Dragon Rule

Page 13

“Those white-turbaned fellows?” AuRon asked. He’d fought them once, to defend his blighter allies in the mountains of Old Uldam.
“It’s a fractious land,” Naf said. “For the most part they keep quarrels among themselves.”
“I hardly know the world outside our island,” Natasatch said, in her shaky Pari. Istach corrected her pronunciation.
“Hieba made an unofficial journey to see her,” Naf said. “She’s, well, even influenced her husband to prefer us to the old Ghioz states in matters of trade routes. Their caravans offload here now, rather than in Ghioz.”
“I’ll be happy to fly you down there,” Natasatch said. “I’m learning that I enjoy travel.”
“Very kind of you—lady…” Naf said, searching for a title.
AuRon harrumphed. “We don’t have any sort of rank you need to refer to. Though we have come to talk to you about this business with the Grand Alliance.”
“It’s a pleasant day,” Naf said. “Perhaps it would be easier for us all to talk outside. I’ll have some chairs brought.”
Once they settled in, Hieba and Naf seated with a few of their court in attendance, AuRon and his family facing them, and some roast mutton long since gone down dragon gullets.
“I’m here to convince you to rejoin the Grand Alliance,” AuRon said.
“That fat SoRolatan was almost as bad as the Ghioz,” Hieba said. “He’d pluck cattle right out of a field or dip his neck right into a net full of fish. He threatened to burn down the dome if we didn’t bring him more coin.”
“Did he protect you from anything?” AuRon asked.
“Biting insects, I suppose,” Naf said. “They avoided his reek.”
“Your kingdom is in an odd predicament,” AuRon said. “I understand it fell into the Grand Alliance rather than joining.”
“I would have your counsel,” Naf said. “Perhaps fresh dragon eyes can perceive that which is puzzlement and dilemma.”
“Counsel? My eyes won’t help you much in political murk,” AuRon said.
“Then let’s escape it. Come, AuRon, I’ll fly, if you’ll humble yourself to bear a human on your proud and unconquered back. Like Tindairuss and NooMoahk of old, eh?”
They brought out sewn-together sheepskins rigged with stirrups and horn. “It’s a saddle for an elephant, if you must know. They’re used down in the logging camps to the south.”
AuRon’s mouth watered at the memory of elephant. Chewy, but one could dine for days.
It took some time for Naf’s saddlemaster, or whatever his title was, to adjust the straps so they fit snug on a dragon. Naf eventually put on a heavy cloak and climbed on.
“Keep your scarf about you,” Hieba said, rechecking his stirrups. “It’s cold, flying on dragon-back.”
“Ah, AuRon,” Naf laughed, “you’re wider than the hunting horses a king rides for pleasure. It’s like sitting atop a flat old plowhorse.”
“Be sure not to tip him,” Natasatch said. “That would be a terrible beginning to our diplomacy.”
“He’s tougher than he looks,” AuRon said. “Ready? Don’t be alarmed, I flap the most taking off.”
With that, AuRon launched himself into the air. Naf kicked him hard in the throat as his heels sought purchase, hanging on for dear life.
“What direction first?” AuRon asked.
“North,” Naf said.
AuRon swung toward the blue green of the Falngese river.
“Here, to the north, is where we first met. Wallander’s an ally of ours, of sorts. The traveling towers don’t cross the lands since the Ironriders waged war on the lands west, but there is still trade. The silk and dye chain of trading posts bring their pack trains here, and a good deal of the Sunstruck Sea trade finds its way here as well. Your dwarf friends rely on us as allies in case of trouble, and there’s always trouble when the Ironriders are your neighbors.”
As if to prove his point, AuRon saw galloping figures on the far side of the river.
“Yah-ha, what’s this?” Naf said. “AuRon, by the riverbank, the long sandbar with the trees.”
AuRon descended, willing to take a closer look.
Even the great Falngese sometimes ran shallow, and a barge had caught itself on a sandbar. Its crew had been trying to move it back into the main channel by means of a small boat, lines, and anchors.
