The Feline Wizard

CHAPTER 26

“I am not a renegade but an outcast!” Dimetrolas roared. “If I turn against you now, it is because you cast me out of your tribe; I can fight without turning against my own, for you have made me no longer one of you!” Then her roaring turned inarticulate and her flame swept the air to guard Stego-man's back. Dragoneers howled as their mounts rolled aside from the flame.

But the dragons were shotting the alarm, and more of their kind came bolting from the round doorways of every cote. Some circled down to the shelf to gather their riders, but most came with bare backs, flaring their rage against the rogue who sided with a stranger against her own clan. Soon the whole village was aloft and attacking from every side, only oldsters, children, and hatchlings still on the ground to watch the battle. Gradually the cloud of fliers separated into two wedges, one on each side, like the jaws of a forceps.

“We must aid them!” Anthony cried.

“We must indeed.” Though why the Lord Wizard was not himself using magic to fight off the fliers Balkis couldn't understand. Perhaps he feared killing them, for if you knocked a dragon unconscious at that height, both mount and rider would die in the fall. She had watched closely enough to identify the leader of the dragoneers, though—the one who rode the largest dragon and wore an emerald jerkin, where all others wore brown or grayish-green, and if they had tamed the flying dragons not by friendship or skill but by incantations, they offered a very serious weakness for her to exploit. She began to chant, adapting a verse Matt had taught her, and so worried not at all about rhyme.

“Take it, Anthony!” She was chagrined not to remember the last line of the verse.

Anthony replied.

Balkis' voice rang with delight:

She floundered again, and Anthony came in on the instant:

A cry came echoing down, Mart's voice: “Wotton!”

“What in Heaven have we wrought, indeed?” Anthony exclaimed, looking up.

Every dragon who carried a rider roared with delight as he or she dove toward the village ledge, roars that resolved into, “Off my back, midge, ere I swat you!”

The riders shrieked frantic verses, but nothing would regain them control. The dragons swooped within five feet of the ledge; a few riders were smart enough to leap off. The others howled with fright as the dragons looped the loop to make a second pass—fright that their spells did no good, that the dragons were completely out of their control, that their conquered mounts did exactly as they pleased. On the second pass most of them jumped, and the dragons flew away to attack Dimetrolas. The few diehards nearly did—die, that is, because their dragons simply turned their heads and blasted flame. None actually struck the riders, they missed by a foot or more, but the men and women took the hint, untied their saddle-ropes, and as the dragons dove toward the ledge, leaped to save their lives.

They ran to gather weapons, but they were safe for the moment, for all the little dragons were concentrating their attack on the renegade—Dimetrolas.

Balkis cried, spreading her hands up toward the flock.

“Anthony, a rhyme!” she shouted. Obligingly, he answered,

“Well sung!” Balkis said with a sigh of relief. “Give me now a second verse.”

“Second… ?” Anthony spread his hands, at a loss how to begin.

“A last verse! Give me a last verse!”

“Ah!” Anthony cried, and chanted,

Then he spread his hands again, brow furrowed.

Balkis leaped into the breach.

“Of wisest course and soundest plan,” Anthony cried triumphantly.

Balkis almost collapsed, limp from tension.

“Attack from the left!” one dragon cried.

“Fool! Attack from the right!” another shouted.

“Idiot! They have heard you and will expect us now!”

“Attack from all directions at once!” another commanded. “Some may die in the glory of flames, but others will come behind, no matter which way they face!”

“Lead, then, and die yourself!” cried a fourth. “All attack from the back! Now!”

In minutes they were quarreling among themselves so viciously that the real quarry was forgotten. A few dragons remembered and dove toward Dimetrolas and Stegoman, but a single blast of flame was enough to make them sheer off. Finally there was a space of a few minutes, during which Stegoman and Dimetrolas put their heads together; then Dimetrolas flew east and Stegoman west, both turning to descend with flame on half a dozen dragons on the fringe of the tribal argument. The half dozen shrieked at the first touch of flame and went zigzagging across the sky, but Stegoman rose above them and in front, flying faster than they, then turning to roar fire. The smaller dragons turned, shrieking, and dove to escape Dimetrolas' flame. The two larger dragons drove them down to the ledge, where they shot into their stone cotes for safety. Then the two behemoths soared back to chip another half dozen off the mass and drive them similarly down to their cotes. Again and again they soared and stooped, working in perfect unison to harry the outliers down. Finally, the dozen remaining realized the mass had shrunk tremendously and turned to fight, but at one blast fled shrieking for cover.

Then Stegoman strafed the ledge, roaring flame at the dragoneers. The few who had not already fled for safety did so now, running back into their granite-block houses. The great dragon dipped low over the ledge as he passed Anthony and Balkis, and his rider sprang off, running a few steps to shed momentum, then stopped, grinning and spreading his arms.

