Chapter 8

A/N- And on to the next chapter! I had to go out on a limb and do some crazy research on Roman times and their Central European empire. They apparently did also deal in trade for Baltic amber. Hope I did this research justice! Also, if there is anyone out there who has studied Latin, I'd love if you could correct my pathetic Google Translate/interpolations from modern Romance Languages. Gatalas and the priest know Latin because they interacted with Romans often. But I, unfortunately, know little Latin.

I'll be grateful for any proper Latin translations! I'll even send baked goods!

Update!- Thank you to The Eight for helping straighten out my Latin translations. Any errors are entirely my own, so let me know what I still need to fix. Gratias vobis ago!

Chapter 8- She was a Man

"Reason is poor propaganda when opposed by the yammering, unceasing lies of shrewd and evil and self-serving men."- R.A. Heinlein, Assignment in Eternity

Disclaimer, brought to you in Pig Latin courtesy of the Dialectizer: Iyay on'tday ownyay agonsdray oryay Ikingsvay. Eythay elongbay otay Eamworksdray andyay Essidacray Owellcay!

(Basically, if it's dragon or Viking/River Rat, it's not mine.)

"It's Setareh. My name, I mean. I didn't have to change it that much," the blacksmith said softly and then pulled back hard with his- no her- arm, trying to get Gatalas to release it.

My Rider did so, keeping his general gaze directed at where he estimated Setereh's head to be. He was off by some inches, so it was a bit eerie looking, as though he were staring at a ghost over the young forge priest's shoulder.

Setareh shook her hand a few times and then crossed her arms. I snorted softly, quite surprised myself. Even though she had admitted it, I still found it hard to believe this young one facing my Rider was a woman.

Everything about her- her posture, the hard lines of her jaw, her flat, lean torso, her huskier, tenor (no- actually contralto ) voice- everything seemed masculine. I thought of the artisan, domestic women like Darya and the warrior women like Skuda. They were strong and confident, skilled with the bow and able to ride like they were one with a horse. But there was no doubt at all of their femininity. Setareh really did look like a beardless young man.

She started to close up the soup sack but Gatalas shook his head, "No. Tarry a little longer. I want to hear why you are... all this." he gestured at Setareh- or he meant to. Instead he summed up why the tree behind her was "all this."

That unintentional gesture made the forge priest smile a bit. All of Banadaspos' people knew Gatalas would make very understandable mistakes, and when we smiled it was in understanding, not laughing at him. After all, no one in this plane of existence is perfect.

"I really thought I had everyone fooled," the young woman said regretfully.

"You're dealing with someone who doesn't rely on eyesight," Gatalas said warmly, "When we shook hands in forgiveness, I felt from your hand's shape right away that it was a woman's hand- a guy your age would have larger and heavier hands. And the bathhouse was an obvious clue. But there other signs: when you walked back from the bathhouse there was a certain sound in your movement that did not seem entirely like a guy's steps. The hips, you know- they make a difference in how men and women move. I was guessing you were tired from the long day, so were not focusing on making your walk more masculine But up to then, your gait was a guy's gait." He raked a hand through his hair, "And, I have to admit, you have done a fantastic job of covering it up. The average person would never guess you were a girl. Do the priests know?"

Setareh nodded sternly, "Of course they know. But they don't reveal my gender, at my request. However, they've never said I am not a guy. They avoid using gender pronouns as much as much as possible. People simply see me as a guy, and they believe I am one."

I thought back to the recent conversations, and I could see Gatalas was doing that, too. "You're right," he said, "They've never referred to you as a guy- or a girl. Just always called you 'young 'un' or 'priest.' Granted, I have not been around a lot to hear conversations, but it seems to be true. Everyone sees you as a man just because you dress like one."

"I also look like one, too." Setareh stretched her legs out, easing muscles that had been tightened from hours in the saddle, "I have to admit, I am one of those girls that always looked more like a boy than a girl- and I'd wager my first apprentice hammer I'd look hideous in a women's kaftan and saravara. Or, at least, out of place." She stretched her back and arms, "And I think the fact I looked so much like a boy saved my life."

Gatalas' eyebrows quirked up as he took this in, "How? In what way? Broomheads? You probably would have been very young at the time of the Crossing."

The smith-girl shook her head, "Not that young. I was twelve. And very much established as a boy. It was not caused by the Broomheads, but it was related to it. I am from the Iazyges tribe, like you, but my Scepter Holder was Mauakes."

"THE Mauakes. Mad Mauakes ," Gatalas breathed in with sympathy, "The legendary Lost Tribe."

"Aww, that sounds so dramatic! If I had my sitar, I would have inserted in an ominous bar of chords. Not that legendary. More infamous," Setareh scoffed, "We're only lost because Mauakes destroyed us as a people. Most of us survived, but we blended and worked ourselves into other caravans and Scepter Holder allegiances. But we are no longer a People, like you know yourself as one of Banadaspos' Raging Roughnecks."

She pulled up her sleeve to show a thin arm unmarked by any tattoo. Gatalas had pulled up his own sleekly muscled right arm, and his displayed a proud blue tattoo. It was the tamga mark of Banadaspos: a circle mounted on three columns with a crossbar. Curved "horns" came from the circle's top and from the left and right columns. It was supposed to resemble a Boneknapper, but I thought a Firemaker would have to drink quite a few bowls of fermented beverages to make that connection.

Gatalas had gotten the marking at his manhood ceremony, one that coincided with him completing the Dragon Unit training, when he swore his allegiance to Banadaspos.

"I have not chosen an allegiance yet," Setareh said softly, "I am still a journeyman smith, gaining experience with your caravan, but I also do travel to other Iazyges and Roxalani caravans and do commissions. It's part of the journeyman task since we then learn new styles and techniques from the caravans we visit. When I become a Master Smith, then I can settle with one caravan"

::That explains why we haven't seen much of her during our return trips at the caravan:: I told Gatalas.

A smooth, scaly warmth encircled my left leg. Lux had curled himself around my hoof, now wrapping his segmented tail up and up and up my leg until my leg looked like multiple olive-brown bracelets covered it.

::Just stretching my tail out a bit, if you don't mind getting a few extra 'stripes' on your legs:: Lux said, ::Oooh, that campfire feels so nice and warm.::

"I rather like the wandering," Setareh continued, "It's interesting how different caravans have different techniques, especially those who were closer to the borders with settled folk. We have our own Sarmatian style, but we've picked up influences from the Greeks and Parthians and the Khazars and the Seljurks." She smiled, and her fierce, almond-shaped blue eyes softened for a moment, "I sometimes wish I could even spend some time among settled smiths, like the ones in the Greek speaking lands. Their animal form designs are amazing in detail. And the way they portray us Sarmatians in their art, it's like we are reflected as miniature bronze figures. But, for sure, I would have to remain a boy for that."

Gatalas grinned, finding her enthusiasm contagious,"And, I am sure, you would also have many opportunities to, I dunno, blow things up along the way?"

Setareh's face turned red and she laughed, "Well, of course! A girl has to have a few hobbies. Actually, explosives was one of the things we priests were taught in our 'training.' That's the training involving medicines and weapons and such- the 'out of place' things you have noticed. My favorite was a fellow from the Eastern Lands, a man of Xin, I think. He taught us about fireworks and how light weapons could be used as a tactical way to distract an enemy."

