Chapter 10: Farna's Mindhold
Disclaimer: I don´t own any Terrible Terrors. Those belong to Dreamworks and Cressida Cowell.
"Do not confuse "duty" with what other people expect of you; they are utterly different. Duty is a debt you owe to yourself to fulfill obligations you have assumed voluntarily. Paying that debt can entail anything from years of patient work to instant willingness to die. Difficult it may be, but the reward is self-respect."- R. A. Heinlein, The Notebooks of Lazarus Long
Smoke now seemed to be the replacement for air as we picked our way around the carnage.
It's too hard for me to describe in detail. These were our bunkies, our troop mates, the ones we joked with and drank with and shared our deepest wishes and fears.
Now we could not recognize them except for a few identifiers, mostly metallic ornamentation on uniforms.
It was a backhanded compliment to Setareh that her fine metal craftsmanship on this armor had survived in many cases- but probably also meant the occupants of the armor had boiled in their casings.
The armor had been designed to fight humans, not dragons. Even when we took on the dragon attacks in Nowheresville, our strategies had involved using guile and decoy tactics rather than straight on attacks.
Ravenwing took it the calmest. He had told me during our short time together that he actually had been one of the few Turkmenes who had bonded with another Rider before he had bonded with Setareh. This Rider had been an elderly soldier, and Ravenwing had served in a few raids in Pannonia and seen much battle against steppe tribes.
He was used to this, and his calm demeanor probably kept the rest of us trembling souls from dissolving into screaming, neighing, squeaking, barking bundles.
I was fighting constantly the instinct to flee up from the ravine into fresh air. Gatalas and Setareh were both looking visibly sick, faces pale and blank with shock.
It was probably hardest for Gatalas since he had known these men best of all of us. He moved with me, holding with one arm on the handgrip, his teeth clenched in a combination of determination and revulsion.
Lux just looked bewildered, but he whimpered a bit from time to time, perhaps understanding the scope of what his People could do. He was now back in the basket, once again a frightened and sorrowful dragon kitten.
::Dragons did this. Dragons did this. I could do this someday. What if I didn't mean to do it and I still did it because I was mad? Or what if I became crazy? And I killed good people who were just helping me? Awful!::
I don't think those thoughts were meant for any of us, and I pretended I did not hear them.
Kourosh refused to come into the ravine, just watching us from the top. I got the impression from his posture that he was both unwilling to come down and very willing to keep an eye out for predators that might attack us in the Ravine.
A sad tally had begun and, after some miserable walking around the new cemetery, both the Firemakers began to realize this was not the whole unit, just one of the squadrons. Somehow they had been split off from the others.
::Or were split into companies?:: Ravenwing wondered. His military experience, though limited by a Turkmene's smaller brain (compared to a Firemaker's) was still the best of all of us.
I saw a small flash of color under the thicker tones of black and gray and white powder. Pawing at it, I exposed a ragged square shape of blue green overlying scales. Gatalas bent down and picked it up, borrowing my eyes.
On the other side it was leather.
Setareh's blue eyes narrowed. This was part of her work, too.
"Side Stranglers. " she said in a deceptively calm voice, "It's their unit."
Gatalas let out a choking growl as if holding back swelling emotions, "Poor bastards."
Ravenwing continued to examine the destroyed squadron, ::Looks like they got met by a wave of attacking dragons who forced them backwards onto this hill. It's logical to seek high ground in an attack against Firemakers, but against dragons?::
He snorted, sending ashes scattering from the ground where he now was nudging debris with his pink and black-speckled muzzle.
I translated this for Gatalas. Setareh, of course, heard it from her companion.
"So, they got surrounded and, as they were picked off, they bunched together more and more, making themselves easier targets to pick off for the dragons." My Rider said, "I guess that's then where they decided to form the circle and set up temporary barriers… and the T-turkmenes sacrificed themselves"
"Gods bless their doomed souls." Setareh whispered, her voice rich with tears, and she lifted a hand in a benediction that seemed pretty useless to me. But the Firemakers might take comfort from it, "I just hope it was fast for them."
Gatalas and I exchanged a look, blind eyes meeting sighted. Battles usually are very fast, even though they seem to take a long time during the actual incident. But where fire is involved, we knew it was a hard way to leave this world.
Gatalas leaned on me as I walked down the other side of the hill and further toward the ravine.
Here we could see burnt corpses in an irregular line, zigzagging towards the deepest of the little ravine. They were all Firemakers. One still hung from the lip of the ravine as if the Firemaker had tried to climb out and been killed by something striking him from above, but the body got wedged in a crack as it fell back down.
"I guess eventually Firemaker nature took over- a last survival instinct," Gatalas said, picking up the horrid sight from my eyes, "And there was panic as stragglers tried to run into the ravine. And the result lies before us."
I saw something scattered around the Ravine and pulled Gatalas, who stumbled after me. I snorted at several of these objects and finally lifted one in my mouth.
Good old curiosity.
Gatalas took it from me and handed it to Setareh, who turned it in her now soot blackened hands. Ravenwing looked over her shoulder nudging her in support.
"It's not Sarmatian. Looks like the dragons were not the only ones attacking our comrades. The dragons obviously had help."
Now that I pointed it out, we began to pick out more and more of these arrows until we realized the area was littered with them, but they had been covered by ash
We even now saw them sticking out of some of the corpses, along with several poor Firemakers who had limbs hacked off.
It was I, again, who found the next fun treasure, lipping and pawing at a fallen Turkmene corpse until I could get enough of the object to pull out with my teeth.
"Draco," Setareh croaked, dismayed at seeing the shattered remains of the Draco standard chipped and bludgeoned and smashed by what was obviously Firemaker implements. The pole was nowhere to be found.
I winced, realizing the Turkmene in front of me had been the eager little bay and the small, charred Firemaker behind him had once been the optimistic young teen who had been the standard bearer. I could only imagine the disillusionment he must have felt as he saw the end coming.
But his hands still grasped out, showing he had been clenching the pole as he died. It had been pulled out of his hands and the Draco head desecrated, seemingly by Firemakers.
He'd held the standard high until the very end.
"The Draco," Gatalas said, echoing Setareh's words, "If the Draco was here… and the Draco marks the Scepter Holder…"
"Oh, no… Banadaspos. No. He was with this unit!" Satareh choked.
Just like with our attack on the River Rats, the prince had positioned himself with the Side Stranglers.
I did not want to know which corpse was his or his loyal Turkmene's.
Both Firemakers were hunched shouldered now, heads drooping. And I drooped mine, as did Ravenwing.
We'd not only lost the Side Winders , but our tribe had lost its leader.
The odd thing was that there were two enemies here: Firemaker and dragon. Firemakers and dragons are enemies in this part of the world- and even in Asia, they would not be close enough to humans to fight with them. It just was not possible.
My only, poor, guess is the dragons somehow came near the end of an attack or ambush by Firemakers, making their night raids. They probably chased away the humans and then finished off the last of the Side Winders.
But how could a cunning Sarmatian unit allow themselves to be overtaken so easily?
Mysteries. And sad ones.
"So, what do we do, now?" Setareh asked hours later as she and Gatalas huddled over a miserable campfire.
We horses waited, still tacked up, our breath pluming out as the temperatures dropped. At least our Riders had draped blankets over us to keep us warm.
Rain had fallen earlier, a small shower, but one to make everyone slimy-wet and miserable in the cold. It seemed even the sky seemed to be gloomy.
