Chapter 4
A bare century later, Flairé and Tam had taken to wandering the wilderness, inseparable as always. The lance and sword were honing themselves to new levels, and Flairé was nearly Tam’s equal now in combat, as well as in height – he had finally come to his adulthood. They always chose the most difficult paths across the mountains, gradually working their way east and south, travelling vaguely parallel to the Moonland-Dragonland border. Sometimes they joined groups of travellers, making new acquaintances and occasionally protecting them from harm. People began to call them the Blue Lance and the Crow, and made much of them when they wandered into a town.
In that time, while protecting travellers, there was one whom they ran into often. Syuthowalth was young and pretty; a weaver-girl with long dark-brown hair and large grey eyes. She travelled among the smaller villages in the mountains, gathering threads and wools to amass a large collection, piled on the back of her donkey, that she would take to her home in the Dragon-land city and turn into fabric. Then she would give the fabric to her seamstress friend who made clothes and other cloth things out of it, like upholstery and drapes.
Flairé liked her, and her sense of humour that, while gentler than his or Tam’s, was playful and innocent. They were soon friends, though they only travelled together for a month before Syuthowalth returned to the city. He promised to write to her not infrequently, and they parted with a laugh. Tam would have teased his younger companion, but Flairé clearly thought of her as a playmate and nothing more.
The two remaining wandering kalmei had followed a long spur of the mountains down into the forests of the Moonland when they met a larger group talking animatedly. Tam and Flairé slipped in behind them and were greeted quietly while they listened to the conversation in front.
“And my cousin said that the unicorns have found out what the disappearances in the north are,” one said.
“Oh, really now?” said another sceptically. “And do you believe him?”
“Well, why not? He’s as truthful as any. Maybe he doesn’t believe it himself. He just told me what his friend from the Unicorn-land told him.”
“But what was it?” asked a third, eagerly. “Never mind the truth of it for now. We’ll figure that out later.” Flairé made a perplexed face at such a foolish notion, popping one eye while scrunching up the other. Tam snerked at him and made the same face back.
“It’s said to be a black unicorn, The Black Unicorn, they call it, and it’s completely deranged. It has no sanity, but it’s very cunning.”
“The Black Unicorn?” Tam said curiously. “I’ve never heard of such a creature.”
“Well, you haven’t been in the city recently, have you?” said one traveller near him. “I heard about that creature from my brother in law.”
Tam raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Flairé began talking to one of the other travellers about unicorns.
After a while, Tam beckoned Flairé off the road, waving goodbye to the group, and under a pine tree stood a while in thought. Flairé looked up at its awe-inspiring height and wondered if Menad still climbed trees, and if he’d like to climb this one.
“Hey, Flairé, lad, let’s talk this over. I really want to go back to the Nunathoemlen and check this out, hm? But we’re – you’re supposed to be exploring the mountains. What say we split up?”
“Do you think I’m strong enough?” Flairé asked, and then inhaled as if trying to reswallow the words.
Tam winced. “Famous last words in the wild. Either you are or you aren’t. I’d think you’d have realized that by now.”
Flairé nodded, still flushed from his slip of the tongue.
“Well, think it over. We can decide tomorrow. There’s no rush.”
Flairé nodded again.
“But, remember, lad, you must prove yourself to yourself sometime. I’d never trade our time together away for the world, but you’re still the son of a prince and someday you will have to lead me.”
“Lead… you?” Flairé asked, frowning at the unfamiliar thought.
Tam grinned abruptly. “We’ll be like your dad and Gyoriing, hey? You my prince and guide, and I your knight and guard. And friend and advisor. Et cetera. What abou’ it?”
Flairé’s eyes sparkled. “That sounds brilliant. Let’s do that. I’ll go on south alone. You go and find out about this strange unicorn. Come back in one piece, please.”
“See, already you sound like a leader!” Tam exclaimed, clapping him on the back. “I should have said that long ago.” He laughed.
Flairé quirked an eyebrow. “I’m sorry for leaning on you all this time.”
Tam shook his multi-coloured head. “No apologies. We walked as equals. Now all I want for you is to prove to yourself that you can be a leader, the same as – or likely, better than me. You’re not crazy like me, but you’re strong and you have a strong personality.”
“Thanks, Tam,” the other said. “Though you’re not crazy. You just act like it.”
Tam pouted. “Got me all figured out, don’t you, lad?”
“Yep.”
Tam stood still a moment, then reached out and tapped Flairé on the shoulder. “Tag!”
“What? Hey, wait up!”
Zela had gone to the Dragonland, as well, alone with Yoeath. At first Flaria had been going to come with her, but then the quiet girl decided she would much rather stay at home and look after Menad. Flaer’s work in the city kept him from coming, and it was only getting heavier as the city got more complex and more people lived in it. He and officials were at that time debating the merits of taxes on furniture for the benefit of the King’s intention to pave more of the roads outside of the city.
So Zela had gone to the Dragonland with Yoeath instead to see if she could find out anything about the reports of social unrest, and whether it was among the dragons or the kalmaei.
Her first few months were utterly boring to her; if the Unicorn-land had a straight-laced society, in which Tam stood out like a sore thumb painted purple and wearing a little hat, the Dragon-land society was almost worse, for it had fewer etiquette rules, but more intrigue.