Balkis gave a joyful cry and ran into his embrace. “Oh, my teacher, I have so longed to see a face from home!”

“Your real home, yes, I know,” Matt said, then stepped back to look at her companion. “And who is this strapping young man to whom I'm sure I owe your safety?”

Balkis turned with delight that faded as she saw the look of resentment on Anthony's face.

Matt muttered, “Don't worry, he's just jealous!”

Joy sprang in Balkis' heart, and she ran to her love. “Oh, Anthony, it is Matthew Mantrell, my teacher, of whom I've told you! Come, you must meet him, for he and his family have been such good friends to me!”

Anthony's face cleared at the word “family.” He came forward and bowed to Matthew. “An honor to meet you, my lord.”

Matt bent an accusing glance at Balkis. “You weren't supposed to tell him I'm a lord.”

Balkis laughed, a sound of sheer delight. “Lord Matthew, this is my love Anthony, my own true love to me!” She demonstrated by stepping into the circle of his arm and pressing her head against his shoulder.

Matt smiled, trying to ignore a feeling of indignation that the girl who'd had such a huge crush on him a year before should now be so thoroughly besotted with a callow youth—but he didn't try to quell the feeling of relief that overrode all. He bowed to Anthony in his turn. “Well met, Master Anthony.”

“Oh, no master!” Anthony protested. “I am only a farmer's son, and quite innocent of any knowledge save tilling the soil and tending livestock!”

“Oh, aye, and now with knowledge of every land between here and your southern mountains,” Balkis chided, “and a skill at verse that leaves me far behind!”

“No, it is I who am the one behind,” Anthony said, grinning down at her, “for I have only the skill of ending a verse, whereas you can begin them with ease that astounds me.”

“Sounds like a good match.” Matt tried to hide a smile of amusement. But he saw how the two gazed into one another's eyes and realized how truly Balkis had spoken when she called him her own true love.

Then Balkis broke away to give Matt as stern a look as she could manage. “Why did you not send those dragons fleeing with your magic, my lord?”

“Oh, I did my share,” Matt told them. “When Dimetrolas and Stegoman started herding the beasts home, I chanted a spell about discretion being the better part of valor, and none of them even thought of fighting back.”

Balkis laughed with delight, still clinging to Anthony's hand. “I should have known! But had you realized that these dragon-riders had tamed their beasts with magic, not friendship?”

Matt stiffened. “No, I hadn't. How'd you find out?”

“I have heard enough of their barbaric accent to understand their words,” Balkis explained.

“So you cast a spell that gave the dragons their freedom.” Matt nodded. “Very smart—but how do we keep the dragons from killing off their erstwhile captors?”

“Should we?” Balkis' eyes glittered.

“Balkis!” Anthony protested, shocked. “I own what they have done is horrible, but I would not wish to see a bloodbath!”

Matt nodded approval. “I think we can take our time working out a solution—neither the people nor the dragons seem terribly eager to come out while Stegoman and Dimetrolas are on patrol.”

“Dimetrolas, yes, that was the name the dragons called out.” Balkis turned a curious gaze on the female dragon crouched next to Stegoman in the center of the village, the two resembling hawks waiting to pounce on the first rabbit careless enough to poke its head out of its burrow. In fact, whenever a dragon dared to poke its head out of one of the circular doorways of a cote, Stegoman sent it ducking for cover with a blast of flame. If a human face peered out a window, Dimetrolas sent it back with a torch. Neither of them was within fifty feet of the buildings, but the point was taken.

Balkis smiled at their cooperation. “Is Stegoman courting, then?”

“I'm impressed,” Matt said. “How'd you know it was a she?”

“By her slenderness and grace,” Balkis answered, “but chiefly by the dragons calling her a she. Where is her origin?”

“Here, it would seem,” Matt said, “though she didn't tell us—we met her guarding a mountain pass alone, no doubt waiting for fat sheep to wander by. How she got there is no doubt a long story.”

“But one she has not confided to you?”

“Right. One look at Stegoman, though, and she wouldn't leave him alone—and now we know why.”

“That she found him handsome?”

Matt nodded. “Handsome, and the first male of her species she'd ever seen who was anywhere near her own size. Speaking of long stories, though, how did you get here?”

“Tell me first,” Balkis said, “how you came to happen by when we had such need of you.”

“Mostly luck,” Matt said, “but your uncle called us in as soon as you were kidnapped. We've been searching for you ever since and just managed to pick up your trail a couple of days ago—in the nick of time, it would seem. Okay, your turn. I can guess how you came to be in the foothills of the Himalayas.” At the blank look both young folk gave him, he explained, “Anthony's southern mountains. But how did you travel from there to here?”