Lux remained in his basket, shivering. I tried to convince him to climb out, but he refused to. I hoped he would not go torpid in the cold.
Stubborn kitten.
The rain had fallen as we had ridden around the perimeter of the ravine, assessing the damage to its fullest and trying to recover anything of value beyond the smashed Draco. We did finally come upon the pole, surprisingly undamaged beyond a few chips in the wood. Probably the Firemakers- or, less likely, dragons- had discarded it on the top of the ravine when they discovered it was not made of any precious material.
It was solely the Side Winders, the Riders realized. Indeed, no other unit had been positioned here. But where were the others, the Lave Breathers and our own Sand Spitters? We saw no tracks of them, and Gatalas sensed nothing of them in the far off wind- scents of horses and men.
Setareh also performed the song prayer of the dead, riding around the rim of the ravine and singing quietly to Marha, god of fire and life, and Anahita, goddess of war and water. She sprinkled earth into the ravine, a pathetic attempt to bury bodies that would take too long for two Firemakers to bury individually.
I knew there was an edge of worry to her prayer songs. These soldiers had been burned, and burning a Sarmatian body was a desecration to Marha. The souls would be damned, never able to obtain salvation.
Gatalas brought up the point that it had most likely been dragons that had burnt our colleagues' corpses, not Firemakers. Therefore, our brothers and sisters were not cursed. Dragons were the tool of Marha, and so perhaps the fact they had died in battle and been "fire buried" by dragons was a blessing for their souls.
That seemed to have given Setareh some comfort. She squeezed her Firemaker friend's hand in gratitude and then rode ahead, continuing her rituals.
Tears had run down her ash-grimed face, and Gatalas had been trying hard to hold his back, but it was a struggle. In spite of his blindness he could still cry, but the faint scarring on his face made the tears track down in a way most Firemakers found disconcerting.
Now he and Setareh rubbed hands and hunched into themselves, trying to find warmth in the grease sealed outwear coats that kept the rain off their bodies.
Neither made a move to try and eat anything. I couldn't blame them. I felt mighty sick to my stomach, as well. I was not surprised to see earlier that Setareh had stumbled off behind some rocks and come back a few moments later, wiping her face with a sleeve.
"We should go back and let the priests know what happened. They were right that Banadaspos' Dragon Unit had no chance against the dragons here," Setareh continued.
Gatalas pushed a loose strand of wet hair behind an ear and blew on his hands to warm them, "Yes. Seems logical, but there's that question of why there were humans here? Shouldn't we be trying to find out more before the evidence goes cold. You priests have already shown that you are people who try to understand the world around you rather than try to dominate the rest of us with mystical powers.
" I think your fellow priests would want to find out what might have happened to the other tribes and who these strange humans were."
Setareh nodded, her expression in an odd daze, "It makes sense. I just hope there's not anything out there that'll take us down, too, so the priests never know what happened."
"It's a risk we have to take," Gatalas said, rubbing a hand over his stubbled jaws.
A snap echoed through the wooded ravine, sending some ravens fluttering overhead, their caws sounding like mocking laughter. Water droplets spattered down from the oak and ash trees, spattering on the sodden carpet of wet autumn leaves.
All of us startled, both we Turkmenes snorting in warning. Kourosh let out a warning bark, and Lux snarled softly in his basket.
A knife snikted as it came out of it holster, and then Setareh was holding up a rather nasty little weapon.
"Show yourself, now!" Gatalas shouted calmly, turning towards the noise.
Dull thuds and then a leather-clad, pale figure ghosted out of the trees, seeming to float towards us. The pale colors seemed to gain a solid form and then resolved themselves into a Turkmene.
A bone pale Turkmene with pale blue eyes,
::Farna:: I breathed quietly, and Gatalas picked up my thoughts.
" Banadaspos' war horse. She survived," he said in soft wonder, "Is he still alive?"
"Not bloody likely," Setareh muttered grimly, wiping a tired, soot covered hand across her forehead and leaving behind a smudge mark.
There is an old saying among Sarmatians that a Turkmene will not leave his or her Rider. If you see one of us come back to the tent or wagon of our Rider, then you know our Rider has died. Otherwise, we will not abandon the Rider we love.
Farna approached us, her nostrils wide in caution and the white rings around her eyes so wide they almost seemed to resemble a Firemaker's eyes.
She stopped not far from where Ravenwing and I waited.
::Approach. Don't be afraid:: I advised her, worried about her unusually wary attitude. Farna was usually almost icy in her cool, collected manners
She was a mess. Her chamfron seemed to have been ripped off, for her bone colored face was scarred by claw marks up her jaws, bloody trails running down her neck and chest.
Various bloody spots showed where claws had scraped, and there was still the broken top of an arrow lodged in one of her flanks.
Her saddle girth had come loose enough for the saddle to roll over so it was almost under her belly, dragging the armed blanket along with it so part of it hung on the ground.
She snorted abruptly at us and tossed her head as if she did not recognize us.
::She's not all there, not without her Rider,:: Ravenwing thoughtsent, ::I remember how I felt when I lost my first Rider- like I'd been thrown into a cold and dark storm with no light to guide me. We return to our savage horse selves without our Riders. ::
::Farna! Don't you remember me, ma'am? I served under you!:: I called to her, ::I serve in the Sandspitters.::
She rolled her eyes and reared up a little, but then thumped back onto her four legs, grunting in pain from the arrow wound, I assume.
"Farna," Gatalas said softly as he stood up and stumbled toward me to borrow my eyes. He leaned against me, "Be at ease."
His voice was like magic, soft and gentle. It reminded me of warm sunlight streaming onto my shoulders, of the scent of summer grass as it rose into a summery afternoon. I knew he had a way with horses- both he and Darya did. It was something that expanded to other creatures, and it was no surprise to me that little Darya wanted to be a herd warden for the cattle and sheep and goats.
It must have worked on poor Farna, for she twisted her ears toward the noise and stood still, nostrils flaring, pulling in scents.
She then bucked and kicked in place, nervous. I could tell from her actions the deep-rooted horse instinct wanted to run and run from the mad loss, but the Turkmene part of her longed for contact and stability from a friend.
"That's it, Farna. Solh, zuleikah, solh," Gatalas' rough voice reached out to soothe, its tendrils of sound pure kindness.
It worked its simple, plain magic. Ravenwing let his breath out in a relaxed sigh. Kourosh wagged his tail hopefully. Setareh loosened her tensely-held shoulders. And a small purr thrummed from the basket attached to Ravenwing's harness.
Farna pawed the ground with a front hoof and tossed her head again, eyes now more blue than white. That was a good sign.
"Khoob, khanoum," Gatalas breathed softly.
::Your Rider is wise:: Ravenwing sent to me, ::Good for him to refer to her as a lady. She has to be reminded of her position as the commander's war mare. Even if he is gone, she is still tied to his memory.::
I felt love for my Rider, my simple and wild-looking Rider who so many misjudged for his strange blind eyes and shaggy barbarian appearance.
::Good on you, ape face.::
He smiled at that comment but continued talking to Farna, calling her a beauty, a lady, a noble hearted warrior who was needed. Somewhere in there he even sang a little song that horsemen sing to soothe frightened foals.
It seemed to work, and Farna finally walked up to us Turkmenes, dancing every once in a while. Her hide would twitch and shudder, and I knew it was her resisting that White Panic instinct.
"Khoob, Farna. Good. We need to get that harness off you. If you want to run away after that, it's your choice, but we HAVE to get the harness off you before your beautiful hide grows around it. There's a lady. Good. Good."