::So, that's where the little priest-Monster got the idea!:: Lux tilted his ears back, the ragged right ear's tattered shreds shaking with the motion, ::Well, it certainly did not work on me.::

Lux was still not able to understand Sarmatian, so I had been giving him a running translation, supplemented by observations and corrections from Ravenwing. Earlier in the trip, Ravenwing had asked Lux to open his mind to him, so the two could converse with each other. The black gelding was quite a surprise to me: a hard-boiled warhorse-mercenary soldier personality with a definite taste for fermented beverages and "dirty old man" comments. It was amusing to think that he would have bonded with a scrawny, geeky artisan, and a priest at that! But I guessed that an impetuous inventor type would need a more protective, guardian, especially if Setareh planned to be journeying so much learn her trade. And maybe Setareh's enthusiasm and curiosity brought some bouncy sparkles to Ravenwing's sardonic world view.

Gatalas nodded and leaned over to pour the last of the soup into his and the smith's camp cups, "We should finish this. It's important to keep our load light if we want to make good time."

He drank some of the soup, ::Very nice oxtail soup, Horsebutt. It's a pity you don't like soup. The combination of the vegetables and herbs and barley is good.::

I snorted, ::Ruined by all that nasty meat broth. You can have it, FIremaker. I still think it's a waste of good vegetables. But I will have some more of that bread, thank you!::

Lux chuckled at my vehemence, punching the air with his bouncy squeaks of draconic laughter.

I was soon munching on rye bread, and it was my turn to chuckle when Lux tried some and hissed it at. ::Disgusting stuff. Monsters are so weird.::

Gatalas continued, "Setareh, you still have not said why you became a boy in the first place. I assume Mauakes had something to do with it."

Setareh wiped her mouth, boy-like, with her hand, "Mmm hmm. Yes. My father had to do it to protect me. Mauakes had some odd notions about women- in many ways, he was more like settled folk than a Sarmatian. I think the fact our caravan had penetrated far into settled lands during our raids had a lot to do with it. But he had some strange notion that being our Scepter Holder meant he got to... ummm... 'break in' the young ladies, as it were before they were eligible for marriage. He also believed that our virgin blood would help help him hold back old age symptoms, so he often would blood let young girls. Then he'd drink their blood mixed with some other vile substances. He wasn't careful about it, so many little girls did not survive the bloodletting. Or else they did not survive the infection they got afterwards. He wasn't the Madman for nothing."

Gatalas shook his head. There was no sense in asking why the people stayed with their mad Scepter Holder. Mauakes was mad, but he also was one of the most successful raiders among the Sarmatians, amassing great wealth from the Broomhead lands his Dragon unit plundered. Many Scepter Holders envied his success in raids. His name was spoken with both admiration and horror.

Being Sarmatians, Satareh's people had honor. They would stick with their prince to keep to the vows they had made before he had succumbed to his mental illness. They would be seen as liars and untrustworthy if they abandoned their Scepter Holder.

My Firemaker peoples' simple and fierce honor is their greatest virtue… and their worst downfall.

"But you did have some defenses, I guess. Like becoming a boy instead of a girl." Gatalas finally said, running his hands over the rim of his cup as he spoke.

"I was 'lucky' enough to be born after Mauakes lost it. So, when my parents saw I was a girl, they realized I had a chance that girls born before did not have. They had the midwife announce I was a boy and they started dressing me and treating me as one. So, I grew up always being a boy," Setareh chuckled with irony, "It was amazing how many more boys than girls were born in my caravan after Mauakes went mad."

"I'm surprised the priests put up with it."

"There were no priests. Mauakes styled himself as both military leader and divine leader. Pity he was good only at one of those things," the girl sighed, "Over the years, some of the village 'boys' were found out, especially as they started showing female figures. Some of them survived the bloodletting and the initiations. If you call it surviving.

"I was lucky enough that I look very much like a boy, and that meant being flat in the right places, so I was never found out. But it was pretty confusing for me. I knew something was strange when my parents never allowed me to run naked like some of the kids did in the high summer. I could see I was not a boy from looking at the naked boys. My parents thoroughly drilled it into me – well, more like scared the stuffing out of me- that horrible things would happen to me if I ever revealed I was a girl. I obeyed out of fear, but when I first saw what happened to a girl who had not been disguised as a boy, that helped me keep my mouth shut. Poor thing never spoke again. Period. Until she died from childbirth complications."

I heard a rustling and Kourosh was suddenly by his mistress' side, nosing at her arm. The girl slid her hand under the dog's jaw and scratched him gently. She laid her head against his, whispering something to him too soft to hear. I got the impression the dog had picked up on his owner's feelings and wanted to offer comfort.

Then Setareh continued, "Things eventually came to a head. By this time, our wanderings had taken us into the boundaries where steppe meets forests. Our caravan had roamed quite far to the east and north of most Iazyges territory."

"You know, already, our caravan roamed near the borders of Panonia" Gatalas said, "Northeast of that, I guess, would put you square in the Baltic lands. It's pretty amazing how far our people have wandered."

"Yup, the good old Sarmatian shuffle. We're surrounded by long grass, but we don't let it grow under our feet. I guess I'm a Baltic Sarmatian. There were lots of trees bordering our range, and that's the problem. Lots of trees means lots of amber. And the Broomheads love amber. Add to it that Mauakes loved Broomhead wealth. He discovered a quick way to get Broomhead wealth was to trade with them, using amber."

"Nothing wrong with that. We trade today. It's preferable to raiding, especially since we gave that up when we surrendered to the Broomheads," Gatalas shrugged, but I could sense him waiting for the other boot to drop.

"I know, but the point is Mauakes sold out on us. He expected us to give up our wandering ways and become amber harvesters, to leave the steppes and live in the forests. To become... settlers."

"No...," Gatalas did gasp now, "That's like asking us to kill ourselves!"

Setareh's eyes glinted with anger, "We knew, then, that Mauakes had been seduced by Broomhead easy wealth. He was only seeing the gold and jewels and grains. And, no doubt, access to Roman courtesans. Otherwise, no sane Sarmatian would have suggested we abandon our way of life."

She sighed. Above us, a hawk called, its voice floating down to us. I felt a twinge of worry for Skuda and Skull-Striker, her gelding, and I hoped they were well.

"So, when we refused, the Broomhead leader intended to gai our cooperation by taking all of the Sarmatian women and daughters hostage. The men would only get them back if we submitted and collected amber. It had worked for other peoples the Broomheads and conquered in the past. They did not know yet how a Sarmatian woman is not easy to take down. So, it came down to brutal invasions and warfare, our people against the Broomheads. One dawn, just after the Suntide feast when we were off guard, the Broomheads encircled our wagons and swept down. Unfortunately, they happened to be one of the few Broomhead units that had a decent cavalry.

"They only won because we were not able to get to our Turkmenes on time. It was a tragedy that day that the bonded Turkmenes were allowed to graze in the western field. We Sarmatians are great at invading and raiding on horseback, but not so great when we are surrounded and cut off from our horses. I only survived because my father got the other younglings and I to hide. Oh- Gatalas, your hands are trembling. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Gatalas said abruptly. Too abruptly, "Please, Setareh... go on."

::Rider. I'm worried about you.::

::It's okay, Horsebutt. I'll be fine.::

I lowered my head and nickered sadly. Gatalas knew all about Broomhead invasions. He was a survivor of the Thundering Victory, the ironic battle where nature gave the advantage to the tactically inferior, foot soldier Broomheads. The Sarmatians had lost their wandering lifestyle in Panonia on that day. And a young teenage boy had lost his family.

