He was tall, erect, and dressed immaculately in a tan uniform with leather trim. A blade hung at his right side, the hilt chased with silver and inset with gems. He raised his hand in a peremptory fashion.

  I was flanked by Vana and Chani. Their Blades stood slightly ahead of us. Rondal had placed his hand on the hilt of his sword. The boy had good instincts.

  “Which one of you is Mistress Circe?”

  “I am Lady Circe.”

  He snorted. “If you are a Mage, where is your Blade?”

  “I can’t say.”

  He pulled a piece of paper from his belt. It was thick and bore a seal that had been broken.

  “I have here an order to detain you.”

  “For what reason?” I was genuinely puzzled.

  “Not your business.” He snapped a finger, and two guards came forward. “Escort her to the barracks. Place her in a cell.”

  Sergeant Ailse stepped up. “My Lord, she is Meld’Eldali?. Perhaps you would reconsider—”

  “Who are you?” He scowled at Ailse. “You are not an officer, I see. And Meld’Eldali?? There has not been one in over two hundred years. Nonsense.”

  “She saved us from certain death on the road, my Lord. She is a Mage of some—”

  I stepped on Ailse’s foot. He stopped speaking. I inclined my head at the noble.

  “And you are?”

  I had seen puffer fish with less ability to inflate. “Lord Sudryal, of the House Durothil.”

  I nodded thoughtfully. “Well met, my Lord. May I collect my baggage from the wagon first?”

  “Hm.” He studied me, then jerked his head at the two guards. “Accompany her.”

  I walked back to the wagon and pulled out my pack. As I draped it over my shoulder, I spun two strands out, one around each guard’s legs. I smiled at them, turned, and walked towards the rear of the cargo bed. I heard two thuds and cursing as the men fell on the ground, and caught a glimpse of Sudryal’s face, mouth open in shock, as I rounded the back of the vehicle.

  Then I triggered my veil.

  While the watch was combing the caravan and fanning out down the road from where we’d come, I was strolling through Kai’Tach. It was more town than city, with modest buildings, a few scattered parks, and open avenues. I found a restaurant with a dining area on the second floor. By the time my food had arrived, I was treated to the sight of Sudryal storming down the street below, shouting at his men. I pulled out my map and examined the inset that showed the city.

  Unless I was mistaken, the road north was best accessed through a gate about a stad away. And if travellers did arrive there with any frequency, there should be an inn.

  Two treks later I was installed in a comfortable room with a large bed and an adjoining bathroom. I soaked in the tub for a while; this would probably be the last chance for a warm dip for some time. I paged through the history book, halting to read the description of Raskana’s reign, but could not concentrate on the words.

  I hated bathing alone.

  A few shops were open early, and I purchased a tenday’s worth of trail rations: mainly dried fruit and nuts, some cereal, and a few slabs of smoked meat. I looked to the east, where the peaks were lit by the suns, and picked up a thick jacket and a pair of light boots as well.

  The northern road was poorly maintained and little travelled. I saw a couple of carts early in the morning, but they left the main track soon enough. I assumed that there were small farms in the area. A couple of walkers passed me heading to Kai’Tach, and we exchanged greetings. After that, I was on my own.

  To my right I could see a rolling set of foothills. They were green on their lower slopes and faded to tan and grey higher up. Beyond them—seemingly close enough to touch—loomed the peaks of the Dragon’s Teeth mountains. They were jagged and severe, with snow-capped summits that cast plumes of ice and clouds downwind. From time to time, I caught a glimpse of a soaring reptile of some type, with long fan-like tails and broad wingspans. But I saw no sign of a dragon.

  The road climbed slowly and entered the foothills. When I paused for a noon meal, I looked back towards Kai’Tach. The city was barely visible in the distance, and the trail was empty of life. The wind off the mountains was mounting and kicked up dust from the slopes, lofting it towards the sky. Streets of cumuli marched downwind, their undersides dark and convex from the pressure of the thermals. Below a couple of clouds, I could see gaggles of soaring reptiles, turning in ascending spirals.

  I finished eating and walked on.

  Camp that evening was on a small ledge overlooking the trail. The road had petered out, and I was now following a stony path that had seen little use. The vegetation had also changed; the original forest had thinned and was replaced with smaller trees, wind-twisted and purple-leafed. I set up my tarp between two shrubs and weighted the corners with stones. The ground was hard under my blankets, and dinner was cold meat and fruits. The chilled wind from the mountains brought the scent of rocks and ice, and I pulled up a small fireball in lieu of a blaze.

  In the twilight the Arc shone above me, ghostly in its magnificence, the moons dancing through the braided rings. As the light faded, more stars appeared, until it was as if the sky was covered in glowing dust.

