferior.
Syla thought about arguing that Vorik was, in fact, quite superior, but she might not be able to convince the dragon of that. At least she’d called him appropriately respectful. That was high praise from one of her kind.
After admiring the eight golden eggs, Syla set to work with her tincture.
She tried to ignore the long neck crooking so that Wreylith could watch her, and were those eyes laden with suspicion?
Maybe she expected the tincture to be slimy, as she always called Syla’s healing concoctions.
But this one could not possibly be labeled so.
Syla applied the new substance carefully since she couldn’t imagine wanting anything stinging or astringent near her birth canal, but Wreylith let out a contented sigh. Several sighs. Then, her body relaxing fully, she laid her neck and head down.
Finally, you have created a substance acceptable to dragons.
“I’m glad you’re content.”
That feels magnificent. Wreylith let out a soft rumble, almost like a cat purr.
“I had no idea this would have the ability to mellow a dragon,” Syla murmured.
Another contented rumble came from Wreylith as she closed her eyes and went to sleep.