And, I was now sure, his eyesight. As I suspected, "It" had not been during enemy tribal raid. "It "had been during the Thundering Victory battle.

Setareh had reached out a hand to put over Gatalas', and he pulled it back.

Surprise on her face, she dropped her hand and continued, hesitantly, "Our Scepter Prince was killed in that struggle, along with most of us. As a people, our caravan was gone. When we children all met the surviving adults together at the spot we had been taught to flee to during danger, I discovered my parents had not survived. Only one of my brothers and I had lived.

"Luckily an aunt and uncle had made it out alive, and they took us into their wagon. We traveled westward and, eventually, found patronage with a Panonian-lands caravan from the Iazyges tribe. We were lucky enough not to be discovered by the Broomheads during the Thundering Victory."

Gatalas could only nod, "That's a blessing." His voice was curdled into a lower pitch, saturated with bad memories, "You'd been through enough already, I think."

"But Banadaspos' caravan was discovered by Broomheads, I know this." Setareh's voice took on a gentler tone, "The Broomheads went ill with your people. Very ill. They even burned the dead- damning the souls to the Lie's Underworld. At least we got to bury our dead."

"Bale, you are right. And I hope Marha understood we did not mean to desecrate him by burning our dead. The Broomheads burned them t-to insult us. I don't want to speak of it, please." Gatalas looked away, but the lack of eyesight could not take away what was internal memory was playing in his mind, now.

"I-if you don't mind me asking, Gatalas," Setareh breathed, for the first time her voice sounding like a girl, a girl who was a warm and concerned friend, "Is that where you.. you... lost your eyesight?"

Gatalas stiffened with uncharacteristic coldness, "I said I did not want to talk about. Leave it at that, priest."

His voice was suddenly quite scary.

Setareh bit her lip, "Bebakhshid, Gatalas. I am sorry. I should have heard your request the first time. I'm bad that way... I often don't think things through. Well, you've seen that already."

Gatalas lowered his head and clenched a hand. He took a deep breath and blew it out slowly.

Finally he could speak again, "Consider it forgotten. I've been guilty of that problem myself. It's a part of growing up." He raised his head and looked skyward with his unseeing eyes, "We have a mission to go on, and a possible dragon attack tonight to avoid. I don't need distractions like this, lad- I mean, lady. I don't think well when I think about That Day."

Setareh nodded, "I'll remember that."

"But you still have a tale to tell, I think. I can hear it in your voice. Continue, please." Gatalas said, his voice still ragged. But he gave a friendly gesture for the priest to continue.

Setareh did so, her rich contralto voice pulling us back into her past, "My new caravan- like yours- was one of the few chosen by the Broomhead Priests- the embedded timeline guard priests- to make the Crossing to this timeline. I just was so used to being a boy by this time, that I kept on looking like one. My family was used to thinking of me as one, too. And there was some deep part of me that was terrified something awful would happen to me if I showed I was a girl. It took me a long time to understand most Sarmatians were not like Mad Mauakes, that we hold women in high respect. Sadly, the fear kept me from getting too close to people, scared I would reveal myself and get hurt. I was lucky I had my two best friends to keep me from getting too lonely."

She hugged Kourosh, "He was still just a pup when my dad told him to watch over me on the day of the raid. And he never has stopped watching over me. And dear Ravenwing- I never thought I'd be so lucky to bond with a Turkmene."

The black Turkmene whinnied back at her, ears up in contentment, ::Same here, Rider. You're a strange little monkey face, but normal is boring!::

Lux trilled a purr, reacting to Ravenwing's thoughts. The dragon kitten seemed to be in awe of Ravenwing's gruff but deeply affectionate attitude

Setareh continued, "About two years after the Crossing, I came down with the Wasting Fever. You must remember: it was a hard summer on the Eastern steppes. More Gatecrashers than usual, but also rainier and marshier. It was easier to get diseases. My aunt and uncle said I came close to dying. There is no real cure for the Wasting Disease. It just has to run its course. The only treatments were plenty of liquids to hold off dehydration and medicines to keep my fever down.

"My aunt and uncle were so desperate that they prayed to Marha to spare my life, promising they would dedicate my life to the priesthood if I survived."

Gatalas quirked a brow up cynically. I breathed in relief that my Rider was getting his composure back, "Such bargains rarely have a good ending. There are plenty of stories about that. A military general promises the gods to sacrifice the first thing he sees when he comes up if he wins the battle. He wins the battle in an impressive victory. The first thing he sees is his baby daughter toddling through the house gates to meet him."

"My story's ending was happier. I found my destiny," Setareh sighed, "I did get better. And then, without any precedent, I started showing an interest in the smith fine-piece work and the designs of the Draco standards and the armor. I never had any interest or talent in it before; I just had been content to serve my time at the bellows. That, to my aunt and uncle and the caravan priests, seemed a sign Marha had marked he wanted me to be a Forge Priest. So, that is the path I took. Now I have friends I did not have before among the priests. I'm part of a team, one crazy family of good- hearted weirdos." She sighed happily, "It also meant I got "marked" to share some of the timeline secrets. So, like the other priests, we wound up getting "educated" in special techniques by wandering 'merchants'- or at least they appeared that way to outsiders- who would come to stay a few days in our caravan.

"You can take of it as you will. Some latent talent that just came out at the right time, possibly triggered by the fever... or that Marha had actually intervened and accepted the bargain. That's for you to judge."

She reached up to undo the leather bandana and take it off her head, shaking her hair free, "I still have the signs of the sickness. Just like anyone who recovers from the Wasting Sickness, it leaves its marks. I never gained back the weight I lost, and I had been slender to begin with. My hair had to be chopped off because of the fever. It never grew back the same as it was before."

Her hair was very short and choppy: thick in some areas, fine in some areas. But the color was beautiful. She was one of those "cool" redheads; such hair had almost bluish undertones, a color that made me think both how both fire and ice could burn. Such redheads almost always had scorching blue eyes, as opposed to the softer blue, grey, brown, hazel or green you would see on "warm" redheads. Setareh's coloring was not rare among Sarmatians- in fact, more of them had the cool red than the warm red hair. But it was still very striking to see.

"My hair used to be very long, but since it was very curly, it looked shorter than it actually was. But, after the fever, it grew back straight and more uneven. Being a blacksmith, it's not wise to let it grow long, anyway."

She ran a disparaging hand through her hair, "Well, shall we move onwards?"

She stood up and dusted her hands off, then starting putting the fire out, after a quick thank you song to Marha for his loan of the fire, making sure to cover it well.

I nickered so Gatalas knew where I was, and within moments he was at my side, slipping the saddle back on to me. I shrugged into it, helping him with the process. I kept an eye tilted back at him as little Lux unwound his tail from my leg and uncurled himself, yawning mightily.

I hated to see Gatalas so upset when he remembered his past, and yet he never wanted to talk about it. I really hoped he would one day confront it.

Smells of river water infiltrated my nostrils: the fresh scent of water, the iron smell of bogs, and the deeper, more primal scent of that slimy green stuff that floats on the skin of the water. And, lingering over it all, the delicious scents of fresh fish, teasing me.

I had encountered that fresh fish aroma when I sensed whitefish darting beneath on the River Rat/Monster's floating up-and-down water thing. Always smelling sweet, good fish in the water, but knowing I'd never get anything to eat unless it was putrid and wormy.