“Why, we walked,” Anthony said.

Balkis flashed him a smile and said, “We have simply come north, Lord Wizard—no need to be sure of the road to Maracanda until we were near enough for it to matter.”

“I'll accept that,” Matt said, “but how did you survive the valley of the giant ants? And that griddle of a desert? And… but maybe you'd better tell it to me from the beginning.”

They did, Balkis and Anthony taking turns as the three humans sat down and Matt took a wineskin from his pack. They drank only to wet their lips when they went dry, but the tale took an hour anyway. Matt listened as closely as he could, but his attention was split, trying to keep track of the conversation between the two dragons.

Stegoman said to Dimetrolas, “So you are of this flock, but grew too big for their liking.”

“Were you not cast out, too?” she asked angrily.

“I was, and for a far better reason—I could not help but breathe fire whenever I flew, and when I breathed fire, I became drunk from my own fumes and attacked any whom I imagined had offended me. My clan ripped my wings and cast me out to crawl about the land.”

“Ripped your wings?” Dimetrolas shuddered. “What a horrible punishment!” Then she stared at his half-spread, unmarked leather vanes. “But they are whole, and so handsome! I mean…”

“I thank you for the compliment,” Stegoman said gravely. “My friend Matthew healed my wings with his magic and cured me of my drunkenness. Therefore do I carry him and fight his battles.”

“I can see that such courtesy is merited.” Dimetrolas' eyes turned dreamy. “If someone were to transform me into a wee, winsome thing, only eleven feet long—”

“You would lose half your beauty,” Stegoman said instantly, “and all your fascination.”

Dimetrolas turned to him in surprise. “Do you truly find me fascinating?”

“Do you not truly find me alien?” Stegoman returned.

“No, only strange enough to intrigue me,” Dimetrolas replied with equal candor. “Your mind does not work as those of other dragons do”

“I have been among humans too long,” Stegoman acknowledged, “and one of them has a most odd sense of humor. But now I see the reason for your own solitary anger that has struck a chord of kinship within me.”

“Kinship?” Dimetrolas stared. “Then why would you not chase when I jibed?”

“I am, as you said, too serious by nature ” Stegoman told her. “Perhaps it is this removal from my own kind that has done it—or perhaps I am simply too grim and forbidding a beast.”

“I think it is lack of practice ” Dimetrolas said with a saurian smile. “I shall have to teach you to play again.” Then she raised her head high, staring down at him with the loftiest manner she could manage. “Have you anything to teach me in return, ancient lizard?”

Stegoman's lips lifted in a faint echo of her smile. “I might remember a very old game or two, chick.”

Matt smiled and focused all his attention on the young couple before him; he had a notion that any further eavesdropping would constitute an invasion of privacy.

“Thus we left the gentle old men,” Balkis finished, “and came here.”

Matt suspected that there was a lot she was leaving out, but the tale of how she and Anthony had fallen in love was none of his business. “You don't know how glad I am to see you safe.” He inclined his head toward Anthony. “Thank you for guarding her sleep.”

“I must thank her for guarding mine,” Anthony returned, “and for my look at the wide world.”

Balkis turned to him anxiously. “You do not regret leaving your hills?”

“Not a bit, strangely,” Anthony said, “and if I ever grow homesick, I can always return.”

Balkis' eyes clouded.

Anthony smiled into her eyes. “Of course, the company here is far more agreeable.”

Balkis grinned and leaned forward, head back. Anthony took the hint, and met her lips with his own.

Matt whistled the Liebestod as he gazed off toward the village, then turned back to the young lovers as they broke apart but still gazed at each other with shining eyes. He felt a pang as he remembered his first days with Alisande, and longing for her welled up in him. To get his mind off it, he said, “So you weren't deliberately walking into danger when you came into this gorge.”

“If we had known what we would find, we would surely have gone around it,” Anthony said grimly.

“We certainly did not expect to have to evade capture,” Balkis said.

“It is odd that these dragoneers do not even challenge a traveler before they attack,” Anthony mused.

“Yes, very odd.” Matt stood up, gazing at the largest building in the village. “Maybe we ought to find out why.” He set off toward the structure.

Balkis and Anthony exchanged a look of curiosity, then hurried after him, Balkis muttering under her breath.

Anthony caught the cadence of her words and asked, “What spell do you prepare?”

“One to call down lightning,” Balkis said grimly.

Matt stopped fifty feet from the building, close enough to be heard easily, far enough to avoid any surprise attacks by giving him a chance to dodge an arrow. He set his hands on his hips and called, “Parley! I'd really rather not stay here for the rest of your lives making you behave, but I can set spirit sentries if I have to!”

“You would not!” wailed a voice from within. “How should we live?”

