The Black wing

Chapter 3

Sultry summer rain came dowm in a slanted curtain on the rocks and brown pine needles outside Khisanth's lair. The damp feeling should have been as tranquilizing to the dragon's dark soul as a warm-blooded meal. But today, there was little that would soothe her hot temper.

Khisanth was seriously contemplating reneging on her deal with Kadagan and Joad. The nyphids had already vio shy;lated their agreement as far as she was concerned. The yellow sun had risen and set countless times, and still they'd taught her nothing, not one single incantation. They'd kept her so busy doing pointless things that she hadn't even had time to work toward recalling those few minor spells she'd known before the Sleep.

Counting the petals of a wild rose, she fumed, viciously plucking out the stamen of the fuchsia-colored one she held in her left claw. Inanity! A thorn found its way to the tender flesh between two scales, and she flung the denuded flower from her angrily.

Kadagan had left her the prickly pile of blooms with instructions to contemplate the essence of a rose.

"What in the Abyss does that mean?" she'd ground out.

"Thou must discover what makes a rose a rose."'

"Thaf s obvious. It looks like one."

Kadagan had smiled indulgently and said as he left, "That would be the conclusion of one who is not qhen."

At first, Khisanth had swallowed her annoyance and risen to the challenge Kadagan had flung at her. Her immense claws were clumsy tools for plucking fragile, pale pink petals, as futile an exercise as using a broadsword to find the wishbone in a tiny sparrow. Yet Khisanth was determined to prove to Kadagan that she had as much patience as he, and so she'd concentrated on separating the velvet-soft petals with the pointed tips of her claws. She held handfuls of petals to her flared nostrils and inhaled until the spicy fragrance was as familiar to her as rats or moist earth. Her long crimson tongue sampled both petals and stems until they no longer tasted bitter. But as time passed, measured by the number of petals Khisanth had plucked, her forced patience waned, then died.

Khisanth slowly paced the confines of the small cave Joad had found for her. It was not what the black dragon would have chosen for a lair. Her horns scraped the arched ceiling when she stood up straight in the regal, threatening pose she liked best; thus, when not asleep, she was forced to either stand with her long neck hunkered over, or sit on her haunches like some eager giant hound. She wouldn't be able to stretch and flex her wings here when the nyphids removed the annoying splint on her right wing.

Bats and small birds had called the cave home before Khi shy;santh had arrived, but she had already consumed those she had not frightened away. A large, stagnant puddle of water in the farthest corner of the cave was the only source of plea shy;sure for Khisanth in the lair. After meals on hot summer days and nights, the dragon liked to splash the fetid water up to her neck with her tail, then lie on the cool, dark stone-and-dirt floor.

At least it was dim inside the cave. Khisanth pondered the nyphid's adoration of light. They needed sunshine; she sought the solitude of darkness. Why had she agreed to fol shy;low the training of creatures so opposite to her own nature and needs? Greed, of course. The answer didn't shame her. Instead, it supported her decision to force them to teach her as promised.

Just then Khisanth froze and cocked her head to the side. Someone or something was approaching her lair. The under shy;side of her long tail made a soft scraping sound as she scut shy;tled to within twenty feet of the opening, where the shadows would still conceal her. She pressed her bulk up against the left wall. The burning green acid that constantly roiled in her stomach stood waiting in the back of her throat.

Kadagan bounded through the opening to the lair. Shak shy;ing rain droplets from his luxurious hair, the nyphid took one look at the scattered remains of roses. "Thou hast been busy," he said, oblivious to Khisanth's threatening posture.

The dragon stepped from the shadows in the foulest of moods, one eye half-closed in a furious squint. "Don't you know better than to approach a dragon's lair unannounced? I nearly boiled you in acid."

The nyphid looked neither concerned nor surprised. "I was aware of thee. Besides, I do not fear my own death."

"Not fearing it and walking foolishly into it are two differ shy;ent things," growled the dragon.

"Come, Khisanth," said Kadagan as if she'd not spoken. He stepped from the cave. "The rain has stopped." Still grumbling under her breath, the dragon followed the nyphid to the ridge of trees downhill from the lair, where Joad waited cross-legged on the ground. "Let us see what thou hast learned."