Water slapped against wood, and I closed my eyes, moaning, ::I don't wanna go. Don't do it, Eyeful. Please! Don't make me go on that wooden thing on the water. These things are bad!::

I heard hooves ringing against wood and the shifting of the basket as Eyeful moved, ::Hush, Lux. You don't have any say in this. We have to go across the river to join the troops. This will only take a few minutes, and no one will hurt you. I've done this before, and I am still alive.::

::That was just luck you survived. One day it'll catch up with you, Eyeful! Mark my thoughts!:: I put my good right paw over my closed eyes, foolishly thinking it could stop the motion, ::Nooooo! Stop, please! Bad things happen on floating wooden things. They are prisons. Monsters will find me and torture me again. They'll torture you...::

A mental laugh pushed against my mind, ::Really, well it's too late now, kitten. We're on the river. And, so far, nothing fatal yet.::

I now felt the slight heaving I had only known too well in my life. I moaned low and deep, feeling my gorge rise, fighting the urge to vomit and void my bowels.

::Turn over on your back, Lux. Look up, there's something interesting.:: Eyeful's thought-voice was sandy and rough- a tough warrior's voice, but there was a soothing undertone that made me shift myself until so I was still coiled in the basket, but now lying on my back.

Oh. How strange.

A woven hemp vine seemed to stretch horizontally across the sky- was it flying? Above the hemp vine, I saw the white and black shapes of sea birds soaring and ducking, calling in their mewling voice. I knew they birds well. What were they doing near a river?

I must have inadvertently let my thoughts be heard, for Eyeful answered me.

::They live near a watery steppe called an oh-shun. And they come to this river by riding on and following the floating wagons coming from the oh-shun water-steppes. They like to follow them for the scraps of fish the Firemakers throw in the water,:: Eyeful explained, ::Some Firemakers call these birds 'rats with wings,' but even if they like to eat scraps and carrion, I still like hearing their calls. Most Firemakers call them 'sea mews'::

The hemp vine seemed to want to fly, but all it could do was move up and down. Then I realized that something of iron- a sun shaped object- was resting on top of the rope. it rolled along the vine top in a way I found strangely soothing.

::We are riding on a raft- ferry, Lux. It's not at all like your River Rat's floating animal head wagon. It's made to help Firemakers cross the river. The water in this area is too deep to swim, but still it is too shallow for a floating wagon, so the Firemakers built this instead. It's a flat "ground" made of several trees tied together. We Turkmenes stand on it, along with our Riders and Kourosh.::

::But where are the woven hides that catch the wind?:: I asked, now fascinated by the bobbing iron disc that rolled on the bobbing hemp vine.

::It does not need wind hides. What you see above us is moving the ferry. The rope- that's the thing that looks like a thick vine- and the pulley- that's the iron disc- they are moving our flat ground of logs along the top of the water. There is a Firemaker who is causing this to happen by pulling on a very heavy rope. The beauty is that it with that rope and pulley, he can move two horses and a human and a dog, but he does not feel our weight. The rope and pulley take the weight. ::

::You seem awfully interested in this, Eyeful:: I said, realizing I, also, had become awfully interested in it.

::Firemakers can create some amazing things. They create horrible, terrifying things, but this is one of their amazing things. I like to figure out how they do it. It's just who I am:: Eyeful snorted and shook her head, the funny wooden and green scaly things on her chest harness clunking in a cheerful way , ::I admit it's weird for a Turkmene, but I've always been interested in how these things work. I even try to guess how I would create something for the same purpose, but my ideas would never be as innovative as what FIremakers can make. Some of the other Turkmenes like to joke that if I were a Firemaker, I'd probably haven been a forge priest.::

I took this in and continued to watch the sky and the rope and the pulley. I watched the sea mews calling and soaring, and I thrilled in the thought that one day I might be there dancing with them.

I could even see the sun, now starting to move to the opposite of the sky. It seems to come up on one side of the sky and then go down on the other. I wonder what it does under the ground as it moves back to the first side to start the new day? Does it roll along the underground like a big ball. Do the worms and badgers and pole cats have to dodge out of its way as it rolls? Is there a whole world like this one, but underground, and the sun lights that world while our world is dark?

Suddenly there was a pitch and toss and Eyeful thought-sent ::We're coming to shore now. See? I told you it would be a short ride. Nothing would happen.::

I sighed in relief, joy flashing through me. We had survived this! I had been on the water and no one had beaten me or hurt me. In fact, it had been strangely peaceful, and Eyeful had taught me some interesting things about how you could use rope and an iron sun-disc and logs to cross a river!

It had actually, even, been... fun! Again, it seems to be that it was the Monsters who made floating on the water into a nightmare. In and of itself, floating on the water could be something wonderful.

::Will we get to do this again?:: I found myself asking. ::Wait, I have an idea! Can you ask the Firemakers to take us on the raft-ferry back to the other side? And then we can come back here again, so everything would be fine again. ::

Clever me! That would give us two extra trips on this wonderful ferry.

Eyeful was laughing to herself at my comments as her Firemaker-Monster adjusted the leather bands around her body, ::You just wish, Lux. Did you forget we are on a mission? Now brace yourself, kiddo, because we are going to do some serious hot footing!.::

The skinny little Firemaker who had exchanged the leather hide on his head for some nice looking fiery-red fur now gave a burly Firemaker a pawful of flat reddish-gold pebbles. The burly Firemaker in brown hides tossed the pebbles in his paw. He started to eat one of them, but then took it out of his mouth. He nodded and made that grimace I have come to know means Firemakers are happy in a way that won't result in a punch or a kick to me. It is a nice grimace. Not like the grimace the River Rat Firemakers made around me.

So, I guess, when a Firemaker-Monster (who is a good Firemaker Monster, not a River Rat) likes what another good Firemaker-Monster does, he gives him a some flat reddish-gold pebbles to show he is pleased.

Very strange. I, myself, thought giving away some freshly caught fish would be a much more appreciative gesture.

And then we, indeed, did fly! The Turkmenes skimmed over the ground. It was fun for a while, and then it became intense, as I realized this was not about pure speed and the joy of flight but about getting as far ahead as possible. The smooth gait became rougher and bouncier, but still even faster. It was not the most comfortable of Eyeful's gaits, and it made my left front leg ache a bit. I let myself drop back into the basket and was grateful it was well padded on the floor so my left leg could rest comfortably.

I spent the next while working on my roaring, focusing on the breathing exercises the black Lightning Person had taught me.

That kept me busy. I felt my ribs aching with the work, but I began to hear the pathetic squeaking start to sound a little raspier.

Now it was scratchy squeaking! Still pathetic, but I think it was an improvement.

I hoped so, anyway.

The sky I saw through the basket opening was now becoming a deep purple-blue, streaks of red clouds running across it.

The Firemaker- Monsters were talking to each other, calling out in their sounds that were so very different from the ones the River Rats used. The River Rats had a rough, sing-song, growling voice. These Firemakers spoke further back in their throats, and there were some growling sounds, but overall it was a strangely liquid sound, one that flowed in an interesting way. I had come to pick up River Rat/Monster speech pretty well. These Firemakers still eluded me. I understood them only by what Eyeful translated for me.

Curiosity got the best of me, and I poked my head and front legs out of the basket, bracing against the wild galloping.

Eyeful, mercifully, was slowing down, easing into that pleasant, smoothly moving gait she called a "traht." She had let me know in most horses it was bouncy, but in her kind it was a smooth, sliding stride. It was something to do with how her Tribe had originated in the rocky and sandy deserts in the lands where the sun emerges from underground each dawn.