“How do you live now?” Matt returned. “By robbing travelers and selling them into slavery?”

“We are not such cravens as that!” A lean, gray-bearded man appeared in the doorway, ramrod straight, fists clenched. “Who are you who comes to insult us so?”

“One who came to make you mend your evil ways,” Matt retorted. “Come out and talk—if you have the courage.”

The man eyed Stegoman and Dimetrolas. “Come out, to be burned by your pets?”

Stegoman rumbled warning, and Dimetrolas hissed with anger.

“I think you know Dimetrolas well enough to realize she could never be anyone's pet,” Matt said, “though she could choose to be a strong ally—and might want a spot of revenge. Nonetheless, I don't think either of them would want to fry me, so if you're standing near me, you'll be safe.”

“What of the distance between this hall and yourself?”

“Let's make a deal,” Matt said. “You don't shoot any arrows, and the dragons won't crisp you until after the parley's over and you've gone back inside.”

The man glanced at Stegoman and Dimetrolas again. “I will accept those terms, if they will.”

“I shall hold my fire,” Stegoman rumbled, “though I shall bid you mind your speech, human!” He turned to the female. “Dimetrolas?”

“I shall withhold also,” she replied, though warily. “You and I have an old score, Lugerin!”

Stegoman stiffened. “Was it he bade the dragons exile you?”

“He it was who began the talk,” Dimetrolas replied, “though he left it to the lizards to do his shabby deeds.” She showed all her teeth and spoke toward the building. “He feared my size, but would have had no cause if I had stayed. Now, though, he is right to fear! Still, Lugerin, I will wait for my revenge—but bring Ginelur, for no bargain will be binding without both of your assents!”

“She shall come,” Lugerin grumbled, and so darkly that Matt was sure he had planned on an escape clause.

Lugerin leaned back into the hall for a few muttered words, then came out side by side with an older woman, tall and striking, with a mane of raven hair streaked by a central band of silver. They came forward, both clad in leather embossed with brass—not quite armor, certainly more than casual wear.

They halted five feet from Matt. Ginelur demanded, “Why have you come here?”

“Looking for my young friends,” Matt answered, “who are traveling to Maracanda and certainly did not deserve attack. Why did you try to kidnap them?”

“We do not sell slaves!” Lugerin snapped.

Matt caught the implication. “But you do enslave travelers. Do they farm for you in hidden fields?”

Both dragoneers flushed, and Matt knew he had scored. “If they offend us, and if the gales are too strong,” Ginelur said stiffly, “we sacrifice them to the wind-spirits at the changing of the year.”

The equinoxes, Matt guessed, those being the windy times. “What on earth makes you think you have the right to capture anybody you please?”

“The right of revenge!” Lugerin snapped. “Our ancestors farmed this valley in peace, but again and again barbarians swept in to raid. At last our ancestors built these cliff-houses for retreats when the reavers came, and thus saved their lives, saved their wives and children from capture and slavery—but lost their crops and became prey to starvation.”

“So you're taking revenge on people who didn't commit the crime.” Matt shook his head, remembering a girl or two who had treated him with suspicion and jealousy because old boyfriends had loved them and left them, and a man he knew who had loved and left a young woman in revenge for others' abandonment. “Well, it's a human failing. Still, you should have outgrown it by now.”

“That revenge was taken against the barbarians at first, you may be sure!” Ginelur told him. “Olien, our ancestors' shaman, learned how to tame the dragons with his magic. We then had mounts more fearsome than the barbarians' horses, and have repelled every raid since.”

“Repelled, and taken slaves and warriors to sacrifice in our own turn, as they did to us!” Lugerin spat.

“How many centuries ago was this? Not much for holding a grudge, are you?”

“Our safety lies in our savagery!” Ginelur retorted. “The barbarians have not ridden against us in three generations, you may be sure!”

“So when you ran out of barbarians, you started in on random travelers.”

“Would they not loot and pillage if they had the chance?” Ginelur said defiantly.

“Not these two.” Matt nodded toward Anthony and Balkis. “And not quite a few others over the centuries, I'll wager. They would now, of course, after suffering your enslavement. Even gentle people tend to do to others what you've done to them. But if dragons are your strength, why were you afraid of Dimetrolas?”

“Because she grew far more than was acceptable,” Ginelur said. “Now and again one of the huge wild dragons would turn rogue and burn houses, even people—so our ancestors bred them to become smaller and more manageable.”

Stegoman spat an oath. “You robbed them not only of their freedom, but also of the size that was their birthright?”

“They were dangerous to us,” Lugerin said, flint-faced. “Therefore do we cast out the throwbacks who grow toward ancestral size.”

“Stand away, Matthew,” Stegoman growled. “He deserves burning. They all do.”