"I've learned that I'm sick and tired of your games." Khi shy;santh impulsively snatched Kadagan up by the front of his green tunic and raised him a dozen feet from the ground.

"Either you teach me to shapechange right this minute, as we agreed, or you can pull some other hapless creature from the bowels of the earth to smell flowers."

"Does a rose look like a badger?" Kadagan rasped from the pressure on his chest. His expression was strangely serene. Joad had not moved.

"Of course not!" snorted Khisanth at the improbable ques shy;tion.

"So, it is not a badger. Does it have the flavor of a moose?"

"No, it tastes like a rose!"

"And how is that?"

Drawn into the line of questioning despite herself, Khi shy;santh set the nyphid down on the still-damp pine needles. "The wooden stem is acrid, and the center is sweet, com shy;pared to the rest."

"Wouldst that not describe an orange or an apple?"

"No-" The dragon paused and thought for a moment. "Yes, it would." She grew frustrated at this realization. "Whaf s the point of all this?"

Kadagan looked at her straight-faced and said, "I think thou knowest, even if thou dost not yet understand it com shy;pletely."

Khisanth's eyes narrowed. "Are you trying to say that there is a commonality between all things, and that the differ shy;ences are but nuance?"

Kadagan looked impressed. "Thou hast learned more than expected. All I hoped for was recognition of the distinctions." Adjusting his tunic back into place, the nyphid settled onto a rotted tree stump and wrapped his slender arms around his knees.

"Any magical creature can learn the rudiments of shape-changing," he continued. "But a master of the skill brings all of his other…. 'essences' to his new shape, combines it with complete understanding of the creature whose shape he would take." Kadagan paused. "The result is a magical crea shy;ture superior to the natural one. Anything less is simply a magically animated shell, no better than a golem." He nod shy;ded solemnly. "Thou art becoming qhen, Khisanth."

Khisanth was moved to silence. She could feel an almost physical transformation overtaking her body as she began to understand. The dragon shivered in the oppressive heat of the rain-dampened forest.

"I believe thou art ready to try thy wings."

Surprised, Khisanth looked back over her shoulder eagerly. Joad was unleashing the vines and slipping the splint from her damaged limb. "It's all right, Joad?" she asked, not wait shy;ing for an answer as she gingerly flexed her wing. "I've thought for several days that it was healed." The joint felt stiff, but not sore. She stretched it farther, opening the wing to full extension. The pearl-white, razor-sharp claw at the tip pierced the treetops.

Khisanth tucked the wing back to her right side. Her heart pounded wildly with anticipation. Raising up on her hind legs she stretched both wings in unison toward the sky, furl shy;ing and unfurling them with a rhythmic snapping.

Kadagan's soft, even voice said, "Canst thou launch thy shy;self here?" His gaze traveled up to consider the tall canopy of trees that grew dense some distance before them and afforded protection for Khisanth's lair in the hillside.

"I'm … not sure," muttered the dragon.

Frowning, Khisanth searched her mind for memories of flight. All she could unlock was the still image of a tightly packed herd of extremely young dragons, barely distinguish shy;able among the clouds of red dust they kicked up as they pushed their way toward a distant precipice. She wasn't even certain she'd been among the wyrmlings-turned-dragons, or if she'd just heard about them."

"I think I need a ledge," she mumbled at last.

"Is the one above thy lair of sufficient size?"

Khisanth looked over her shoulder at the shelf of rocks that formed a hood over the opening to her lair. It was not overly high, perhaps twenty-five feet above the ground, but it might be adequate. The rocky shelf continued up the face of the steep hillside, interrupted only by the occasional low shrub. Below her lair, the ground dropped away sharply; the line of trees under which they now stood lay at least one length of the dragon's thirty-foot body from the cave.

"We'll see if it's high enough," the dragon said at last.

Anxious to test her wings in flight, Khisanth stepped from the protection of the trees and into the sunlight that had chased the rain clouds away. How the nyphids could enjoy the sun's blinding light, she would never understand. Squint shy;ing, she lumbered past her lair and continued upward some distance on the shelf.