Ravenwing, the utterly cool, macho Turkmene with the blue-black coloring that oddly resembled my dreampath LIghtning Person's was now striding next to her. I liked the way the two of them could make a neat rhythm with their hooves, each perfectly matching the other.

And Kourosh, the smaller, lean creature with the silky ears and tail, strode next to them, matching their gait. He was so quiet, and yet I got the impression he was a nice creature and would not hurt me. Eyeful had told me he was a 'sight hound'- a canine creature who hunts by tracking the movement of prey, just as some dragons do. This means they have to move fast, so they are built smooth and slender, just as Eyeful and Kourosh are.

The terrain in front of us was changing. I could see the flat lands with ragged patches of trees. They were sloping gradually into a region of rocks and hills cradling a branch that split off from the Danu Apara river we had just crossed. It was a formation called a gorge. The rocks that sloped into the gorge made a steep path, one that looked quite spooky.

It was then I heard the strange striking, pulsing sound. It was a THWAK-tunk! THWAK-tunk! THWAK-tunk! sound.

It was approaching us, coming closer and closer.

::What is it?:: I asked Eyeful, who was taking it all in with a calm demeanor. I knew, then, that this was a safe THWAK-tunk sound.

::It's what the Firemakers call a walking drum:: She answered me, and from her mind I got the image of the drum: a wooden container with skins on the top.

It was lighter and plainer than the drums that the River Rat monsters used to play when they were trying to hang me. The sound this one made was not ominous. Its "voice" was lighter, somehow more cheerful. And it seemed to grab something deep in me, pulling me into a rhythm.

Instead of cringing, I found myself swaying my head and neck in time to the walking drum.

I rather liked it.

::My Rider and I lead a lot of caravans of traders across the steppes of our home:: Eyeful explained as she strode along, taking us deeper into the gorge, ::Many of them rely on a walking drum. It helps the Firemakers to keep pace. Some Firemakers walk. Some ride on horses, rather inferior versions of me, I must add. Some use wagons like our caravan wagons, pulled by thick-bodied horses or oxen. Some ride on wondrous, yet supremely ugly beasts who have hump-mounds on their backs. That means a lot of living critters moving at all different paces. It could make traveling pretty crazy. The walking drum is played by a Firemaker on horseback at the front of the line. It sets the pace. All the others in the caravan match it so they all move together and make good time. Ahh, there they are, Lux!::

I leaned as far out of the basket as I could and still be safe. If I fell, it would be a long way down. And forget about being able to stop my fall with my wings!

We were still high up on the rim of the bluffed gorge. Bare rocks sloped down to a valley where the grass still seemed to be greener than up at this height. The small river channel wound through the gorge. (I had not known these words before, but now I did! More words for concepts seemed to keep springing into my mind each day, as if some long sleeping thoughts were finally awakening!)

The gorge eventually opened up onto rolling plains in sundown direction we were heading. Far in the distance were green mountains.

The ground seemed to ripple, and on the plains I saw a colorful flock of Firemakers and other creatures marching from those plains towards the gorge, following the river.

One Firemaker with leather colored skin rode at the beginning on a dark brown horse, one heavier boned and longer haired than the Turkmenes, and this Firemaker was the one playing the drum. He was accompanied by a hooded Firemaker riding a small, white, gazelle-like horse with incredibly long hair coming from its neck and tail. The hooded Firemaker was holding a very nasty looking spear,

The others moved behind them in a line. On each corner of the flock were other fierce looking Firemakers on horses, holding weapons similar to what Eyeful's Firemaker carries.

Of course, having been a guest of the River Rats, I knew very well what each of those weapons was- and more ways to use each one than I could count on my claws. After all, I'd been very carefully shown each method, and I had the scars to prove it.

I was guessing these armed and mounted Firemakers were some sort of guard for the caravan.

The Firemakers wore coverings in many styles and colors. I had no idea some of those colors even existed until I saw them. There were even some wearing so many colors they made me think of a … (the word dropped into my mind) of... a- a rainbow!

Some strips of colorful cloth with patterns also seem to be draped from wagons or poles, though I could not see the reason for that. Maybe some way to indicate a Firemakers' position in the line?

Our two Firemakers seemed pleased to see the procession. They chatted with each other, and Eyeful's Firemaker pointed towards some rock overhangs that seemed to make a good sized shelter. Kourosh started to bark, but the red –furred Firemaker spoke a calm word at him, and the dog silenced.

We continued to climb down the rocky trail to the bottom of the canyon. Eyeful had me slide back in to the basket and lean backwards as far as I could. I sat up on my back legs and tail, bracing against the back wall of the basket, but I managed to poke enough of my head upward to enjoy the sky view.

Apparently leaning back helped Eyeful keep her balance on the slope. Her Firemaker was doing the same thing.

I now started to smell the caravan: dust, Firemaker sweat, horses, oxen, dogs (I'm learning so many concepts from Eyeful and Ravenwing!) And lots of aromas and scents, pungent and sweet, that seemed to come from dried plants.

And also I smelled live food animals: chickens, a few sheep and goats. But nowhere near as many as what Ravenwing's and Eyeful's Firemakers had with their caravan. I asked Eyeful why.

::These are traders. They have to move long distances each day. Herding animals would take too long. Most of them, actually, rely on dried stores and game rather than flocks.:: the Turkmene snorted, ::It's not a good idea, overall, to have live flocks with a party this small. It attracts raiders.::

The horses paused for breath on a flat ledge, their breath beginning to steam in the cooling dusk air. We were now very close, just one more hairpin descent and we would be at the bottom. We still had a good overview of the sky beyond the canyon. I took the opportunity to poke my head and front legs out of the basket.

::They're coming from the north, probably heading south to the Caucasus or the Crimean to overwinter. Maybe they are seeking shelter in the gorge for the same reason we are:: Ravenwing said, his thought voice gruffer than Eyeful's,:: Unless they've just been dumb-lucky Firemakers. .::

The tough, lean gelding tilted his ears back, ::Hah! I can sense them. They're coming.::

::Who's coming?:: I was getting eager, my heart starting to beat faster. This day had been so full of amazing surprises. I couldn't wait for the next one!

And then I saw a beautiful flower of fire bloom in the sky, and I breathed in joy. This, truly, was amazing!

Another fire- flower, one more purply in color bloomed below the first.

::Oh, it's lovely.::

My companions did not seem to think the same thing.

Both horses stiffened, and I heard Ravenwing draw his breath in with a powerful snort. He thought-sent a word that made me bush around my face sensors.

Kourosh let out a throbbing, ominous growl.

I heard one of the Firemakers say something that sounded like, "Negeh kon!"

The other one growled, "Chi? Koja? Ha-le! Ejdehar!"

The Turkmenes began to move again, this time picking up speed as they descended the hill. I felt the pull of gravity, even with leaning backwards. This was too fast! Eyeful was going to trip and fall! I whimpered.

But nothing happened. It was not comfortable, but she got us down the hill without incident. As we reached the bottom, I felt her haunches bunch, and she exploded into a powerful jump that shot her off the hill path and onto the flat river valley floor.

Then the air was loud with thundering hooves as Eyeful peeled off into the fastest gallop I had felt on her yet.

I heard Ravenwing running behind me, and the voices of the riders hovering over the pounding hooves. They were yelling, screaming even, as they ran towards the approaching caravan. The red furred one even lifted his arms and waved them over his head, using only his legs and feet to stay stay on board Ravenwing.

