mind like an unhealing wound .
" You feel my pain ?" I asked. And then the things he'd said before struck home. " Two moons? I've been here days? And all the dragons hunting us —"
Are gone , he said. I felt his weary calm within my mind, and it eclipsed my sudden fear. So many fell, they would not chase me past the edge of Pazyarev's territory .
"Pazyarev," I said, tasting the name. And then I remembered our mad flight, soaring miles over the earth, past trackless mountains and well out over the southern plains. I frowned. " Just...where is his territory ?"
The dragon knew no names of human cities, nor the roads or river names that defined our borders, but he showed me more clearly than any words would have. He drew an image within my mind, a manufactured memory more detailed than any map.
From high above and far away, I saw the green lands around Tirah in the heart of the fertile Ardain. I saw the hair-thin line of the river Teel and the lands around Isabelle's home. I saw the dusty fields to the south and the impassable mountains to the west, towering over the stormy sea. I saw the sheltered cove beneath the city of Whitefalls that no army could ever take. I saw a third of the continent, hundreds and hundreds of miles square. I waited for him to move the image closer, to define Pazyarev's territory within it.
Instead, he said, Here. These lands belong to him. We are outside his domain now, in a territory all my own . The image swam in my mind, spinning dizzily, and showed me the smaller range of worn-down mountains that sprawled along the barren eastern coast. Now he moved in, narrowing the field of view to one mountainside of rough rockfalls and scrawny trees. I saw perhaps two miles square, of little more than dry, cracked stone, and felt the vast imbalance between Vechernyvetr and the massive broodlord.
" He is hunting you ," I thought.
I know. He has been calling me back .
" How ?"
For a long time, Vechernyvetr gave no answer. I felt a great emptiness from him, something like fear. Something like despair. And in answer to that helplessness, I felt a blind, furious rage. I once belonged to his brood , the dragon said.
I thought, " He told me that. But why? And what does it mean? "
Again he paused. Then he drew away. You do not know what dragons know , he said. I can scarce explain it . I felt him bank the emotions burning in the back of my mind, until only the anger remained. You need food. I will go and fetch some. You should sleep and heal.
" But —"
In time , he said. In time. But not while all your agony is buzzing in my head like a summer storm.
Frustration flared up in my heart, then echoed back much magnified from the dragon. He hit me with his will, poured pressure on my soul, and all my desperation could barely hold him for a heartbeat. Then he washed me away in darkness and left my body resting.
Vechernyvetr's lair was not the fearsome prison I'd found beneath the monstrous Pazyarev's control. It was a large cave, but only just high enough for Vechernyvetr to walk beneath its dark ceiling. It had a cooling pool, too, but his was barely three paces across and perhaps a foot deep at its center. The cave floor opened through a wide fissure onto a broad sun-baked ledge, and the breeze that sometimes rustled in tasted like pine and winter frost.
There was a wide spill of gold and silver treasures against the back wall—easily enough to drape a man in luxury for life—but compared to the great flowing mountain of riches in Pazyarev's lair, it seemed a sad pittance.
And then there was no brood, no army of retainer drakes. There was just Vechernyvetr alone. During the day, most days, Vechernyvetr slept curled atop his gold like a beggar on a threadbare blanket. I could feel his shame long before I understood it.
Most nights he would go hunting. I could lie upon the stone within the lair and feel the wind beneath the dragon's wings, taste the hunger and rage, feel the thrill of every kill. I
C. J. Cherryh
Learning to Kill: Stories
John O'Riley
Brenda Sinclair
Christopher George
Stephen Lloyd Jones
Karl Iagnemma
Celya Bowers
Jill Gregory
Aria Cunningham