He leaned against me and stuck out his hand in the way Sarmatian horsemen are taught from the moment they feed their first childhood pony scraps of leftover bread: arm out, hand open flat, palm up, showing there was no weapon. Though blind, Gatalas looked away- another horseman's trick.
We foals drink in ancient knowledge along with our dams' milk, and one of those wisdoms is that creatures who have eyes in the front of their head are enemies- those who kill and eat horses. When such a being looks directly at you, it is a sign he or she is marking you and will attack. When a Sarmatian Firemaker looks away, he is showing he is giving you the chance to flee and he means no harm.
That ancient Firemaker horseman trick worked, and Farna stopped in front of him, sniffing his hand with loud snuffling noises.
She remained there, not placing her muzzle in his hand- this was not a Bond, but she was showing that she would trust him for the moment.
"Good, lady," Gatalas reached up slowly and placed a calloused hand on Farna's neck, now crooning nonsense words, but words that soothed, "Saa. Saa. Hoh. Hoh."
She let him calm her and move his hand to her harness. Blind as he was, his nimble fingers knew all the straps and buckles, and he pulled them loose, letting the beautifully tooled saddle and harness drop to the ground.
Farna let out a sigh and moan of relief- the unnaturally reversed saddle girths had, indeed, been cutting into her hide. As she did, Ravenwing and I quickly moved in to mindlink with her.
To our surprise, we were joined by a third mindlink- weak and silvery, but one as earnest as ours to reassure.
::Good on you, kitten:: I told Lux, surprised that he would decide to Mindlink, given his shock.
::I want to, Eyeful. I know how it feels to be alone and in pain. You gave me some light. All of you. Now I want to help you give her some light.::
::You're all right, grasshopper.:: Ravenwing sent to the little dragon, who now stuck his long head out of the basket and rubbed it against Ravenwing 's side with a little purr.
Surprisingly, honest work with the hands is an antidote for helping Firemakers cope. Taking care of Farna did wonders for Gatalas and Setareh. The two of them rubbed her down and cleaned her wounds with some vinegar. Setareh's blacksmith skills paid off in the efficient way she pulled the arrow from Farna's hip. Farna took it like a chieftain's war steed. She let out a growling noise of pain, but otherwise remained stoic.
In general, horses don't show much pain. It's one of our survival instincts to keep predators from marking us as weak targets.
The Firemakers doctored her with some of the tribal healer's ointment to cleanse and soothe her wounds, using bandages where they could. They counted one arrow wound and seven dragon-claw scars. Farna had been fighting like the devil to protect her ride.
Setareh tried to feed Farna a handful of the dried power feed we Turkmenes eat as trail rations. Most of us love it as much as bread (well, almost, fresh-baked bread is still the winner). The cream colored mare sniffed at the handful of rations and sighed, but she refused to eat them. She did allow Setareh to lead her, arm around a long equine neck, to the ravine creek for some water. It was ashy and foul with smoke, but it was the best available.
Farna's thoughts were jumbled at first: sensations of fear-fear-fear-run-run-run and of fire and smoke. She did not have coherent thoughts, yet, but as she relaxed she began showing us images. This was the simplest form of thought speech, the one most animals are capable of.
She remembered yelling and neighing, and we caught a thought about Banadaspos yelling commands bravely from on her back. And then he was crouching between her front legs on the ground, shouting orders, rallying his troops. And then Farna lying down on her side, begging him to use her body as a shield. And Banadaspos laying a hand on his partner's jaw and then kissing her muzzle in a loving farewell to a fellow soldier as they faced the end, together.
Heat rose, thunderous wings from the sky, and flames. Farna waited for the fire to descend on her and eat her hide and flesh. But something swooped over and then away, somehow leaving her.
And then smoke and darkness and Farna waking up, on the ground, to realize she was the only living creature on a hill strewn with the dead. A bony hand clenched on her neck harness, gripping to her hand grip in a final embrace. She knew Banadaspos was gone. She knew it.
And yet she felt a strange feeling in her deepest Turkmene senses that she should not leave him. Turkmenes never abandon their Riders while they are alive, but if they are dead, they go back home to tell the others of their Rider's passing. And, in rare cases like Ravenwing's, they may bond with another Rider- life and cycles go on, and if a Turkmene can continue to serve for good, there may be another Firemaker who will bond with him or her.
But something powerful in her soul told her she should remain here, though she knew Banadaspos had passed on, and his fire-burnt hand on her harness became cooler like the earth by the river banks.
She then saw wild-looking Firemakers moving among the smoke, probing our brothers and sisters for anything of value and, often, deliberately mutilating a corpse of a Firemaker or Turkmene with axe blows, rendering burnt bones into piles of disconnected bones. This seemed to have a symbolism, Farna guessed, a sense of finalism and revenge. And can a body be reborn if it is scattered?
Farna could not leave, so she played dead, feeling ashamed of it, but also respecting her instincts.
The Firemakers smelled of blood and fire and violence, and also very unwashed. It sickened Farna, as our Firemakers do clean themselves as regularly as they can with steam baths. But she steeled herself and remained still as the vile smelling Firemakers moved through the battle site.
They saw Banadaspos and Farna, but they did not hurt either of them. Apparently something about the way Banadaspos still was holding onto Farna from her neck grip frightened them. It seemed eerie, so other than cutting off Banadaspos' head, they did not harm either of them.
Of course that released Banadaspos from Farna's neck harness. Farna lovingly nuzzled his blackened corpse in farewell and then moved off. But the feeling that she needed to remain for her Rider was strong in her, so she remained, ghostlike, not far from Banadaspos.
However, the madness of bond separation was starting to overtake her by the time our little group came onto the scene. Luckily, we interacted in time for her to pull her shaken wits back together.
Gatalas knew we were not going to go much further today, and we all needed to rest after our shock, but we needed to get away from the graveyard and get into hiding. If it stopped raining and the dragons attacked, well, my dears, that would not be a lovely prospect.
Farna resisted leaving at first, and who could blame her? She had that geas laid on her to stay by her Rider. We all knew how strong her will was. Something in her would make her wait by her Rider's corpse and refuse to eat or drink until she faded away into death.
Ravenwing and I argued strongly with her, begging her to remember she was the Lead War Horse, even if her Rider had died. We came to some mental blows and shared some words I won't repeat here, but we wanted Farna to see that she was still needed. Eventually Farna retreated from us and let herself fall asleep for a few moments as our Riders packed the goods and made ready to move on.
When Farna woke up again, she was still upset at leaving her Rider behind.
::After all, I am waiting for my Rider. I know I have to wait for my Rider.:: She told us sadly and wearily, her thoughts starting to form clear words again :: I know he is gone, but something tells me I must wait for my Rider.::
Eventually she did come with us, after coming to a mental agreement with the Great Whatever in the Sky she was communing with that she needed to fulfill her obligation to her Rider by coming along with us as we rode from the battlefield.
We would leave with a lot of regrets, but it was necessary. Our comrades had given a lot there on that hill. We needed to make sure their last gift was acknowledged and appreciated- and used in our next missions.
So we rode out from that sad hill, Setareh singing a sad song of farewell, but a hope our fallen comrades would meet us again one day- another time, another place.
We made a sad procession as we rode onward, Farna limping after us. The beautifully tooled saddle and armor was rolled up and added to my load since Ravenwing was now carrying Lux and the basket. It was not that heavy- Setareh had done her work well to make harnesses and armor that were durable but also light to bear.