  From the trail below me I heard a syncopated clicking. I stared into the deepening dusk and saw movement along the path. Dim shapes resolved into the forms of two adult theranaq: a large female and the smaller male, both making their way to the north. In the faint backlight from the last gleam of sunset, I could pick out their crests and tail feathers. Behind them in single file paced three chicks, each about the size of a large chilla. I sat without moving, willing them to pass.

  The trailing youngster skirted a boulder on the side of the trail and looked around. Its eyes focused on my position, as it cocked its head to the side. I realized that my fireball was glowing slightly. The chick hesitated and then climbed up the slope to peer at my campsite. It stared at the faint light and raised its gaze to meet mine. I heard an impatient chirping sound from one of the parents. We locked stares for a moment, and then it turned to follow its family, moving with a curious hopping gait, as if it was on springs.

  I sat utterly still for over half a trek. I heard no further sounds, and eventually I moved as quietly as I could and set up a series of wards about the camp. Then I laid down in my bed and stared at the sky. Eventually, I slept.

  Sunrise came late; the mountains rose to the east and stood like a wall between me and the morning light. I was in shadow until mid-morning, shivering slightly in the dawn chill until the effort of climbing warmed me. I saw no sign of the theranaq, and the stony ground held no trace of their passage. It was as if the empty landscape had swallowed them whole.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  I forded one small creek and took the opportunity to refill my water flask. By noon I was making my way along a ridge. To my right was a long bowl, rimmed by my hill to the west and by a higher massif to the east. To my left the ground sloped away to a grassy plain, where I could make out a few groups of some type of herbivores, moving slowly as they grazed. I paused for a brief rest and rotated my shoulders to ease the ache from carrying my pack. Out of habit, I checked my back trail and saw a dark shape low in the sky, heading north along the ridge. I blinked as I tried to judge distance and size and realized that the creature was much larger than I had imagined.

  The dragon almost clipped the rise that demarcated the south end of the bowl. I could see now that it was flying clumsily, as if it was crabbing into a non-existent crosswind. Its wings were unmoving, and the left was lower than the right. I could see a long object projecting from its chest just behind the foreleg. It dropped into the valley and began to flare as it neared the ground. Its left wingtip struck the earth and its body turned at right angles to the axis of travel and skidded along the floor of the bowl. Sand, gravel and dust sprayed in streamers behind its path, and it finally came to rest against a cluster of boulders.

  I began to descend the slope towards the crash site before I had time to think. I took long gliding steps, skidding down the hill on loose rocks and sand, pebbles scattering before me. I waved my arms wildly to maintain my balance, and slipped twice, careening for part of the way on my seat. When I reached the bottom, I ran towards the dragon, only slowing when I approached the massive head. As I came to a halt, its eye opened.

  The object in its chest was a spear so large as to almost be a lance. Bright red blood oozed from around the entry site, and I could see a few scarlet bubbles forming and collapsing. The leg itself on that side was bent and twisted. The end of the left wing was wrapped in a silvery mesh of metal bands that were larger but otherwise identical to the magic-dampening mechanism the collared had used against our Mages.

  I opened my mouth and closed it again. I had no idea how to speak to a dragon. Finally, I found my voice.

  “I’m Circe,” I said, “I saw you crash. Can I help?”

  The eye blinked once and stared at me. The pupil was vertical, black, and set in an amber iris flecked with green that glowed in the light of the yellow sun. The eye itself was the size of a dinner plate and rimmed with golden scales. What I had taken to be a black body and forearms were a dark blue.

  “Crash?” The voice I heard was in my head. For some reason, I knew she was female. “Merely an awkward landing.”

  I put my hands on my hips. “You ground looped. Anyway, you’re hurt. What happened, and what can I do?”

  The dragon regarded me, and I sensed amusement. “This may be the first time I have had my flying criticized by a human. As to what happened—I was careless, and arrogant. I saw an injured kamcha on a high plateau. Rather than questioning its provenance, I landed for a meal and was attacked.”

  “Was it by the collared?”

  “If you refer to those that wear bands about their necks, then yes.” I heard a mental sigh. “I was able to leap off the edge of the mesa, but I cannot use my wings to climb. And—” there was a snarl of frustration, echoed by a rumble from her throat, “—I cannot reach my magic.”

  “It’s that material wrapped around your wing. It absorbs and negates mana.”

  “Can you remove it?”

  I shook my head. “It’s impervious to my own spells, and I lack the tools. I can go for help. But we must fix your chest first. That spear is embedded in your lung. I am a Healer.”

  “Ah, you are a Mage then?” She studied me with an intensity that I found frightening. “Child, I appreciate your passion, but you cannot repair me. The weapon is barbed, and you will not be able to remove it. I cannot walk, and I cannot fly. The ones who did this pursue me and will be here in a matter of a few treks. I have no idea what they seek.”

  “Oh Goddess.” I sat down, horrified. “They are going to use you as a weapon.”

  “As if I would serve them.”

  “You don’t understand. They must have a collar large enough to fit you. Once it’s in place, you will die, and—” I swallowed against a surge of nausea, “—your body will be reduced to a puppet.”