They seemed to have switched to a different language now, one that seemed choppier, less liquid, and yet full of simple power.

Kourosh's barking became fainter and fainter as the horses outstripped him.

::Eyeful? W-what's going on?::

She did not answer, obviously focusing on getting her Firemaker over to the caravan. I knew I was not helping things, so I kept my muzzle shut.

Then I saw movement among the ever increasing fire-flowers in the sky, sinuous and snakelike forms rippling among the blooms.

A winged creature swooped down, powerful, scaled, purple-gold-green-blue... and amazing. Spines erupted along its neck and down to its tail. I could only catch glimpses of it since Eyeful's galloping was so bumpy that it bounced me about and blurred my view.

But one thing I could say: next to the black dragon, it was most the most beautiful creature I had ever seen.

It was gliding down sailing into the canyon in our direction, coasting behind us. Its beautifully patterned wings stretched out. Even in the twilight, they seemed to sparkle with color.

Scales. Wings. Breathing fire. I put together the facts the black Lightning Breather had told me.

And then I realized it was a dragon!

Like me!

I was seeing my first dragon in real life!

I roared (well, squeaked) in joy and turned myself to face completely backwards. I flung myself up higher in my basket, the wind from Eyeful's speed pushing my ear sensors forward so they almost covered my eyes

::I am here! I'm a dragon, too! Hello! Hello! Greetings!::

The dragon cocked its head, hearing my thought voice and then angled towards us. It had heard us and wanted to talk to us! Lovely!

::Talk to me! Oh, you are beautiful! We are here and ...::

::...And, holy crud, we're dead!:: Eyeful snarled, ::Hang on, Rider! Hang on, Lux. This is NOT gonna be pretty!::

Eyeful must have spun on her hind legs because she suddenly whipped hard to the left, slamming me against that side of the basket. Her Rider grunted as he was thrown to the left, but he caught himself, cat-like, and then leaned into the turn with his mare.

Now Eyeful was galloping right under a bluff overhang.

::Duck, RIder! Duck, Lux!::

We both did, but I still heard the bottom edge of the bluff scrape along the Firemaker's back and his grunt of pain. Then we shot out from under it, but not before I heard a loud THUD! I looked back to see the beautiful dragon had crashed into the overhang, unable to pull itself up quickly. It flew upwards, roaring in dizzy surprise and plummeted, slamming to the ground.

I barely saw it stand up again shaking its head in surprise.

Then we were exiting the gorge, now entering the plains where the caravan was.

::It was just trying to say hello, Eyeful!:: I yelled at her, ::Can't you understand? Why did you want to hurt it?::

::SILENCE LUX!:: I had never heard the Turkmene's mind voice so sharp before, and I could not help let out a trill of surprised hurt.

Hadn't she told me her people were friends with dragons? Why were we running from them? Hurting them?

Most of the dragons seemed to be emerging from the west, the sunset direction. The colorful one that had flown into the gorge from the east was the odd dragon out.

Most of the dragons were still mass of wings and flower-flames against the sky. But, I swear I had never seen such lovely creatures. So many colors, so many sizes and shapes. So many colorful flower-bursts of fire against the darkening sky.

My People! They were coming to welcome us!

Was one of those a dragon who looked like me... a Smart Ass Dragon?

I clambered out of the basket, leaping to onto Eyeful's plunging back, balancing myself on the packs tied behind the saddle back. My stiff wings automatically flew open as far as they could, twinging in pain. They could not open all the way, but they still helped to balance me on the Turkmene's back, complementing my clawed feet as I clung to the packs.

::Lux! No! Get back in the basket! NOW!:: Eyeful blasted me with an angry thought-command :: THESE DRAGONS ARE NOT OUR FRIENDS!::

I could not understand what she meant by that. Here they were, coming to greet us, making beautiful fire patterns in the sky.

How could they NOT be our friends? I had waited for years and years, suffered in misery at the hands of River Rats, never knowing who I was. Finally my People and my destiny were in front of me. I would not let this opportunity burn into ashes!

So I roared with every bit of (uh, squeaky) power that I had, ::I am here, brothers and sisters! I am LUX! I am one of you! Welcome and greetings! I want to learn about you, to be a part of your tribes and your Peoples!::

Someone heard my cry. Wings flapped in dignity, a heavy body swooped down and then I was scooped off of Eyeful's saddle packs by a dragon's claws. I wanted to trill in joy, but instead I screamed in pain.

The dragon's claws dug into me, pinning me into a cage of scales and bone and talons. Pain flared along my sides as I saw Eyeful's strong and capable back and her strange but kind Rider suddenly grow smaller and smaller beneath me. I was being lifted in the air. Flying!

It should have been amazing, but it hurt. This wasn't the way dragons should greet one another! The black dragon had been cynical, but he had never tried to hurt me!

::W-what are you doing to me?:: I thought-sent as loud as I could, ::You're hurting me! I come as a friend!::

The clawed foot was a prison, I realized, when I looked up and saw a face of red and brown stripes and an angry golden eye, its pupil slitted, gazing back at me.

I may be a little kid of a dragon, but I still know what an angry, deadly eye looks like.

This dragon's eyes were even worse than the cruel eyes of the River Rats when they tortured me. It did not seem to be even fully aware of what it was doing.

This dragon's fierce eyes had no life behind them whatsoever. It did not even seem to notice my cries. Its eyes almost seemed as if invisible clouds had filled them, obscuring the dragon's view of me.

::What's wrong with you!:: I screamed at it, ::I'm one of you! Can't you see?::

And then my memory stone picked up its thoughts, and my heart sank.

::Food. Food. You are nothing but food. SHE wants food. Must feed HER. Must help THEM. Must feed HER. Must help THEM.::

::But I'm a DRAGON, s-s-scorch it! I'm one of you!::

::You look like a dragon, but you don't act like one. You are a freak. Nothing more than food. Unless you are Initiated, you are not a Real Dragon. You're nothing more than Food.:: the dragon's claws gripped my sides harder, ::Accept your destiny, kitten. If you feed HER, you help THEM. You will have served a good purpose::

I should have fallen into tears, and I admit, my eyes were burning with them. But I remembered the words of Eyeful's Rider: I saw your life spark right away when we saw how you fought against your pain to fly away from the River Rats. We saw from your scars how you have bravely clung on through your suffering, fighting to stay alive. Your spark is very strong.

And so I hissed at the dragon and bit its scaled paw with my teeth. Hard.

I knew it would mean nothing to the dragon, but it meant everything to me!

Imagine my surprise, when there was a twang and a hiss, a thud, just as my teeth sunk into the dragon's paw a second time.

A roar of anger from the dragon. The world tilted as the dragon shifted its weight, reacting to the pain that came from a feathered stick now lodged in hits paw, just inches from my muzzle.

Below it I could see shaggy Eyeful, her equally shaggy rider holding a bow and pulling another arrow into it.

Another twang-hiss-thud! Another stick lodging in dragon's paw.

The red and brown-striped dragon roared and let go of me, pain warbling in its voice.

I found myself falling, cold air blasting up around me. I wanted to scream in fear, but instead I found myself laughing.

The dragon seemed to wobble and then plummet to the earth, its body shuddering. I stopped laughing.

Had those arrows been poisoned, like the strange powder that killed the Slithereen-maggot-thing?

Thwap! Air and motion stilled, and I stopped moving as a warm gentle pressure folded around my upper body, stopping my fall on a soft surface.