I had not been very close with the Side Stranglers, but I had admired their style and their fierceness in battle- and their incredibly lovely uniforms (I am a lady, can't help loving fashion trends!)
So, as we rode away, I remembered some of this brave unit. I remembered a roan mare who told lovely jokes to buck us up in our journeys. I remembered a very acrobatic bay gelding whose battle kick- especially the Leap of the Goat- inspired us all. He was the ultimate Turkmene warrior. I remembered Side Strangler Riders who sang lovely songs about love and family and the joy of small things in life the night before we rode into battle. And that eager young Draco holder and his equally eager Turkmene gelding- two lives cut short when they were just beginning their journey into adulthood.
Oh, brothers and sisters in your beautiful blue and green armor- and your blue-and green armored Riders. I will miss you all. I hope you find peace in your afterlife and that I will meet your souls again.
We found a cave to overnight in, and we all sheltered there. It was damp, but not too uncomfortable. Certainly, a much nicer place to hang our helmets than outside, where it was now raining quite hard.
Except for some bats in the roof, it was uninhabited.
We all liked bats- something about them reminds Sarmatians of little dragons- so we took it as a good luck sign that they would let us share their home for the night
They must have picked up on our quiet moves and good intents, since they did not flee. I wondered if they would fly out in the night for hunting, but I was not sure if they hunted when it rained. No w their eyes gleamed like jewels in the flickering light of the sad, soggy fire that Setareh and Gatalas managed to start.
At that point, Farna then let herself drop onto the ground in the reclining position Turkmenes sometimes use to sleep. We don't lie on our sides- that's slightly ever so fatal, but we do sometimes sleep in a curled up sitting position.
The fire gained some more fuel and courage, and it rose into a respectable enough cooking fire. Soon enough, the Firemakers and erected a camp tripod were boiling a small pot of water and slicing in pieces of lahndi, the dried, salted lamb meat that made up the brunt of their trail rations. A few hand toss of barley, dried onions and root vegetables and soon the soothing smell of hot stew filled the cave.
Gatalas often made this "roving stew" often on the trail. I had come to associate it with warm fires, sparkling stars in a night sky and the companionship of dragons or caravans we met with our work. So, even though, I am (mostly) vegetarian, the soup's smell did wonders to soothe my soul as the scent wafted through the damp cave.
Meanwhile, we Turkmenes, unsaddled and brushed down now wore woven nosebags, each containing few handfuls of the power feed. This is a sturdy, practical protein dried mixture of alfalfa, barley, eggs, mutton fat and a type of fried dough honey-cake. (Yes, I know I am a horse, but mutton fat won't kill me- especially if there is no high protein grain available).
I usually enjoyed munching on it because of the blending of the summery alfalfa and the honey flavors was so pleasant on the palate. It just lent that certain umph to the day. But now it just was a heavy lump in my mouth, and I gnawed it in silence.
Farna refused to eat it, still. She sighed sadly, snorted and just closed her dull eyes, lowering her chin to the cave ground. She was fading into her own world of sadness.
Kourosh whined softly, picking up on her sorrow in his own kind hearted canine way.
I was getting worried- when had Farna last eaten? We were going into cold region- she needed the energy and the "stick to the ribs" goodness of the power feed to keep her warm.
Ravenwing, however, flicked his ears back for a moment and tossed his head at me. I picked up his general thoughts, unvoiced ones, but still tossed gently in my direction. Farna had suffered a terrible loss, and it was not unheard of for Turkmenes to refuse food or water, mourning a dead rider. They would slip away mentally into their own peaceful sorrow, quietly fading away from life.
Also it was often vice versa for a human who had lost his or her Turkmene.
::I know you mean well, Eyeful, but this is Farna's choice.:: Ravenwing's rough voice stroked through my mind, seasoning with his greater wisdom, ::We have to respect it.::
I knew he was right, but watching a fellow Turkmene go through the Final Passage is not an easy experience. I still found it odd that she seemed to think her Rider was alive, while at the same time she was mourning his death.
What strange things seemed to be at work, here?
::Marha's holy dragon, lad, if you keep shivering like that you're going to make that basket come alive!:: Ravenwing's voice nudged my awareness with his irreverent humor, ::Come out and get warm, will ya, before you make that basket scream for mercy. Besides, we're cold, too. It's huddle time!::
::Yes, sir!:: I told Ravenwing, slipping up from and out of the basket and limping over to where the Turkmenes were resting together. I pretended to be casual, but I was secretly grateful. Some chill had wriggled into my spirit upon seeing those poor dead Firemaker/Monsters and their odd looking companions. (Oh, yes, of course- Turkmenes- that is what I need to call them, I told myself.)
The red-furred female-who-looked male Firemaker came up to me with a thin, cold metal bowl filled with steaming goodness. She split her lips from her teeth in a gesture of happiness, but I could see her deep blue eyes contained no joy.
She gave me a little dip of the body, something I picked up on as a gesture of respect.
A thought pushed at my mind, and I heard Ravenwing chuckling in my mind, ::You're being invited, Lux. My Rider wants you to have dinner, and she knows you're worried. She wants you to relax. She knows you're a good critter. She does not see you like the other dragons. And she's worried about them, too. She's a Sarmatian. She loves dragons.::
::Not if she knows what's good for h-h-:: I started to say, but the smell of the.. the... the... oh, dear. That smells lovely! Let me at it! Incoming Lux!
The metal bowl rang on the cave floor as Ravenwing's Rider set it down. I limped up to it, feeling a slink and grace to my body that had not been there yesterday- I must getting better!
I flicked out my tongue to taste the scent and could not suppress a purr of pleasure. Then I started to lap up the thick liquid, and wonderful sensations of taste pulsed through me. It was so warm, so chewy, so liquid, so... divine!
::It's just camp rations, kitten!:: Ravenwing laughed while Eyeful nickered in humor.
::Hey, mister! This is paradise to me! You try living on water and rotten food for a while- ever had weevils or worms in your food? I think I got introduced to every species of wriggling critter that ever existed, all happily living in my food- if you want to call it food. Trust me, it may be extra protein, but it does NOT taste good. And you just get sick and throw up afterwards, so you're hungry all over again. Might as well have not bothered eating! This, now, this is warm, and fresh, full of flavors. It is good and rich- and so perfect. I want to PURR! Yes! Thank you, Firemaker/Monsters!::
A moment of silence and then Ravenwing nickered, ::Thanks for that, kid. Sometimes I need to be reminded how lucky I have been. It's so easy to forget that the smallest pleasures in life are important.::
I licked a paw and scraped some precious gravy from where it had coated on my muzzle, :: Any meal I can eat that it is warm and good and fresh... than I am a lucky Smart Ass Dragon, indeed.::
The Firemaker remained crouched in front of me, watching me carefully.
::Setareh:: I heard in my mind, ::My name: Setareh. Do you have a name?::
I trembled a bit from the invasive thoughts, but they were welcome and full of warmth. So I found myself relaxing.
::Good, kitten:: Ravenwing chuckled, ::Told you she's been trained how to approach your People. Up to you how you respond. Just want you know, though, kid, she's only asking to talk to you- not to own you or control you. She's Sarmatian- she knows dragons better than that.::
The black gelding whinnied in a soft sound oddly like Firemaker laughter, ::Besides, grasshopper, she's bonded to me. She's my Rider. She's already experiencing the absolute perfection of Bonding that there can be since she is bonded to, well, a great and mighty warhorse like me. You're small barley grains compared to my magnificence::
He preened and cocked his strong neck in a way that was meant to be joking, but I could still see what a beautiful, magnificent warrior he was. A tall, slender but strong war horse whose hide gleamed midnight with bright glints of blue. He was proud of himself, proud of his Rider and happy with their bond.