The problem was the boat was stranded on the far side of the river, not yet to Wallander and in the open country of the plains.
Ironrider lands.
More and more Ironriders galloped up to the riverbank, like hyenas gathering at a lion’s kill.
AuRon’s battle blood wasn’t up. Nothing particularly vexed him about the scuffle below, just humans robbing one another. For every fishing ship he’d seen coming to the rescue of another in distress, he’d seen two stealing each other’s pot-markers, or cutting a rival’s nets away. “Naf, I’m not some kind of war-horse. I’m not even a scaled dragon. One lucky bowman—”
“Drop flame on them. Anything to frighten them away!”
“That I can do. But you’ll owe me a hearty meal, my friend.”
If it was to be done, it might as well be done well. Where had he heard that? His brother? He must be getting mazy from too much change of altitude, if he was quoting his brother.
AuRon read the wind in the grass before deciding on a direction for the attack.
Mind made up, he swooped in low, making as much noise as he could. The horses reacted as horses usually did: They danced and shied and the arrows drawn went well off mark.
He loosed his flame in the shallow waters at the river-bank. Billowing clouds of steam erupted, and a small grass fire sizzled.
“The King! The King!” the crew shouted as AuRon passed overhead.
“I’ll dislodge them. Hang on,” AuRon said.
With a wary glance at the bank, where the Ironrider raiders had discovered that the prize wasn’t worth a possible scorching and were scattering to parts east, he landed. Gripping the barge’s stern with his sii, he found purchase in the sandy river-bottom and shoved, then swam, the boat back out into the main channel.
“You should get one of those monster herbivores the dwarfs use for this,” AuRon grunted.
Naf waved to the cheering men. Ah well, AuRon thought, the king always gets the credit. Or the blame.
With that he took off again, and they followed the course of the Falngese river.
AuRon had overflowed it before, but he’d never seen this much traffic on it, from little fishing boats to bigger, grain-filled barges.
“Hypatia is growing rich again,” Naf explained. “They’re buying, and when there are buyers there are sellers jostling each other to be first to their markets.”
AuRon shrugged. He didn’t care one way or another if the Hypatians grew rich or how much grain they bought. He did fear for what a rich and powerful neighbor might intend for Naf and his people. It could be like the Ghioz all over again— Naf’s poor country was at an important gap in the mountains.
“This is the east. We claim this length of the Falngese river, but by long tradition it’s a free-flow. I can claim no part of the commerce that doesn’t come into or leave my shores. The Ghioz abide by the tradition as well—for now. Beyond the river are the forests of the old provinces, now claimed by both us and the Ghioz (who, under this Grand Alliance, aren’t all that different from the old), and beyond that are the mountains where you and Hieba lived with the blighters. The mountains are thick with blighters and their herds and they are settling here, there and here again before you know it. Do they grow on rocks?”
“I read a study in NooMoahk’s old library,” AuRon said. “In times of war and stress blighters will produce more male children. In times of peace, more females are born. Back when I lived there, I advised them to stay out of wars and battles; it seems they still do. Wifeing years and knifing years, the Fireblades used to call such intervals.”
“I fear they will see some knifing years. There are the usual disputes about grazing lands and stolen livestock between my roving foresters camps and the blighter settlers and the Ghioz.”
“Or your settlers and the roving blighters, as a blighter-chief might have it. But don’t worry too much about border disputes here; I may be able to help you with this. There may be some old fireblades who remember me.”
Naf needed a rest out of the saddle and they broke their journey at a village. After a moment of terror and slammed shutters as AuRon passed over, once he landed and Naf called out for his people to come help their weary old king dismount, they forgot their fear and children seemed to be peering at him out of every doorway and windowsill. Naf bought some bread for himself and two fat hams for his mount, and they stretched out for some of the afternoon before mounting again.
“To think, to be able to travel from one end of my kingdom to the other in a day,” Naf said. “Dairuss is not big by any means, but even riding hard with fresh horses at every station it takes a messenger more than a day to go from north to south.”