That should give me enough room for a running start, Khi shy;santh reasoned. She raised herself high and extended her wings, once, twice, as a test. Drawing in a deep breath to con shy;centrate, she tucked her wings tightly to her sides. Leading with her right foot, she took elongated strides, gaining great speed as she approached the precipice. The ground shook beneath her; rocks tumbled away. The clawed toes of her right foot met the edge first, as she had planned. Then Khi shy;santh pushed herself up with all her great strength, drawing her wings out and driving them first down, then up.

She plummeted like a rock.

For five heartbeats, she scrabbled and clawed and flapped to no avail. Then she met the moist ground and tumbled head over wings.

Breathing heavily, Khisanth let her face remain covered by her left wing as it had fallen. She could feel Joad at her side, silently examining her right wing. She didn't stop him, though she knew she wasn't hurt.

"Thou wast trying too hard."

Khisanth's head snapped up from under her wing. She glared at the nyphid, who was hovering above her left shoul shy;der blade, his own little wings fluttering effortlessly. "How can I try …. 'too hard' to learn to do something I don't know?"

"Thou dost not need to be taught to use thy wings-drag shy;ons fly naturally. Didst thou need to be taught to walk before the Sleep?"

In truth, Khisanth could not recall.

"Thou likely took stumbling steps at first. But thou assumed upon waking that thou couldst walk, and thou didst."

"Are you saying I should just assume I can fly, and I will?" Khisanth scoffed. Standing, she brushed damp pine needles from her chest and tail and affected a look of disinterest. Still, she waited for the nyphid's response.

"No." Kadagan shook his head as he alighted to the ground. "Though the skill is natural, the knowledge is not. Thou needs to practice, but effortlessly, like a leaf falls from a tree. Thou must stop caring about flying and just do it. After thou hast practiced, it will become second nature." Kadagan could see that she was trying to absorb his words, yet her nat shy;ural hostility had wrinkled her brow into a scowl.

"Stop thinking about being a dragon, and just be a dragon."

Khisanth's thick lips ruffled contemptuously. The nyphid's gall was limitless! "If there's anything I know more about than you," she stormed, "it's how to be a dragon!" With that, she spun her snout around and thundered off again toward the shelf above her lair.

The indignant dragon posed herself as before and pre shy;pared to sprint down the hill toward the ledge. But at the last second, she caught a glimpse of Kadagan, standing far below, arms crossed expectantly, face tilted up to catch the sun as he watched her. Whether from spite, or some emotion far more powerful, Khisanth abruptly conjured a brief mental picture of herself flying above the earth. She stopped think shy;ing of every step she would take, of leading with her right foot so she could push off with the same. She commanded herself to move, to run, and when her toes touched the edge, she sent no conscious message to her wings.

She was over the brink. Her wings snapped up, then out. The dragon's horned head jutted forward, and her four wing shy;less limbs stretched backward beneath her expanding chest, in starched, straight lines, parallel to the ground.

Khisanth was gliding. She saw the tree line fast approach shy;ing and tensed for a moment, then remembered to simply be a dragon. Her wings angled slightly on their own, and she rose sharply above the thick green leaves and into the wait shy;ing blue sky. Coming at last out of the glide, her long, leath shy;ery wings folded, then sprang open again with a snap. Wind currents tugged at her, jostling her as she soared. She let the wind take her where it willed.

Khisanth saw the whole of the world as the gods had cre shy;ated it-rugged land, shifting water, turbulent air-and she thought what a loss it would have been to sleep through her entire life beneath it all. Looking back, she saw herself with an admiring detachment. The scales above her rippling mus shy;cles were sleek and black like polished onyx. What perfect creations are dragons, Khisanth thought. Surely as god-touched as the land itself.

Ah, flying…. The blood-rush it inspired was akin to that of gorging, especially when a tail wind helped her cruise with impossible swiftness. She pushed herself on this maiden flight, past the first ache of her wing muscles, until the legs that would help her land cramped as well. She located the edge of forest that shielded her lair and let her body take care of the details of returning to earth.

Either she had flown too long, or her body had little practi shy;cal knowledge of landing, because her legs buckled upon con shy;tact with the ground. Khisanth tumbled head-over-tail, losing count after the tenth rotation. At last her tail met with a stout tree trunk and she stopped, unable to tell up from down.

