'Tell them to sheathe those things. They cannot harm me.'
Sytkan gestured and blades were lowered.
'What is it you want of me?' asked Sytkan, a superior and rather bored tone to his voice.
'Finish what you started,' said Sha-Kaan. 'You need go nowhere to validate your research. Indeed, I forbid it. You will free us to return to our own dimension before I free you to return to your petty squabbles on Balaia.'
'You are in no position to forbid anything, Great Kaan,' said Sytkan, clearly unaware of his own vulnerability. 'We are in charge here, and I suggest that if you do want to return to Beshara, you let us set the timetable. That means we leave to employ our research in a practical fashion before turning to lesser matters.'
Sha-Kaan almost swatted him then and there but refrained, Hirad's caution echoing in his mind.
'You tread delicate ground, frail human,' he said. 'The timetable as you call it states that we do not have the luxury of waiting on your whim. And, as you will discover if you choose otherwise, there are no greater matters than completing your work to send us home.'
'Don't threaten me, Sha-Kaan,' said Sytkan. 'We have foreseen your reaction and taken appropriate steps. Without your fire you are much weakened, as the Dordovans discovered. Don't think we will hesitate to defend ourselves. Together, we are very strong.'
'But individually, very weak,' said Sha-Kaan.
His head snapped forwards and he scooped Sytkan into his jaws, wings unfurling to project him into the sky and away from danger.
Nos-Kaan, take to the air. The Xeteskians have to be stopped.
In his jaws, Sytkan struggled. Sha-Kaan brought his head to a foreclaw and deposited the mage in it, bringing it in line with an eye.
'You have very little time,' growled Sha-Kaan. 'Remove your work from your ship before we sink it.'
'And lose everything for which we have worked and that could benefit you?' shouted Sytkan into the wind. 'It stays there. You don't dare touch it. Set me down.'
'You think me a foolish reptile, I am sure. Ignorant. But I hear much and am told more. I know the exactitude of a Xeteskian mage. All your papers are in watertight containers, are they not? And I am a very good swimmer.'
He watched Sytkan's fragile confidence disappear and proper fear replace it. But the mage was not done.
'Release me or Nos-Kaan dies now.'
Sha-Kaan swept round to face the hillside. Nos-Kaan was hovering, waiting for him. Below, hidden by the curve of the slope, a dozen mages. Nos hadn't seen them and they were casting.
Sha-Kaan bellowed in rage and arrowed down towards them, pulsing alarm at his Brood brother.
Fly! They are below you. Fly!
Nos-Kaan moved as the mages cast their spell. An orb of fire thirty feet across raced from their position, catching Nos-Kaan's left wing on the downbeat and rolling along its length to scour his back. Flame ate at his scales and burned the wing membrane. Nos roared pain and, smoke trailing from his savaged wing, spiralled into the sky, heading for the quenching ocean.
Sha-Kaan powered on, Sytkan forgotten in his claw. The Xeteskian mages could not react fast enough. The huge dragon landed just upslope and slid down on them, his great hind claws tearing up the ground as he came, his wings beating again, his weight shuddering the earth. His head launched forward, his fangs slicing through human flesh, jaws snapping open and shut to crush puny bodies. His claws scythed through torso and limb, dug up stones and dirt and flung them down.
With the next beat of his wings he took to the air again, banking sharply to check for any survivors. One was running, the rest either dead or dying. He powered in again and seized the running mage in his other foreclaw before chasing out to sea after Nos-Kaan.
The dragon's entry point was clear and the smell of burning scale and membrane hung in the air. Sha-Kaan put Sytkan to his eye once again, seeing the mage shaken but still just conscious.
'Weak am I? Pray to your false gods that Nos is still alive. Pray that your lungs can hold and your body does not break.'
With that he dived into the ocean, tucking his foreclaws in to protect the mages from the impact. He might have need of them. His eyes pierced the clear blue waters easily and he didn't have to swim deep before he saw Nos-Kaan struggling to the surface, his left wing dragging him back, his tail stroking weakly.
Nos-Kaan, I am here.
Sink the ship, Great Kaan. I will survive. But his thoughts were feeble. They must not escape.
They cannot outpace me. I will be back.
Sha-Kaan stormed back to the surface and broke into the air. In his claw Sytkan gasped a lungful of air. The other mage hung limp. Sha-Kaan discarded him. He flew towards the ship, which still lay at anchor, keeping high to avoid the spells. On deck he saw two groups of mages crouching together, spells no doubt on their lips.
'So anxious to get on board,' he said, Sytkan once again large in his vision. 'Let me help you.'
He threw the mage down, watching him cartwheel as he fell. The human prayed he hit the water. His Gods did not hear him. Sha-Kaan turned from the splayed mess far below on the deck and dived back after Nos-Kaan.
The wounded dragon was close to the surface now. Sha-Kaan swam under him and pushed him from below, moving him fast towards a nearby island with a beach on which he could rest. He could feel the pain through Nos-Kaan's mind. The dragon, who had never fully recovered from attack by Dordovan mages out in the Southern Ocean two seasons before, was dreadfully injured.
He heaved Nos-Kaan from the waves. The stricken Kaan laid his neck out on the sand, leaving his tortured burned body in the salty water.
Tell me, Nos. Your injuries, can they heal?
But he already knew the answer. Nos-Kaan's wing lay on the surface of the sea, outstretched, membrane ruined in so many places. And the scales along his back were puckered and oozing.
It has been a great adventure, Great Kaan. And I would have loved to rest back in our Brood lands, but it was ever a dream I feared I would never realise.
Then rest now, my brother. Rest now. You will be avenged.
But Nos-Kaan couldn't hear him.
Sha-Kaan rose up on his hind legs, beat his wings and bellowed grief, rage and torment. Birds took flight and lizards scattered on the beach. Back at anchor, the Xeteskian ship lay waiting. He decided not to keep them any longer.
But even as he rushed into the air to revenge himself upon them, a voice sounded in his mind. It spoke reason and sympathy and it took the edge from his rage. It told him that he must live. That the Brood Kaan would wane without him, that there were other places to fight the battle. It told him it loved him and that it would see the research into the hands that would help.
The voice was that of Hirad Coldheart, his Dragonene, and it surely saved his life.
Chapter 35
Dystran, Lord of the Mount of Xetesk, was in excellent spirits. He had enjoyed his lunch enormously and took the remains of his wine out of the dining room he had shared with the rest of the Circle Seven into the Corridor of the Ancients. Looking along the impressive line of portraits in the brightly lit corridor, he reminded himself to organise his own. Every other master on the walls was very old. A dash of youth would be just the job.
He heard footsteps behind him and turned. Ranyl was walking slowly towards him, pain obvious on his face but defiantly upright despite the natural desire to stoop to try and relax the pain from the cancer in his stomach. He smiled as he approached.
'My Lord Dystran, I have more news,' he said, 'concerning the search on Calaius.'