Sentries, both Valedwellers and Plainsdwellers, stood alert for pards. The fillies and foals lay surrounded by elders. Jan harbored no fear for them. Scenting the slight, sighing breeze, he found it free of all odor of predators. Nevertheless, he was keenly aware that this oasis—so vital to his folk—formed a maze of rills and rises, troughs and groves and irregular pools. Despite the sentries’ diligent watch, almost any creature—even one large as a unicorn or pard—might steal past undetected if it moved stealthily and luck ran with it.
Shadows, movement among the trees. Far from the main camp, which lay barely within view through the close-spaced trees, Jan detected motion. Two small figures fidgeted among the treeboles, one black-and-silver, well camouflaged by mottled moonlight and shade, the other wholly white, pale ghostly as a dream. With a start of surprise, Jan recognized the tiny pair: Aiony and Dhattar, his own filly and foal. They stood taut, listening, straining to see through the moon blaze and shadow. Jan heard rustling.
“Here she comes,” Aiony whispered to her brother. He nodded with a little snort.
A third figure emerged from the trees, larger than the first two, but still much smaller than full-grown. For a moment moonlight glanced across her. Jan was able to discern the darkamber coat, the milky mane of his sister Lell. For a moment, Jan thought he sensed another presence, something larger than all three of them, moving behind Lell in the darkness of the trees—but the moment passed. No scent, no sound, no further hint of motion from that quarter. Lell shook herself.
“There you are,” she hissed. “It took me best part of an hour, stumbling about dodging sentries, to find you.”
Jan saw his son’s legs stiffen, his coat bristle. “We told you the pool shaped like a salamander.”
Lell snorted. “They’re all shaped like salamanders,” she answered, exasperated.
Dha’s mouth fell open as though to make some reply, but his sister murmured, “Peace. They come.”
The darkamber filly and Dhattar both turned, moving closer to each other and to Aiony.
“I’m not sure this is wise,” Lell muttered, her sudden caution surprising Jan.
“You wanted to see wyverns,” Dhattar responded.
“Aye, but in secret?” his young aunt inquired. “Years from now, when we tell the tale, no one will believe us.”
Aiony nodded, rubbing her cheek against the older filly’s shoulder. “They will believe us, rest sure.”
“Should we not inform Tek? As regent…”
“She deserves our loyalty and trust,” the younger filly finished. “Aye. No doubt. Had we informed her, she would surely have kept her head and acted well.”
“But what of others?” Dhattar picked up his sister’s thread. “The herd’s hatred of wyverns goes back centuries. Even now we march against those still loyal to Lynex who hold our homeland from us.”
Lell’s gaze turned inward, considering. “You fear if we told Tek, she might not believe us?”
Aiony laughed softly. “Not that. Nay, never that.”
“If we told her,” Dhattar replied, “she must consult the Elders. Others would learn of it. Soon all would know.”
“You fear Tek might not be able to restrain our folk from falling upon these wyverns?”
Dhattar shrugged. “Perhaps. These wyrms are defenseless, after all.”
“Not all of them,” Lell countered. “You said some of them have stings.”
“To which we are impervious,” Aiony replied. “Nay, theirs is the greater peril. Our mother rules by the herd’s goodwill. Why strain her regency by inviting strife?”
Lell set her teeth, deep in thought, and cast one furtive glance over her shoulder as though searching for something behind them in the dark. Jan detected nothing. Evidently neither could Lell. A moment later, she returned her attention to her young nephew and niece.
“Well enough, then. I will watch—but mark me, I’ll raise the alarm if they offer the least…”
She did not finish the phrase. Across the narrow finger of water, a form appeared, translucent as ice. Blazing moonlight cut through its reptilian shape, illuminating sinews, suggestions of organs and the shadows of bones. The oily, fine-scaled skin gave off a rainbow sheen. Long-necked, the creature’s body sported two wide forepaws before tapering away into a lengthy tail. The form was joined by another of its kind and another still. The nostrils on their long, tapered muzzles flared at the scent of water.
Standing just at trees’ edge on the opposite bank, the three colts stood motionless. Scarcely the length of a running bound separated the three wyrms from them. Clearly parched, the newcomers hesitated only an instant before slithering toward the pool. Two bent eagerly to drink, but the third caught sight of the young unicorns reflected in the water. With a little shriek, it jerked upright. Its two companions did the same.
“Unicorns!” one hissed. “Warn the others—”
“Peace,” Aiony called, her soft voice carrying easily in the still night air. “We mean you no harm.”
The three across the pool hesitated, clearly torn between two terrors: that of remaining and that of fleeing without tasting the precious water. The middle one, slightly larger than the others, seemed to rally.
“What do you mean?” it demanded. “Are your folk not enemies of my kind? How is it you offer peace?”
“We are Lell Darkamber, king’s daughter,” Aiony replied, nodding to the filly at her side, “and Aiony, princess-to-be, and my brother, Dhattar, prince-to-be. We war only against followers of Lynex, who will not yield our rightful lands.”
“We are seers, my sister and I,” Dhattar went on. “We know you have deserted Lynex and fled the Hills, and that you hold him as much an enemy as do we.”
Across the pool, the three wyverns gaped in surprise. Jan discerned all at once that they were younglings, far from fully grown. Of course, he reasoned. They would have to be. The only stingless ones to have survived among the wyverns had hatched since the death of the wyvern queen.
“It is true we are no friends of Lynex,” another of the white wyrms admitted. “He sought to destroy our land. Now he lies in wait for your pilgrims along the moon lake’s path. We fled rather than join that treachery. We are done with Lynex and his sting-tailed ways. We long only for a peaceful life which harms no one. We seek new dens in a new homeland.”
“Show us your tails,” Lell called. “We must be sure.”
Unhesitatingly, the wyvern trio held up the blunt, stingless tips at the end of their whiplike tails. The darkamber filly nodded, satisfied.
“Well enough,” she said. “Drink and go your way. We three will not harm you. But mark you take all pains to avoid our sentries, for if you draw their notice, my companions and I cannot pledge your safety. Few of our fellows distinguish wyrms with stings from those without.”
The three wyverns hesitated along moment. Sheer fatigue seemed to decide for them, and they dipped their muzzles to the pool, drawing the water in desperate draughts. At last, the eldest raised its head.
“We thank you,” it offered. “We have long suspected our legends calling your kind lackwits and fools to be untrue. Till now, we have had no truth with which to dispel them. Rest sure that our talespinners will remember this deed, how unicorns spared us and offered us water, allowing us to journey on unscathed.”