And he wanted me to realize that what his Rider offered was friendship, nothing more. But, being Ravenwing, he threw in some irreverent sarcasm free of charge.
My admiration for him leapt up a few more notches, if that was possible.
So, I was not surprised to find myself summing up new found abilities and sending ::Greetings... Rider of Ravenwing. Sat- Air - Ray. I am .. Lux. I am a spark of light. And I am a Smartass Dragon. At least until I find out what dragon I really am.::
Setareh laughed, a low, rich laugh that had me purring, ::Good sense of humor, Lux-spark. But I think you are more than a Smart Ass dragon.::
::More? Well, who knows, Sat-Air-Ray? Maybe I will show that Smart Ass Dragons are something that will be a name all will praise and honor.::
::Given your courage and determination, Lux, I think that is very possible. But, still, there are prettier names out there than Smart Ass Dragon.::
She bowed again to me. I found myself wishing she held out a hand that I could rub against it, but I was- at the same time- rather grateful that she did not.
Some part of me still was repulsed by being near Firemaker/Monsters. Even if she and Eyeful's Rider had been so kind to me.
So, I was grateful for her bow. And, to my surprise, I nodded my head to her and was able to drop a bit on my non injured front leg to imitate her bow. ::Thank you for the meal, Sarmatian priest. And, I hope I will make the word and idea of a Smart Ass Dragon one of great honor.::
She picked up the now clean-licked plate, ::I think I believe you, Lux. And you are welcome for the meal. Thanks for joining us on our journey.::
She slipped back to the side of Eyeful's Rider, where he was now cleaning food containers with boiling water and a solution that made bubbles when dipped into water. I was tempted to try to chase after the bubbles, but I felt tiredness coming on.
Eyeful had me snuggle between herself and the sad bone colored Turkmene, and we all fell asleep as the fire burnt low.
During the night, Eyeful's Rider called out once and woke us, crying something that Eyeful listened to, her ears leveled back.
::This brought back some memories:: She whispered to me in mind speech, :: I so wish he would share them. He calls the same name, always, a "Gatayut" In Sarmatia, each child is given part of his or her father's name as part of his or her own. I hate that I violate the code of my Rider, but his name is Gatalas.::
::I know that:: I thought back calmly, :: I've heard you mentioning his name to Ravenwing.::
::True, true. I could not help it, but it is an error on my part. His name is not mine to give. I regret that. I only hope it will help him in the long run.:: She sighed, ::Anyway, what is done is done, and I hope he forgives me. So you know: Gatalas is the son of Gatretes. His sister is nicknamed, Darya, but her real name is Gatadarya.::
Eyeful's voice remained sad, ::That is why I think my Rider is remembering someone in his family he lost long ago... a sibling named Gatayut.:: She snorted, ::Just a theory on my part. I'm one who likes thinking and inventing. But this is only a guess I have. I cannot push my Rider, but I hope he tells his tale one day. I think he had a sibling he will not mention he lost when he lost his eyesight. And, I think he blames himself for it.::
Eyeful's thoughts were echoed by Setareh who leaned from her bedroll, curled near Ravenwing, to reach out nearby and touch Eyeful's Rider on the forehead, where he lay curled in his bedroll by Eyeful.
She whispered something and then reached over to hug him, gently, like a mother soothing a scared child.
He relaxed in her arms. She crooned a song to him and then gently released him, touching his forehead like a last breath of best wishes.
Eyeful's Rider fell into deeper sleep and we all felt more relaxed for it. It seemed strange how our whole little group seemed connected and united by each other's feelings.
When I woke up in the morning, I was strangely rested, and also strangely cold along my right side. I opened my eyes to see there was a whole lot of interesting empty space that had not been there when I fell asleep.
::She's gone:: Eyeful was saying to Ravenwing, worry in her normally hoarse and ugly and calm voice, ::I heard her leaving the cave last night. I woke up and saw her slip out. She and I looked at each other and, like a ghost, she slipped into the night.::
My sleep-filled mind woke up a bit, then, realizing that the Bone-Knapper white Turkmene was now gone, escaping on her own to claim her destiny mourning her Rider.
Such as it was.
::It's Farna's choice:: Ravenwing sent back, flicking his tail in stoic acceptance, ::You know she needs to go back to the caravan and share the news her Rider is gone::
::Yes!:: Eyeful was irritated and pawed the cave floor, sending up an amazing display of- well, nothing-no sparks, no light gloves, no steam. Just the sound of hoof hitting damp stone. Boring.
Caves are dramatic in and of themselves, but they don't lend to dramatic speech moments, ::I figured she would go home, but she still kept insisting she was waiting for a Rider.::
::Banadaspos is- errh- was her Rider, see? She has to go back to the caravan to let them know he is gone:: Ravenwing reiterated.
::I know, Ravenwing, honey. I know. But she still felt her Rider was alive. What if she just goes to the battlefield again and waits for him until she dies, a poor, noble living statue to the memory of Banadaspos?::
::That's crazy, Eyeful! Even her own memories showed he died.:: Ravenwing nipped at Eyeful's neck in gentle reprimand
::You're right, Ravenwing.. But, sir... she still believes her Rider is alive and searching for her. I can't deny it... and, I think, neither can you! You are more perceptive in this area than I, gelding!::
They seemed to argue a bit more, though it solved nothing, and their Riders had them move on, so they left the cave- me in the basket strapped again to Ravenwing's side, and Eyeful carrying Farna's harness.
Farna, though vanished in the night, seemed to fill everyone else's thoughts.
Those thoughts kept us company as we moved up north and west, heading for the green-blue-gold forested mountains on the horizon.
Light broke through watery clouds as we rode onwards.
My leg was feeling even more limber and it no longer had a dull ache in it when I tested my weight on it. I seemed to be healing quite fast, faster than expected based on the little gasp Eyeful's Rider made when Eyeful told him about my actions. He made that funny sharp sound humans can make by forcing wind through their rather unimpressive fangs.
The light gave some more hope to the gray landscape, and I felt my heart rise again as we rode further from that small ravine of sorrow. I thought about poor Farna and if she had gone back there to stand guard over her Rider's remains until she faded away.
I know it was her choice, but it seemed so sad she felt no will to live anymore. I know there were so many times I had wanted to die when I was imprisoned by the River Rats/Monsters. All those nights lying in my own blood or vomit and, all too often, my personal waste. Quite a few of those nights, I lay hoping my breath and heart would stop. Wondering if I held my breath or if I slit my throat open with a paw… would there finally be relief?
But there would be that deeper sense that dying was so… well… final. What lay on the other side? If there were only nothing, then was that like giving up on myself? If there were a cold afterlife for those who did not die in honorable warfare like I heard the River Rats discuss did I really want that, drifting about lonely and cold for eternity? Was dying worth that? Maybe there was an afterlife where I would have been warm and loved, but if I took my life, would I be denied that? Was my life even mine to take?
I think what kept me going was that feeling that, if I stayed alive and took my chance to escape, there was hope of a new life. But if I let myself die, then I would never have that hope of a second chance.
And then I got sicker and weaker until I did get very sick. Weak as I was, though, I did escape from the Monsters when fate gave me the chance. The sickness did me in, weakening me more, and I believe I was dying when Eyeful and her Rider found me. But I was dying in freedom. And that made a difference.