  The dragon closed her eye once more. She lay there unmoving for a time and then regarded me once more. I was crying silently.

  “Child. You are kind. And I am going to ask you a great favour.”

  “Anything.”

  “Do not be so hasty. I must have access to my magic to face them.” She looked at her wing. “And I must give you an object to guard and deliver.”

  “But I can’t remove the bands from your wing.”

  “I understand. Can you remove the wing itself?”

  “Goddess!” I shook my head. “You can’t fly without it.”

  “I cannot in any event. Do this for me. I beg of you.”

  I was sobbing openly now. I looked towards the end of the valley, then turned back to her. “I will.” I felt ill and could not see. I angrily wiped the tears from my eyes and approached the wing.

  “Now, child.”

  I formed a large enough shield to encompass the chord of her wing inside the bands, placed a second barrier underneath, and then clenched my jaw and brought the first down in a smooth motion. She gave a roar that almost deafened me, and the outer third of the wing fell to the ground. Blood gushed out of the stump and spattered on the earth. Her scales shifted from dark blue to indigo, and there was a crackle of mana that I could feel more than see.

  “Ah.” She gave a gasp of relief. “Now, child—”

  “Circe.”

  “Circe. I am going to lay. You must take it.”

  “Pardon?”

  “An egg, of course.”

  “Oh. Where?”

  If a dragon could raise an eyebrow, she would have. “Where do you think? Do they not instruct the young in matters of childbirth these days?”

  “Oh.” I walked down towards her hind legs. I could sense a building tsunami of mana and had to shield my magesight so it would not blind me. Ripples passed down her abdomen and terminated at the base of the tail. A slit opened, and a spherical object the size of a basketball fell without warning. I barely managed to catch it before it struck the ground. I brought it back to her head.

  The egg was round and was an iridescent blue. It was warm and slightly rubbery to the touch. The dragon lifted her head for the first time to examine it and grunted with satisfaction.

  “Circe. Listen and see most carefully. You must take my egg to the Place of Birthing. Here—”

  The world around me disappeared. It was if I was soaring over the basin in which I stood. Then I moved over the foothills and towards the mountains. The hills climbed, became steeper and higher, and were slashed by canyons in places. The feet of the mountains rose and ahead I saw a tenuous trail that led to the mouth of a cave. A waterfall spilled mist and foam beside the grotto and smoke issued from the opening.

  “—is where you must go. Only you may enter; the egg will grant safe passage. Any pursuers—” there was a sense of grim purpose, “—will not fare well. But Circe, do not let our enemies capture my egg. Else all is lost.”

  I was back in the present, gasping with the force of the vision.

  “What will you do?” I wrapped the egg in my blanket and placed it in the backpack as I spoke.

  “They are going to find out why it is a poor idea to try to capture a dragon. Now, leave as quickly as you can. Get out of this valley, go as far as possible, and shield yourself as best you can.”

  “I will.” I was shaking. “My Lady Dragon, may I know your name?”

  “Raskana. Now, in the name of the Goddess, run.”

  I ran.

  The north end of the valley was over a stad away. I sprinted the first few steps and then settled down to the fastest pace I could manage: short of an outright run, but more than a trot. The pack bounced against my back, and I prayed to my Goddess that the egg could withstand the abuse. My breath was coming in gasps and sweat ran into my eyes. The footing was uneven, and I placed my feet as carefully as I could; a twisted ankle would finish me. As I reached the slope at the north end, I looked back. I could see dim forms walking over the rim and beginning to descend into the basin.

  I scrambled up the rise, sometimes upright, sometimes on hands and feet. The loose scree crumbled as I climbed, and I slid back more than once. As the slope levelled, I glanced back once more. The hunters were now halfway to Raskana. I began to run again, heading for a rocky outcrop a few hundred paces away. By the time that I arrived, I was wheezing and choking. I dashed behind the crude shelter and crouched down in a small dip below one of the larger crags. I steadied my breathing and pulled up a shield that I positioned so that it arose from the base of the rock and arched over my head. I poured in mana to strengthen it further and added a second barrier just outside the first.

  I crouched in my improvised shelter and shook with exhaustion and fear. I had just started to raise my head when there was a soundless flash. The light lit up the rocks facing the valley so brightly that I closed my eyes, only to see purple afterimages and streaks. Four or five tocks later, the blast struck like Athena’s axe. Dust and stones blew past my improvised bunker, and the few shrubs on the plateau were denuded in an instant. The sound was a giant’s roar that went on and on; I clamped my hands over my ears and rocked back and forth. Burning branches and ashes fell from the sky, and the air was smoky. When I finally dared to drop my shields and step out from behind the rocks a quarter trek later, I saw a column of smoke and ash climbing higher than the clouds and twisting as though it was in agony.

  “Raskana,” I said, “may you fly in peace over the Arc, my Lady.”