Blood of Dragons - Страница 52

He stopped a short distance from them. A red dragon had followed him to his inspection, but it was the great golden dragon that towered over both of them that held Hest’s gaze. The creature’s eyes were large and liquid, black over blackness. They seemed to swirl as he gazed into them, radiating calm. The largest dragon of all, a blue-black mountain, towered over the others. Light seemed to sink into him and vanish into his shimmering anger. His silver eyes reflected nothing. Someone spoke, the red man or the dragon, Hest did not know. ‘Have you offered harm to a dragon?’

‘No,’ he said, for he had not. He had never shot an arrow or jabbed with a spear. He found himself standing and stepping back. Others were doing the same, slaves and crewmen and even one of the Chalcedean bowmen. Some remained kneeling and Hest had an ominous sensation of doom.

‘Judgment is done,’ the scarlet man proclaimed. ‘You who have dared to raise hands against the glory of a dragon will spend the rest of your lives in servitude to them. That is the mercy of Mercor the Wise. A workman’s village awaits you, where you can become useful. If you fail to serve willingly and well, you will be eaten. One way or another, your lives are forfeit for what you have done. You others have been part of a most evil expedition. You are not without guilt. But your families can buy you back, if they are inclined. If not, you can find useful labour among us. That will be discussed later, after we reach Kelsingra. For now, those who are evil will be transported in constraints.’ He narrowed his eyes for a moment, and then pointed at two slaves and a crewman. ‘You three will see to that. Confine them. Then organize a crew. The rest of you will bring the ships to Kelsingra. Those we claim as rightful booty, for you have invaded our territory without our permission and forfeit all that you have brought with you.’

He turned away from them and the shocked murmur that was arising. ‘That is as much mercy as can be offered to you,’ he concluded without regret and walked back to the waiting red dragon. She lowered her huge head and sniffed him. He stroked her face, his own expression becoming silly with affection for the beast.

Hest knew a moment of utter disbelief. ‘But …’ he began to protest, and then fell silent as the Chalcedean leapt to his feet. He shook his head like a man who stands in a swarm of midges and then raised a shout. ‘No! I will never be a slave. I am Lord Dargen of Chalced and I will sooner die than bow my head to the yoke!’

His hands were just as fast as Hest remembered them. The little knives were snatched from hiding and took flight as if they had wills of their own. They did not miss. They rattled like hailstones off the hulking blue-black dragon’s thick scales. One stuck for a moment at the corner of one of the great creature’s silvery eyes. He shook his head and the dagger fell free. An oily drop of scarlet dragon blood welled from the wound and began a slow slide down the dragon’s face.

The Chalcedean gave a shout of triumph. It rang oddly in the absolute silence that had framed his act. Then a smaller silver dragon gave a shrill trumpet of outrage. But the blue-black one made no sound as he took one step forward. All around the Chalcedean, his fellows crouched or cowered as the dragon stretched his head toward the man. He did not hiss or roar as he opened his jaws. As a man might snap an offending branch from a wayside path, the dragon bit the Chalcedean in half. In one head-snapping gulp he swallowed his head and torso. A moment later, he picked up the man’s hips and legs and likewise downed them. Then he turned and stalked off. One of Lord Dargen’s hands and part of a forearm had been sheared off in the dragon’s first bite. It remained where it had fallen, palm up on the muddy earth as if offering a final plea. One of the other Chalcedeans turned aside and vomited noisily.

The scarlet man seemed unsurprised and untroubled. ‘He has had his wish. He will not bow his head.’ He turned back to his dragon and leapt lightly onto her shoulder and then settled himself just forward of her wings. She snapped her wings wide. All around them, the other dragons were crouching and then leaping skyward. Wave after wave of wind, heavy with the smell of dragon, washed over Hest, until only the red dragon and her scarlet rider remained. The warrior looked over them with hard eyes.

‘Do not be slow. If you need guidance, look to the sky. There will always be a dragon over you, making sure that you do not pause until you reach Kelsingra.’

Then, to Hest’s astonishment, the red dragon made a trundling run down the muddy strip of riverbank before leaping into the air. She flapped her wings frantically and ungracefully until she was airborne. In another time and place, he might have laughed at her ridiculous launch. Today, he knew only a moment of great relief that the dragons were gone.