And, unexpected, almost as if I had died, I had been born into this strange new life as a traveling companion to strangely benevolent Monsters and their odd creatures who flew so fast without wings.
I'm glad I chose life and to fight hard to stay alive.
I must have thought that as an unintentional mind send because Ravenwing whickered softly ::That's the spirit, trooper. If there is hope at all of life, then cling to it. You're a young 'un, and you need to claim your future rather than let it claim you. You did the right thing.::
I sneezed at some water drops that bounced off a tree we trotted under. ::What about Farna? I worry about why she is giving up.::
::It's a hard thing for us to lose our Rider. And for a Rider to lose his Turkmene . When you share thoughts and are so compatible, it feels like losing part of yourself when your partner dies. I went through it when my former Rider died.:: Ravenwing said matter of factly
::You had another Rider? I thought it was one Rider and one Turkmene…::
::Usually, but in some rare cases- especially where one partner is much older than the other, the survivor bonds with another partner. There usually is a good reason for it. I think that's what happened with Setareh and me.::
Ravenwing's hooves made squelching sounds as he trotted through a path of mud and lead mold. He was so surefooted that he never once slipped.
::My first Rider was an old warrior, and I was a young and proud gelding. I learned a lot from him about battle manners and tactics. His calmness became my calmness, and his ability to laugh at the enemy in defiance matched mine so well. He was a man to admire, and unfaulting in his care of me. I was honored to serve with him as a friend. I like to think he was passing on knowledge to me that serves me well now, as Setareh's Turkmene. ::
::How did he…?:: I asked softly
::The way he always wanted. He got the Ice Joints that Firemakers get in their older years and it was harder for him to stay on a horse. One evening, after a sickness, he and I rode off from the camp to go "hunting". His family and friends seemed to know what was actually up, but they let him go, everyone hugging him one last time. We rode all day and took one magnificent race against a falcon. In the evening we slept by a fire, talking about the stars and their beauty. The next morning, I awoke and he had passed on in his sleep, just gazing at the stars forever.
::I rubbed his face one last time and trotted back to camp. When all saw me waiting by the family wagon, they knew my Rider had died, and they went to bury him. There was sorrow, but also joy that he was one of the few who had lived to be an Elder and died a free man. I was in mourning and refused to eat for many days.::
Ravenwing was quiet for a moment, visiting a past open only to him ::Then I saw the lonely, sick girl who had just survived a fever, who had been touched by Marha, it was said. And I felt no hesitation when I saw her resting in the sun outside her relative's wagon. I walked up to her and laid my head on her shoulder and asked to bond with her. She was surprised but hugged me, and I felt life in my soul again- and my neck felt awful wet from tears.::
::Ravenwing, come on!:: Setareh laughed and ruffled her friend's mane, ::I was crying for both of us. Horses can't cry, so I was doing you a favor, my captain!::
::That's your excuse, is it? Well, horses also can't vomit or hiccup. No stupid things like that for us! We are full of pride and dignity unlike our Fire- oof! That hurt.::
::Wimpy warhorse. Can't take it like a woman::
::You bullies are all the same. Think you can solve everything with your fists. Go pick on someone your own size—oh, right, there are no dragonflies out here- oof! ::
::Oh, sorry. I was trying to hit a dragon fly and didn't see you there, poor little, Turkmene.::
::Ever wonder what it feels like to fly? I'd be happy to show you, Setareh.::
I listened to this surprisingly snide exchange and then realized it was all in good humor. There was warm love for each other in their teasing.
I then thought it was obvious that Ravenwing, with his protective, confident, almost parental affection made a good companion for his often absent Minded young blacksmith priest. An experienced war horse also was good protection for her on her long journeys, as was the formidable hunting dog who now loped by Ravenwing's side.
Afternoon set in and the autumn sun began to coax some dryness into the ground. The terrain remained ridge like swells climbing up and marching down to interludes of flat ground where we would gallop.
The green and gold furred hills in the distance were beginning to get clearer and clearer as we moved closer.
Suddenly Gatalas and Eyeful took off into a gallop. I felt myself tense and heard Kourosh give a sharp bark and then take off after the mare.
::At ease, trooper:: Ravenwing told me, ::Stand down. This is normal procedure. You'll see.::
Brown blurs exploded from golden grass. A bow sang out, and then Eyeful was trotting in a circle. Kourosh dove into the grass and emerged, carrying a brown and white bird in his mouth.
::Dinner for the Firemakers- and Kourosh- and you, of course. This journey is gonna involve a good deal of grabbing and grubbing- fresh meat and grass is always the better option- and Eyeful and her Rider are among the best hunting team. We won't go hungry with them.::
I thought about that and felt a twinge of guilt. These Firemaker/Monsters had been so nice to me. They had washed me, healed my wounds and fever, fed me, kept me warm. They protected me and treated me as a friend, not a pet or a prisoner. What had I done for them? How could I contribute to this mission? Sure, they thought I was cute when I attacked grass blades and jumped after insects, but I wanted to be more meaningful than just cute and funny.
I think that's the reason I went after the prey when I saw it. It was my chance to bring something useful to the night's campfire.
It happened during a water break at a stream near some white and red lined bluffs. Setareh helped me out of the basket so I could take care of a few things that don't need to be described in great detail.
Ravenwing did teach me a few terms Sarmatians would say as polite cover ups for going to relieve your bladder in the woods. I think my personal favorites were "I'm going to go bird watching now" and "I'm going to go talk to a man about a horse."
I wondered if dragons have similar words and what they would be, and this was on my mind as I lapped up water from the stream and then limped back to my companions. I noticed I was bouncing along quite nicely, picking up my three good legs smartly, and my long, sinuous body would ripple up and down as I trotted. It was a sweet rhythm.
And the air became slightly full of rabbit.
Nice. Even if the air was slightly rabbity, the fragrance was more than enough for me.
I saw the freshly killed rabbit laid out on the ground, smelling so good and rich. I flicked my tongue, tasting the air. The strange sensors along my face and head thrummed a bit, and I suddenly got impressions of fresh, salty good blood, rich, warm flesh, rich organs, good fat. This rabbit had just been killed a few moments ago.
I had eaten enough rotten and tainted meat to know when meat is bad, and I could scent nothing in this meat other than what good ole nature intended. This was safe to eat. Better yet- someone had killed it and laid it right here for a clever dragon kitten like me to take back to my friends.
Oh, how they would praise me and be so impressed by my cleverness! (The "smart" in Smart Ass Dragon has to come from somewhere)! And I would be so proud I pulled my weight and contributed to tonight's meal. And I didn't even have to try that hard.
Sometimes I am so clever I startle myself.
Not.
There is truth behind those ancient words that all living creatures have known since the first lowly, slimy bit of life slithered its way from the primordial ooze into the great big world.
There Ain't No Such Thing as a Free Lunch.
I came up to the wonderful rabbit and took its neck scruff in my jaws, lifting it up and thinking, Hello dinner! Nice to meet you! Nicer to eat you.
Imagine my surprise when the ground erupted around me, exploding in dusty clouds around my head. I squeed in surprise and felt something smashing against me. I dropped the rabbit and found myself rolling and rolling, my tail curling over my head.
I rolled up against a hard object- a tree root, maybe, and found myself on my back, enjoying an amazing upside down view of the world set against the frame of my tail, draped around my head. Great.