Something grabbed my shoulders, encircled my upper body with a thud.

And then I was being held close against a Firemaker 's bony chest, a pale arm encircling me, embracing me against spicy-smelling Firemaker coverings. I looked up and saw the chin and face of the red-furred one. And I felt the warmth as blood ran down hide that had been punctured by that red and brown striped dragon's claws.

I then looked down and saw the blue-black shoulders of a horse plunging beneath me and dirt clods flying up towards me, churned by hooves. I heard Ravenwing's voice, ::Hold on, dragon! Hold on! We are placing wards! Just remain still and let us do our work!::

I heard the red-furred one yelling something that did, indeed, sound like "Wards!"

I saw Eyeful, teeth bared, her strange, striped, red-yellow coat gleaming in the dying light, her rider leaning over her. The odd woven and beaded ties of his leather head covering flapped out to the sides like tentacles. The twisted-braided rope of his pale yellow hair flew behind him.

And I saw the various members of the caravan reacting as both Turkmenes galloped past the Firemakers, their Riders again yelling in that strange language. The words sounded like: "Fuge! Fuge in valle! Festina! Dracones oppugnabunt!"

It had a tone like they were begging the caravan people to run for their lives. I needed no translation for why they needed to run.

The Firemakers in the caravan yelled back words that sounded like: "Illi sunt dracones? Non! Nos interficient! Fugite, amici! Festinate!"

It probably meant something like "No kidding, dudes! Deadly attacking dragons it is! Allrightie, then! Move it into the canyon, mates! Today would be nice!"

The caravan began to move faster, cries of Firemaker, horse, hound and herd animal rising in fear and intensity.

The four roughl-looking men on horses who guarded each corner of the caravan broke away and galloped toward Eyeful and Ravenwing, their riders shouting at the Sarmatians. They had all hefted their weapons at the ready : bows and spears and swords, showing they were ready to lend aid in the attack.

Eyeful's rider yelled back, one hand cupped around his mouth so his voice would carry, " Nemo vincere draconem possum!" " and he added, more solemnly but just as loudly, "Unicus draco vincere draconem possunt! Non dracones!"

I guessed he was telling them it was useless fighting dragons. A no brainer: how could leather clad men on horses deal with large, scale-armored flying beasts that breathed fire?

::That later statement is a stupidly charming proverb among our people:: Ravenwing said in his sardonic way, ::'Only a dragon can defeat a dragon. And we're not dragons' . My, my, my Firemakers are masters of the obvious.::

The Firemaker holding me screamed out, "Es nobis!"

To me it sounded like he was asking for the four horsemen to help us. And several of them yelled something back that sounded like they took him up on that offer.

I watched as both the red furred Firemaker and Eyeful's rider reached into saddle bags and started tossing ordinary looking wooden stakes with strange runes carved on them towards the horsemen. Each horseman caught two stakes and listened to commands shouted by Eyeful's rider.

Then the horsemen galloped in different directions, heading to each side of the caravan: two behind it, and two well in front of it, just in front of the gorge entrance. Together, they formed each of the main directions.

Each rider pulled his horse to a halt and leapt off, the beast's leather mouth-rope now wound around an arm, keeping the horse still. It seemed to me their horses were awfully nervous and even fractious, not working with their riders like Eyeful and Ravenwing did. While their horses tossed their heads and pawed nervously, the riders summed their courage and jammed their two stakes into the ground- one next to the other. They then leapt back on their skittish horses and galloped back to the caravan, weapons again at the ready.

Meanwhile, my Firemakers were galloping behind the caravan, yelling out in that solemn language, urging the slower beasts of burden to hurry, I guess. Their efforts paid off as the Firemakers and animal began to move faster and faster to the canyon entrance.

Sheep and goats began to scatter in panic, and several Firemakers ran after them. Eyeful began to gallop on the fringes, urging the herd animals to move back in. Her rider had nocked a bow and was drawing it, offering cover for his horse as she herded sheep and goats.

I was very much admiring how he let her choose the path, trusting her judgment. It was so different from the other Firemakers on their horses, who had to both steer their horses with mouth ropes and manage their weapons.

A fawn blur streaked by and then Kourosh was there, barking, running, dodging. He took over from Eyeful, skillfully herding the sheep and goats into the canyon.

Amazingly, the creatures listened to the clever dog, letting him move them along as he ran at them, snapping and barking.

The sheep I was not surprised about. But the goats I was- I had seen enough in my time with the River Rats to know they are pretty stubborn creatures, but I guess they realized the dragons were up to no good, and it was time to finally be obedient... or be a dragon barbecue.

Two other dogs from the caravan joined him, following some sort of hierarchy as they all drove the small herd toward the protective gorge.

Eyeful and her Rider now rode back and forth at the end of the caravan as it made its way into the more protected gorge. Sweep to the left! Sweep to right! As the Turkmene ran, her rider fluidly moved with her, clinging to her only with his legs and his feet. The leather strips with the iron pedals seemed to help him stay on board.

Every once in a while he shot an arrow at a dragon, not to kill it but to knock it off balance. He also would whoop and howl like an angry wolf.

The loud noises seem to make the dragons lose their concentration and they would wobble.

The other Firemakers picked up on what Eyeful's howling archer was doing. Even while fleeing, they started to howl and yelp like wolves, and a few began banging on pots and pans.

I peered around the skinny red-furred Firemaker's chest to see that, in spite of our defensive maneuvers, the winged dragons were coming closer and closer, their blooms of fire lighting the now-dark sky.

The few who had swept in for attack so far had just been the fore runners, the scouts. The main welcoming (or kidnapping) party was on its way.

I now knew these dragons were not friends. They meant to grab and kill all of us on the ground. And I knew from that red and brown-striped dragon's glazed eyes and strange thought-speech that someone- or something- was making them act this way.

Their wing beats, once seeming primal and welcoming, now seemed threatening.

I found myself shivering a bit as I felt the red-furred Firemaker gently pull my claws loose from his coverings.

::Help us out, Lux:: Ravenwing sent to me, ::My Rider needs both her hands for this. Yes- don't gape. Your jaw'll stick that way if someone hits you. She is a female.:: I heard equine laughter and gritted my fangs.

::Just coil your tail around my neck and dig your claws onto my neck harness. It will keep you in place, little brother.::

I did as he asked, twining my tail around his sleek blue- black neck and digging my claws of my three working feet into the leather harness on his shoulders. I felt the Firemaker lift his- or her- arm from me, but I remained securely bound to Ravenwing by my claws and tail.

::That's it, kitten. You're doing fine! You may be small, but you have a lot of strength in your legs and tail. I can feel it!::

::T-thanks, Ravenwing.;:

::Yehyehyeh. Whatever. You can pay me back with some beer down the road. I prefer honey brew. Now, just be calm, junior. My Rider is utterly insane, but I think she has a good idea in mind this time. I'd never admit it to her face., though. Thanks to you letting her arm go, she can try it.::

::ooookayy:: I found my thought voice going all squeaky.

I heard rustling behind me as the red-furred Firemaker pulled open a saddle pack, and then a swishing sound as something was lifted from the pack. Then I felt the angles as Ravenwing shifted direction. My muscles moved with him, my body shifted to meet his shifts, and I realized I was getting used to moving with the Turkmene horses' movements. What should have been alien and evil was becoming second nature to me. It was like I was becoming a Rider, as much as the Firemakers were.