"Not bad," said Kadagan, as ever at her shoulder. "Not good, but not bad. Next time thou wilt know not to fly beyond thine endurance."

Khisanth was still smarting from Kadagan's chastisement when she awoke the next day. She had wanted to make him choke on the smug look he maintained during his insuffer shy;able preaching about qhen. Khisanth had proven that she could fly, and the greatest compliment he could offer was "not bad." She'd asked him about it, challenged him. The nyphid had said with maddening serenity, "Thou canst fly. So can a mosquito." She'd cast him a scorching look that made her golden eyes look like burned amber. He'd been unmoved. Then he'd left her for the night. Before following the younger nyphid, Joad had handed her some herbal lini shy;ments with the unspoken understanding that she should apply them to her stiffening muscles.

Stretching painfully now, Khisanth was sorry that she had defiantly flung the small, unused pots of balm across her lair the night before. Spotting the cracked vessels of ointment, she dabbed the fleshy ball beneath one claw into a partially dried puddle and touched it to the sorest muscles in her wings. To her surprise, the goo provided instant, if not total, relief. The dragon reached down for more and was dismayed to realize that she could not salvage enough from the sandy floor to apply to her whole body. It enraged her to think that her anger had cost her the cure to her ills. Her tail lashed out, and she sent the shards of the crude ceramic pots flying through the lair's opening.

"Anger will defeat thee in battle as well as in life," said Kadagan, calmly dodging the flying fragments as he flut shy;tered into the cave. "An old nyphid maxim."

"Does nothing enrage you? Aren't you furious those humans took Dela?"

"Anger is energy spent foolishly."

Khisanth's eyes rolled up in exasperation. "It never ceases to amaze me that such a wise and all-knowing race has come to the brink of extinction," she stabbed.

As usual, Kadagan did not rise to the bait. "A cruel trick of nature hast given nyphids wisdom without the physical strength to defend it. Thou hast the opportunity for both." Kadagan settled himself, pulling up his tunic slightly to sit cross-legged on the dirt floor. "Art thou prepared for the next lesson in qhen?"

"Qhen?" snorted Khisanth. "I intend to fly today."

Kadagan watched the dragon's stiff, jerky movements as she shuffled around the cave.

"I feel fine! I'll have no problem flying," Khisanth croaked defensively at the nyphid's cool gaze. "Besides"- she whirled on the small creature — "I thought you and Joad were in a hurry for me to rescue your Dela. I'm just trying to oblige you." She crossed her claw arms in a challenging pose.

"So let's skip these fascinating lectures of yours and get on with teaching me to shapechange."

"I am more than anxious to rescue Dela," said Kadagan evenly. "But thou wilt surely fail in the task if thou dost not moderate thy temper. How canst thou hope to control an enemy without first controlling thyself?"

"Is that why you're always so maddeningly calm?" Khi-santh snapped.

They both knew the question needed no answer. In a strange way, she was beginning to understand the nyphid's logic. Besides, she was tired of looking foolish in contrast to the nyphid's unshakable tranquility. "How long will it take to learn what you want me to know?"

"As I said before, that depends on thee," said the nyphid. "I cannot hurry and teach thee patience." Sensing the circular course this topic could take, Kadagan noted, "The males of my race pass down a tale that might help thee:

The time came for a young nyphid to develop her magical nature and learn qhen. She walked to the pod of her teacher uncle and said, "It is time for me to become the finest nyphid qhen. How long must 1 study?"

"Ten years at least," her teacher uncle said.

"Ten years is a long time," said the young female. "What if I studied twice as hard as all thine other students?"

"Twenty years," replied her teacher uncle.

"Twenty years! What if I practice day and night with all my effort?"

"Thirty years."

"How is it that each time I say I will work harder, thou tells me that it will take that much longer?"

"The answer is clear. When one eye is fixed upon thy destina shy;tion, there is only one eye left with which to see the way there."

The thick, scaly skin above Khisanth's brow bones drew up in understanding. She heaved a rumbling sigh of surren shy;der. For a hot-tempered dragon, grasping qhen was going to be a lot more difficult than learning to walk or fly.