"Lux! No!" I heard Eyeful's Rider's voice float through the dirt and then there were thudding hooves- two sets of them.
My upside down viewpoint showed a cloud of dull blurs- brown and gray, mostly, that suddenly swarmed around the upside down Turkmenes as they galloped towards me. Sparks of fire leapt in the dust, one giving a mighty FWOOOOM!
That one glanced off the bluff and rocks exploded. Suddenly the air in front of the two Turkmenes was swimming with small brown and grey and dull green creatures, creatures of fire and wings and claws.
::Dragons!:: I gasped in a mixture of sadness and joy. Great to see dragons. And, ever so annoying to see they were attacking my friends.
This was getting to be really irritating.
At least these fluttering, screeching creatures were tiny- not much larger than I, but there were a lot of them, and with their humming wings and warning bursts of flames, they came across as something like a swarm of bees. I could see the way they harassed Eyeful and Ravenwing. Eyeful's Rider could only smack his hands at them. He had his bow drawn, at first, but they were so small and fast moving, he had no chance of hitting them.
They had every chance of hitting him, however, and one did, blasting the bow from his hands with a nasty strip of fire.
Gatalas yowled in pain and anger and dropped the bow before it burst into flames. Eyeful neighed in anger and reared up to strike at the swarm of dragons. If it weren't for the strange iron pedals, her Rider would have fallen off her as he pressed his injured hand to his chest, growling in pain.
Instead Eyeful was the one who fell, since suddenly there was a thick rope of vines wrapping around her hind legs. The heavy vine rope was weighted on either end by a rock. She thudded onto all fours, just to have another set of a rope weighted by rocks wrap around her front legs, pinning them together. The impact of the blow threw her off balance she was knocked on her side.
Her Rider rolled off her and lay on his back, stunned by pain and the impact. Eyeful fought to stand up, uttering some thoughts that were not at all dainty and ladylike, but the two simple ropes- one binding the back legs and one the front legs- had effectively hobbled and downed her.
::If it weren't for these thrice bitten dragons, I'd swear I'd tried to invade the city of Byzantium!:: Eyeful snarled, ::Guess if you don't go to the Great Prison, it comes to you!::
"Or this is the Great Prison's dragon ghetto!" Gatalas hissed in anger, "And I'd rather like to know who taught these guys to use horse bolas!"
Loud yelping and then Kourosh was on his side, his legs tied up in a matching set of smaller bolas.
::They make horse bolas in dog size, too!:: Eyeful snarled in thought speech, ::I think we just hopped into the Realms of the Insane. I'm ready to wake up now, please!::
I then heard Ravenwing let loose some even less delicate and terribly savage thoughts as Setareh tried to pull out the Draco and hold it over her head.
The intentions were good, but Ravenwing stepped back right into a vine-rope that had suddenly appeared behind him. He tripped on it and fell onto his back.
The two little dragons who held either end of the rope released it and flew upwards, letting out a hissing sound I could only identify as laughter.
::Awww, crap! When I want your opinion, dragons, I'll give it to you!::
Setareh barely rolled off his back in time as he dropped to the ground, the Draco falling from her arms. It conveniently rolled far enough way from the forge priest so that she could not grab it. Well, at least not without getting covered in attacking dragons.
A ring of the dull colored, dragons dropped around my companions, now all made helpless within minutes. They watched the Draco with wide, mostly golden eyes, flicking their tongues to scent the air. A few little chuckle-purrs punctuated the silence, but mostly they observed us quietly.
They turned out not to be many- no more than the number of claws on all my paws, but they had seemed a greater force. And they had managed to knock down two tall horses and their powerful and clever Riders in a matter of moments.
Best of all, it had been my foolish- but well meaning- moves that had brought them down upon us. Of course no one leaves out a freshly killed animal unless they want to invite you for dinner. The freshly killed decoy would just be an appetizer.
For some strange reason, none of the dragons noticed me from where I had been tossed. So I decided to lie there in my rather embarrassing tail and hindquarters over head position and take in this strange show before me.
Finally, a rose gray and dull brown little dragon stepped to the front. The dragon let out a snarl, and I realized I could read its thoughts.
::Yo, prisoners. I have no idea if youse can read my thought-speech , being as youse are of inferior species. I will assume da best and expect da worst. Greetings, mates, and thank youse so much for droppin' in. Welcome to our humble fortress, lair of the Amazon Terrors, the feared Sticky Fire People o' dis savage realm! I should remind youse that resistance is futile. We's captured youse. Youse are our slaves. Or youse are our dinner. We's leave da choice ta youse. Once youse acknowledge dese simple facts, I think we'll get along splendidly. Youse may proceed to make up youses mind, now. ::
Something about the dragon's voice nagged at me, thrummed at something very basic in my sensors. The dragon was speaking very logical words, but there was something interesting about the nuances of the words about warriors. That this was not a typical dragon warrior.
It was a calm but very edgy Eyeful who recovered first and made the Mindlink invitation. The lead dragon snorted at such pagan, cute, peasant customs, but the dragon allowed its Mindspeech to open to Eyeful and the other inferior "non dragons."
::Thank you for the - uh- warm and thoughtful welcome. It's always nice to have a chat before you disintegrate us.:: Eyeful said in her husky thought voice, ::I really do hope, though, that our bloody and spattered remains aren't TOO hard for your dragons to clean up. Us being inferior and non dragons and all. I would hate to think we insulted your kind gesture of hospitality by messing up your beautiful Fortress thingie. Just forgive us, because we did not see any sort of Fortress here, or we would have given this area a wide berth. Now we'd be ever so grateful if you would let us go. We're rather in a-::
::Silence, inferior life form!:: the lead dragon said in its fiercely cute- and very deceptive voice- I had no doubt believing these clever little dragons were very dangerous indeed.
And I was beginning to realize that these skillful fighting dragons all were female. Every single one of them.
Gatalas had reached out his good, unburnt hand to touch against the downed Eyeful's striped shoulder, gaining her eyesight "No need to get personal, your- uh- supreme smallness- uh highnesses, uh, majesties, uh cute fireballs of death, uh -whatever superior label you want me to insert here." Eyeful translated for him, and I heard the spokesdragon chirp in surprise,
The dragon probably had not expected a lowly Firemaker to talk directly to a dragon as though it were intelligent.
::We's are not cute. Yer not impressing me so far, hairy ape face. Be careful o' what ya say next, Firemaker.::
"I would guess, based on your appearance, you are kin of the much admired and feared Sticky Fire Breathers", Gatalas said, teeth clenched beyond the pain, but his voice forced into calmness, "What most Firemakers call 'Terrible Terrors.' But I admit we've never seen any as clever as you with using some tricks we Firemakers would use."
::True:: Ravenwing snorted softly, ::They look like Terrors, but their coat colors are so much more- - subdued and dull- compared to what I think of Terrible Terrors.::
"They don't hide underground either, usually," Setareh picked up on this, still unsuccessfully to reach an arm out for the fallen Draco up, "And they don't use such clever traps and snares as you do, your, uh- magnificence."
