The boy nodded slowly. He looked away, staring silently at the landscape and pondering what he’d heard. Duranix remained quiet as well.
At last, the dragon said, “I want you to stay, Amero, but I won’t compel you. You can walk away now if you wish, and I won’t stop you.”
“If I stay, what will happen?” Amero asked warily.
“How should I know? Am I one of your Great Spirits? The future is a day no one has seen yet.” Duranix scratched the ground with his foot. “As I said, I think we can learn from each other. More humans arrive on the plains and in the mountains every season. If I’m to live among them, I think we’d better understand each other, don’t you?”
After only a moment’s reflection, Amero nodded. “I will stay,” he said simply.
He started walking down the draw toward the lake. Duranix called for him to wait.
“One more thing. I’ve used this human form to avoid frightening you. I modeled it after the man I caught — you said his name was Genta? I want you to see how I really look, Amero. Let that be the first step on our path together.” Duranix walked a ways up the ravine and stopped. He spread his arms wide and threw his head back. In the blink of an eye he swelled several times in size and lost his human coloring. Dropping down on all fours, his arms became thick, muscular forelegs with three massive claws and a single rear toe. His torso spread until it was wider than any man’s. He had huge, powerful rear legs, bent in a graceful curve like the haunches of a panther. A tail, a good five paces long and ending with a barbed tip, curled up behind his back and scraped the valley walls.
Amero felt a sensation almost like heat. Unmasked, Duranix shed a sort of radiance the boy could feel. It was like the sun on a cold day — a warmth that felt both good and strong. Or was it a cool breeze on a hot day — except the breeze left no sensation of movement? For a moment, Amero was dazed, dazzled. He stepped forward, hand outstretched, numbed by the dragon’s presence.
The most arresting feature of Duranix the dragon was his head. More angular than a snake’s, the reptilian skull was huge and wide. Barbels hung down from its chin, and yellow membranes flickered sideways back and forth across eyes whose pupils were vertical slits.
Breath from the dragon’s nostrils — each as wide as a stout tree trunk — raised swirls of dust at Amero’s feet. Across his brow were two upswept horns, matched by a larger set curving back from the broad crown of his head. From nose to tail Duranix was at least fifteen paces long, and he was covered in oval, overlapping, shiny red-gold scales.
When the transformation was complete, Amero staggered, as though released from a powerful hold. He pulled his makeshift tool from his waist and stared at it. His tool, and the strange things in the cave he’d called leaves, were actually the dragon’s scales. Duranix must shed a few every day, the way a man left hairs where he lay.
“You’re the stormbird!” he exclaimed in awe. “I saw you flying through the clouds the night before you saved me from the yevi!”
Duranix cocked his huge head. “Stormbird, eh?” he said. “I like that. Much more elegant than ‘dragon.’”
Duranix’s chest heaved. He thrust his serpentine neck forward until his massive head was less than an arm’s length from Amero’s wide eyes. The effect was so terrifying Amero’s knees failed and he sat down hard.
The dragon opened his mouth, revealing wickedly curved fangs. It took Amero a heart-pounding moment to realize that Duranix was actually grinning at him.
“What do you think of me now?” the creature asked. The voice was still recognizably his, but the sheer power of it, even at a whisper, rattled Amero’s teeth.
The boy opened his mouth but no sound came out, so he swallowed and began again. “I hope we shall always be friends.”
Duranix snorted. Dirt and pebbles flew. He hoisted his head high and said, “Come! I want hear how you escaped from the cave on your own. You have much ingenuity for a human!”
“Could I eat first?” Amero asked faintly.
“Of course! I spotted a herd of mountain goats in the third valley on my way here. Do you like goat?” Amero nodded. He was hungry enough at this moment to eat dragon.
Duranix seized him in his left foreclaw. The grip was irresistible, yet surprisingly gentle. Long narrow wings unfolded from his back. They stretched upward, and without waiting for further comment, Duranix launched into the air with a single massive leap. Amero nearly fainted from the shock of his powerful ascent. The ground dropped away with a rush.
As the dragon flapped his wings to gain altitude, Amero took in deep breaths to calm his pounding heart. The dizziness faded. The stars wheeled overhead and wind whipped at his long hair. Amero knew a sudden urge to shout with joy. He wanted to savor every moment of his first conscious flight.
It was a memory he would long cherish.
Chapter 5
Days passed, then weeks.
With some idea of finding her mother’s people, Nianki put the morning sun on her left, the setting sun on her right, and followed ancient trails across plain and woodland. She was going where she had never been, which Oto had taught her was never wise, and she was alone. Walking by night under a vault of stars, she felt at times like the last woman alive. She passed dark campsites under the white moon’s gleam, finding nothing in them but broken weapons and scraps of clothing stained with blood. Hidden eyes seemed to follow her progress, but no one attacked her. Pakito’s short spear saw to that.
Twenty times she saw Soli rise and set, and on the twenty-first morning she came to a wide river she couldn’t easily ford. It flowed west to east, unlike the rivers in her home range. More proof the world was upside down! Nianki tracked along the river bank a full day without finding a place to cross, then gave up and swam to the other side.
The river turned south, so Nianki followed it until she came to the sea. She’d heard about the sea from Kinar, who’d seen it often as a child. Kinar described it as an endless lake, stretching from horizon to horizon, so vast one could not see the opposite shore. She also shared the stories of her coastal ancestors, stories of fearsome monsters that dwelled in the depths, and of massive, deadly tempests lasting for days, scourging the sea and land.
One hot day in late summer, Nianki arrived at a high headland and beheld the sea. Though it was fully as big as she’d been told, she saw no sign on its calm green-blue waters of sea monsters or storms.
There were, however, many people. She began to encounter increasing numbers of strangers — almost thirty by the time she reached the sea. This was more human company than Nianki had ever seen at one time in her life. The climate was mild, and the local folk seemed placid and accepting. Small hands of centaurs moved among them without rancor, a state of affairs new to Nianki. On the high savanna, plainsfolk and centaurs were competitors, and both were wary of strangers. Unnerved by the crowds, Nianki kept to herself, making contact only when she needed to barter for food.
The coast was rich in forage and game, even with the large number of people about. Much of the provender was strange to her. Fish she knew, but some of the other things the locals ate — like shellfish, crabs, and seaweed — disgusted her. For some days she subsisted on rabbit and wild strawberries, supplemented by fish she obtained in return for mending a local man’s nets.
Gradually her wounds healed, her body grew strong, and she was able to hunt. As the seaside sun baked her skin even darker, the scars stood out as bold streaks and splotches. Nianki wore her marks with pride. She’d won them by surviving, surpassing even her father’s toughness.
Her harsh appearance proved to be an asset in dealing with others. People saw the scars on her face, neck, and arm and knew they were in the presence of a hunter and fighter, not merely some man’s abandoned mate. For herself, the scars also served as tangible memorials of her lost family. Each healed bite, each ragged tear, kept the memory of her father, mother, and brothers alive.