A ringing in his ears that he had not noticed faded. He blinked. The day seemed dimmer, the smells of the swampy riverbank less intense. Around him, other men were shifting, looking at one another, shaking their heads and rubbing their eyes.

‘They made us accuse ourselves!’ one of the Chalcedeans shouted in fury.

A slave next to Hest stared at the man and then a sneer crossed his face. ‘Is that what it takes to make a Chalcedean tell the truth? A dragon standing over you?’

The man lifted his fists and advanced on the slave, who stood his ground to meet him.

Someone screamed. A silver dragon swept in low over them, and the slave stood alone. Hest had a glimpse of a body dangling from the dragon’s jaws before it flew over the trees and out of sight. He turned and ran for the ships. He was not the first to get there.

There was an interruption in the light. And another. A gust of wind rattled the tall rushes all around her. Tintaglia managed to open one eye a slit. She was still dreaming. A female green dragon looked down on her. Too late.

I fear you are right.

She had not seen the golden dragon. He had landed behind her. It was only now, as his head came into view, that she knew he was there. He sniffed her, his black eyes roiling with sorrow. The infections are too far advanced. She will not fly again. He lifted his head. A shameful way for us to lose her. Killed by humans. No dragon should die so.

Other dragons were alighting nearby. A blue queen, a silver drake, a lavender drake. Dragons. Real dragons, dragons that could fly and hunt.

Dragons have avenged you, Tintaglia, the golden one told her, as if he could sense her next thought. The humans have been judged and punished. Never again will any of them lift a hand against dragons. The golden dragon glanced skyward. You were long coming back to us. Perhaps you had given up on us, just as we had given up on you. But we will not abandon you here. Your flesh will not rot, nor be food for rats and ants. Kalo will gather your memories, blue queen. And all of us here will bear our recollections ever forward through time. Your name and deeds will not be forgotten among dragonkind.

A scarlet Elderling stepped forward. She had not seen him, had not known that Elderlings had returned to the world. She thought of the three she had begun and knew a moment of sorrow. Incomplete, and without her continued presence in their lives, doomed to die. The scarlet Elderling was speaking. ‘… and a statue to your glory shall be raised in the centre of the new Kelsingra. Saviour of dragonkind, first queen of the new generation, Serpent-Helper, you will never be forgotten so long as Elderlings and dragons still breathe in this world.’

His praise warmed her, but only faintly. He was not a singer such as Selden had been. She thought of her little dragon-singer, only a boy when she had claimed him, and knew a moment of nostalgia for him. Dying, she sent a thought winging to him. Sing for me, Selden. For whatever time remains to you before my death ends you, sing of your dragon and your love for her.

Somewhere in the distance, she thought she felt a response from him, the sympathetic thrumming of a far string in tune with her own heart chords. She closed her eyes. It was good to know that a drake would circle over her and watch her death, good to know that no small animals would chew at her as she lay dying, that her memories would not be feed for maggots and ants. All she had learned in this life, all she had known, would go on in some form. It would have been better if she had been able to lay her eggs, if she had died knowing that one hot day her serpent offspring would wriggle free of their shells and slither down the beaches to begin their sojourn as sea serpents. It would have been better, but this, at least, was as good a death as any dragon might have.

The keepers had awakened to a city bereft of dragons. None strolled out from the baths, gleaming in the spring dawn. None alighted in the square with a rush of wing and wind. In the absence of the dragons, the city became vast and empty and far too large for humans.

Tats had been startled when Thymara tapped on his door to waken him. If she hadn’t come, it was likely he would have slept longer. But he rose, and went down with her to enjoy a hot cup of fragrant tea and a round of ship’s biscuit with jam. Odd, how such simple foods seemed so good after a time without them. Midway through breakfast, Thymara had set down her cup and tilted her head. ‘Do you hear anything from Fente?’

Tats closed his eyes and reached out toward his feisty little queen. He’d opened them again almost immediately. ‘Still flying, I think. I wonder how far they are going. Whatever she’s doing, she’s intent on it and wants no distractions.’ He cocked his head at her. ‘Has Sintara spoken to you?’