::Don't insult me and my band of brave warriors by comparing us to dose Western lowlife scum:: snorted the leader, ::I knows of dese Sticky Fire Ones, da ones who live many days' flight from here, where tda land ends in da great island studded ocean, and da sun sinks into da stinkin' ground each night.::
The dragon lifted a claw and made a show of trimming it with a snap of her very sharp beaked mouth. ::Dey are related to us, yes, sadly. And deir coats are brightly colored, all colors of da friggin' rainbow, oh so pretty. And so dumb. We 's of da Eastern lands say da Sky Lady compensates for deir lack of brains by makin' dem olorful. Makes 'em easier targets and keeps the population under control::
A moment of silence while the spokesdragon washed her face with a paw, trying to show she found us all incredibly boring and beneath her band of lady warriors' time. :: We's of da eastern lands have learned much from Firemakers in our wanderin's, enough that we've picked up a few of deir tricks. So we's may be dull in color but we's shine in our ingenuity. We's wanderin' Amazon Terrors are well known and respected in dese parts. My name is spoken by other dragons wit' fear. I am Purple Sonja, dreaded demoness wit' my death bolt flames. And I am the leader of da Amazon Unit, the legendary all-female band of dragon warriors::
Purple? I did not see a speck of purple on this so-called Sonja's hide? No! Not even purple from bruises. It was perfectly clay-rose brown, gray and gray-green. Nice and dull.
The Firemakers and the Turkmenes must have looked as perplexed as I, for Purple Sonja snorted and snarled, ::Pathetic non dragons You are only seeing the here and now. You are not seeing what lies beyond the surface. We Eastern Terrors are deadly in our colors. You are just not looking hard enough. My purpleness lies within me, and it is a savage purple indeed::
"All rightie, this just officially got too weird for my comfort," Gatalas muttered and then spoke louder, also amping up his thought speech, "This really is not accomplishing anything, ladies. why don't we just all go home and forget about it, okay? We really are in a hurry and we're sorry we stepped over your amazingly magnificent and totally invisible fortress. Please accept our apology. We'll hunt for you- get you lots of nice things for dinner- things that don't involve us as dinner, of course. And then we'll all be on our way. All right?"
Eyeful translated for him.
::Silence, talkin' ape! You have no dragon wit' youse and no right to negotiate wit' youses captors.::
I grunted and dropped onto my side. I lurched onto my feet again and stood up, flicking my hide to shake off any dirt or bark shreds. ::H-Hello, uh- Purple Sonja, ma'am? I am the dragon with this unit! If you have something to say, say it to me! And we'll start with my request to leave my friends alone and stop teasing them. They really did not mean to intrude your - uh- vast realm::
I expected the battles scarred tough talking little dragon queen to hiss and then spit fire and poison at me.
Instead she took me in as I limped forward and crouched in front of my trapped friends, trying to look like I was shielding them with my scrawny, serpentine body. (I am pretty sure I managed to protect their ankles, anyway).
I remembered to bow, as I had before the black dragon on the Dreampaths. :: I may be a breath of air or a sting from a fly to you, great warrior dragon, but I mean it when I say, leave my friends alone. NOW!::
The last came out in a bark that was surprisingly loud and deep.
To my surprise the dragon warrior laughed softy, :: What is dis? Oh, my! A dragon kitten! Oh, sisters, he's just a little kitten! ::
I gave my amazing roar- the one that sounds like a purring squeak to everyone else. I did not like being insulted.
Purrs all around.
::Awww, isn't he the most adorable little kitten ever?::
::So, cute and trying to be so fierce. Awww.::
Oh my- they actually were taken in by me! Hooray for the maternal instinct!
::And he's been hurt. Look at him. Skin and bones, covered in scars and with a shredded ear and a broken leg. Poor little thing, all abandoned with no one to wuv him::
I swear- that dragoness actually said 'wuv!'
I rolled cutely on my back, batting at the air with my good legs, and I grinned with sweet innocence (not always easy to do) . I purred as I was surrounded by a ring of small but strong dragonesses. I noticed more than a few were wearing some sort of colored designs etched on their hide. I wondered quickly if they had somehow tattooed themselves with their claws.
::I'm with these Firemakers and their companions:: I said softly, ::They're the ones who are taking care of me. They have learned from me well, and are perfectly well trained. I can vouch for their honesty. And it was I who pulled your trap and crossed your empire and invaded your minis- I mean magnificent fortress. Not them. So if you want to kill someone, kill me.::
I exposed my throat and made myself look as vulnerable as possible.
::Go ahead. I deserve to die. And I die with honor:: I made my voice as cutely sweet and sad as possible, ::If you see my mother- wherever she is- tell her that her son died whispering her name.::
::Awww, lookit da widdle sweety.:: Sonja said, ::How could we hurt someone like ya? Ya was just curious, dat's all::
She nuzzled me and then I felt many dragons licking me.
Behind me I swear I could hear equine and human jaws dropping in surprise.
::Yes, ma'am:: I said meekly. Remembering they were females and that I had had some excellent coaching recently, ::And, may I say, fair and well- made broads, your assets are loaded and you have great curves::
A moment of silence. A purr of surprise, then draconic laughter exploded along the river bank.
::So precious! Kid, I like youses style:: Sonja roared, ::Only a lost little dragon kitten dare to call tough warrior women like us pretty, even if we's are among the loveliest of our kind, but ya get some credit for tryin'.::
::Can I get up now, please?:: I asked
::Of course:: cooed an Amazon, ::Poor little beetle, you must be so hungry and cold and hurting::
They stepped back and let me on my feet. Then I heard some noises of thumping and of high tension ropy things behind released.
Eyeful and Ravenwing were thumping onto their feet as dragons untied the bolos.
::Is this a good time to run?:: Ravenwing asked, ::I'm for it.::
::No. They might outfly us in the state we're in now- I've been lying on the ground with my legs bound up.:: Eyeful said as she braced herself for Gatalas to stumble onto his feet and lean against her, his burnt hand cradled against his chest, ::And the circulation in my legs is killing me, in this state. Come on legs! Wake you, will ya?::
::Okay, listen up, Firemakers and hump less camels.:: Sonja thought-sent abruptly, ::I'm not gonna repeat myself. We've decided to take youses dragon companion's word dat yous can be trusted, and we'll let you on your way. But yous'd better keep youses promise ta hunt us up some dinner. Otherwise, yous'll regret it. Dat's youses payment for us letting youses go. And we'll come wid youse ta make sure yous obey.::
"Of course" Setareh said, bowing as she also thought-sent those words, "We swear on fire we will hunt dinner for you."
Being that it is an honest vow from a Sarmatian, the Amazons could hear it in her voice and see it in her eyes that she meant to keep it.
::Very well, then. Now let's get hunting. I'm hungry.::
I padded toward Ravenwing and Setareh, sighing quietly. That was close.
::Good job, kid!:: Ravenwing said, bending down to muzzle my. I rubbed against him and purred, ::Though you're going to have to learn when and when not to uh- impress the ladies. It's a good thing you're so cute. They might have been insulted if you were older and less cute::
I realized, like it or not, my cuteness had wound up being the thing that saved my companions' lives.
As we moved off to go hunting, I heard one of the dragons asking Purple Sonja, ::Would we really have eaten them? They seem rather hard to kill.::
::We's could take 'em sister. But I like dese guys. I think we can trust 'em. Besides, ya have ta admit it's been boring dese last few weeks out here with no one to harass. Dis is da most entertainment we've had in a long while!::
Sarmatian Translations:
Solh, zuleikah, solh- Peace, my beauty, peace
Khoob, khanoum, Good, my lady.
Another chapter done. Hope you liked it. I had to move from sad to funny and hope I made a believable transition. And there were some clues about future events planted there, too. I am writing this now in an airport lounge en route to Iceland, and I wish you all safe travels, whether internationally or just down to your local favorite food joint.
Thanks for reading, all!