::Now, kitten, this is going to be a hard turn. We're going into half circle mode. Brace yourself::

A Firemaker grunt, and then gravity shifting as Ravenwing spun himself sharply around, turning around to face against the approaching dragons.

Again, I made the turn smoothly, draped across Ravenwing's shoulders, gripping onto his neck and chest harness by my tail and claws. It was if I had ridden on a Turkmene all my life. I purred in surprise that it had gone so smoothly.

::And now for the Draco. This'll be nice. Enjoy the show, Lux::

I looked up to see the red furred Firemaker was now holding a golden object high above his- no her- head, supporting it with both hands. Her legs and the iron strir-ups kept her glued to Ravenwing's back.

My view was awkward, but it looked like the object the Firemaker with the pale hide and red fur was holding above her head was a golden dragon head mounted on a platform. The dragon head was very lifelike, from its scales to its elongated, fanged head and long, floating ears, and the gold-wire tentacles that seemed to float below its muzzle.

Ravenwing came to a halt now, pawing the ground, but his rider remained in her position.

::Peace, Lux. Peace. Be calm. That is how you can help us. I'm going to rear. Just be ready to deal with the backward shift. You can do it. Your balance is very good, kitten.::

I felt the world tilt backwards as Ravenwing reared, and I saw his powerful blue-black shoulders plunge as he flailed his front legs. His sparse mane blew back in my face and I snorted it out of my nostrils.

Behind me, I felt the red-furred Firemaker expertly angle her body forward to counterbalance Ravenwing's rearing.

The battle scarred gelding neighed in defiance.

::Yo dragons! You want a piece of me? I'm right here! Dinner on the hoof, medium rare and rearin' for a fight!::

Ravenwing might be seen as skinny and wiry, but he was full of power, and I felt admiration for this slender horse who faced a pack of invading dragons with such attitude. His thought-voice spoke of his toughness and, from it, I knew this was a Turkmene you did not mess with unless you wanted a few scars on your hide and some cracked ribs on the side.

I saw the encroaching invaders coming closer, more fire-blooms lighting the sky.

And then something odd happened. I saw no bright flashing light or purple powder. I heard no clap of thunder. In fact I saw or heard nothing, but I felt a deep thrum, as though something was awakening from a long sleep. It shook along my hide and bones.

As a matter of fact, it was four thrums, coming from the four directions where the caravan guards has planted those sticks, those "wards."

The thrums seemed to run together into one huge THRUM, which happened to be right over the head of the metal dragon Ravenwing's rider held.

Again, there was nothing visible.

But there was plenty that was not visible.

I could feel those invisible pulses, feel them like a broad force that seemed to spread out from the metal dragon head, forming a broad band and then a broad shield. And then a broad wall, one that blocked us and the caravan and the gorge from the approaching dragons.

The dragons had reached us and then seemed to hit against a barricade, being scattered back from us as if they hit a wall.

::Ohhh. Yes!:: Ravenwing snorted, :: Can't you read the signs? This ain't a welcome mat, ya winged geckoes! In case you have a small reptilian brain, I'll translate. It says: 'No dragons allowed!' Here's a hint: that means you. ::

He thumped back onto all fours, snorting as the invading dragons tried to attack again and were repelled by the strange shield. He whinnied and pawed the ground, and I found myself purring at his insane courage.

::Really, can't you get the idea, dragons? We don't want to hurt you, even if you want to hurt us. Go home. Have some dragon beer - or fire wine- or carbonated lava or whatever you critters drink. Just leave us alone. We have nothing you want. Playtime is over. Go home, okay?::

Instead, the dragons tried it a few more times, each time being thrown away by the strange Thrumming force field.

Eventually they got the message and turned around, heading back west, flying to the mountains in the distance.

The caravan had now escaped d into the gorge, fanning to find shelter under overhangs.

::Now we will need to move the wards into the gorge and set them up to protect all of us from further attacks:: Ravenwing said with a snort, :: By the way, junior, good job back there. I'd swear you were born on a Turkmene. ::

::Th-thank you,:: I said, making a little joke as an attempt to stop my shivering, :: But I think I was born on a Tuesday, actually.::

::Work on the humor, dragon.::

The next thing I knew, Eyeful was by our side, and the red headed Firemaker had lowered the metal dragon head back down in a solemn way.

::Lux!:: Eyeful called to me, ::You're okay, thank the Sky Lady! And you're a stupid, hoof-cankered stinking idiot! Can't you take our advice seriously?::

I dropped my head, ::I didn't before, but now I know. I thought they would accept me as a friend once they saw I was a dragon, too, but that dragon almost killed me! He said I was not a real dragon. ::

Caravan Firemakers were now coming over to us, cheering at us.

And Ravenwing, I swear, actually dropped into a bow.

The Firemakers called to us in joy.

"Gratias vobis ago, Vikinges!"

"Vikinges estis!"

::Heh!:: Eyeful snorted, ::Again, with the people thinking we're River Rats! What's up with these Firemakers? Not all that has blond hair is Viking! We're Sarmatians! Not River Rats on horseback!::

I felt warm breath as Eyeful snorted over my back. I used that as a cue to jump from Ravenwing's shoulders, landing across Eyeful's more slender- but just as rugged- shoulders. I was only becoming aware of the itchiness and the blood still running- more slowly- from that dragon's claw-marks on my hide. They did not seem to be deep, thankfully.

::I'm sorry. Eyeful::, I told the scrappy war-mare regretfully::The only dragon I have met is the black dragon, and he seemed so clear and fair minded. These dragons seem less aware, and they don't seem to like any of us. Me included, and I am a dragon! Do dragon normally act this way- or is something making them act this way?.:: I purred and rubbed my face against her neck, also catching her Rider's hand in the effort.

::Indeed, kid:: she answered me bluntly, and I felt her Rider pat her neck, and then drop his arms around it to hug her.

Eyeful nickered and turned her head back around to touch my muzzle ::That is why we are on this mission. Something is turning dragons into mindless enemies. We have to find out who is controlling them.

Before the dragons destroy us. ::

I had my own worries. That big dragon had said I was not real dragon. Did I only just look like a dragon? If I was not a dragon, then what was I? And why did real dragons seem to hate me?

A/N- Hope you liked it and the build up of what kind of threat our heroes are facing. I want to make clear that this is not going to be a repeat of what Hiccup and Toothless faced- there will be some twists and complications here that are different- and our heroes have to deal with it in a different way. This chapter got into more Heinlein sci fi stuff, but I did not want it to get too "out there." I still always want to have a Medieval HTTYD theme in my stories, even if there are some funny timeline things going on in the background.

If all goes well, I will be back in Iceland and hopefully have some more time to update another chapter! Thanks, my friends, for being open minded to read my fanfictions, which are off the wall for the HTTYD universe while trying to honor it (and proud of it). I am lucky I have readers like you who take the time to read my stories THANK YOU!

Translations

"Negeh kon!" - Look there!

"Chi? Koja? Ha-le! Ejdehar!" -What? Where! Hey! Dragons!

"Fuge! Fuge in valle! Festina! Dracones oppugnabunt!"- Flee! Flee into the valley! Dragons are attacking!

"Illi sunt dracones? Non! Nos interficient! Fugite, amici! Festinate!"- Those are dragons! They're attacking us! Run, friends! Hurry!

" Nemo vincere draconem possum!" - No one can win against a dragon!

"Unicus draco vincere draconem possunt! Non dracones!"- Only a dragon can defeat a dragon! We're not dragons!