In the Unicorn-land, kalmaei and unicorns said what was proper, acted proper, and – for the kalmaei, dressed proper. Dressing properly was very important in the Unicorn-land. Zela thought it silly, and got looks askance in return. But there, after the important things were done, one could still express what one thought – in private, with close friends and family, and trust them.
In the Dragon-land, rules were more relaxed outwardly. However, if one said the wrong thing, one could be sure that society would – temporarily, at least – shun one. Zela had heard that Kiirstril was constantly trying to reverse this ideology, but his own son followed it as everyone else did. Shlaes, the queen, was withdrawn from society altogether, despite the strange rumours she caused by it.
The dragons were an integral part of the city, too. The architecture was designed around their sinuous bulk, and there were huge stone couches everywhere, even in the streets, for them to lounge on while they were talking. There were five distinct colours of dragons, gold, silver, scarlet, emerald, and marine – the last two simply elaborate names for their colours blue and green, and nothing to do with jewels or the sea.
If it hadn’t been for the dancing, Zela felt she surely would have fallen asleep of boredom and not woken up. The dancing in the Dragon-land was always lively and rather exotic compared to the other realms, and the music was rhythmic and impossible not to dance to. She missed Flaer, and wished he could be there to dance beside her, for them to forget for a few moments together the spiritual scars of their lost children. Yoeath, contrastingly, found the place fascinating, and it seemed many liked her, though she learned less than Zela about what they had come to learn.
Zela went to gatherings, parties, meetings, but for the first four months, found absolutely no clue as to why people would come to the other lands and say “There is something wrong in the Dragonland; there is discontent and talk of revolution.”
She assumed it was more because she was considered a foreigner, and while not terribly recognizable, many people knew who she was. But they, outwardly, at least, thought she was only there to dance and to escape the Moon-land for a short while with one of her dearest friends.
Then, one day, she was in the right place at the right time, and felt that all her attending social functions of the kalmaei had been in vain.
She was walking along a high bridge between two towers in the rain – the Dragonland capital was a city of slender, angular spires and webs of bridges connecting them, in a grey valley above a jade green lake – when something roared overhead and two powerful whooshes of air buffeted her against the railing. Zela forgot all notion of going from her apartment to the marketplace and instead leaned over the railing to watch.
A blue dragon was chasing a silver dragon across the city. Both were clearly furious, and the blue dragon had a small kalla, an elf-woman, dressed in armour, clinging to the spines on his back. Gleaming, scaly heads poked out of windows in towers and caves in the mountainside, and rose from nests to see what was going on.
The dragons returned to the towers Zela was walking between, dodging around them.
“Why do you do this?” called the blue dragon.
“I won’t stand for it anymore!” cried the silver dragon, wings beating powerfully as it hovered above the tower, watching the blue. “I cannot sit by while there is plot and treason in the land! I shan’t be silent any longer!”
“Treason is a strong word,” roared the other dragon. “Be careful of whom you accuse!” called the kalla on his back.
“Silver!” called Zela to the dragon. It was acceptable to call dragons by their colour if one didn’t know their name.
“Who are you?” the dragon cried, turning towards her and diving to get a closer view.
Zela stood steadily against the rush of wind and silver, silver scales, silver claws, silver teeth, silver wing webs, but brilliant, pale blue eyes. “Silver!” she called again. “I am Zela.”
That was all she managed to say before she had to spring aside from the blue dragon. “Lady Zela of the North? More like spy from the Moonland!” he roared.
Zela reached down and tore the lower part of her lavender-coloured skirt off in case she had to do any more dodging. “I would argue with you, but I wish to speak to this dragon.”
“Lady Zela?” said the silver dragon. “Please, climb on. I will take you to safety – such as there is.”
“There will be no escape for either of you,” cried the blue dragon. “Youlastal, call another. We’ll sacrifice ourselves for the others, but we must have back-up before the knights come.”
The elf-woman blew shrilly on a silver whistle, and two more dragons, another blue and a green, rose into the air above the city and flew swiftly in their direction.
Zela slid onto the silver dragon’s neck, tying the torn-off remains of her skirt around her waist and then wrapping her arms around the smooth round neck. “Where are we going?”
“Up,” said the silver, wings pounding the air on either side of Zela. They rose to such a height that the buildings looked like toys, and the people watching open-mouthed like specks. The other dragons followed them as fast as they could, and because they were bigger and had more original momentum, looked like they were going to catch up to them.
“Down,” said the silver when they had reached the edge of the clouds raining on the spires of the city. Zela braced herself, and the silver dragon looped itself over and dove, just before a blast of fire from one of the blues shot through the air where she had been.
Faster, faster, they blasted downwards towards the sharp stone spires, and Zela half-shut her eyes against the wind. At the last second, past the last second, the silver altered her angle and swooped into a wide street, heading under arches. She touched down and began to gallop, folding her wings tightly to her back, sending pedestrians of both races ducking for cover.
“We should head to the castle,” Zela said, and the silver gave a grunt of agreement.
The road, quickly becoming a tunnel with all the arches and towers overhead, was long and winding. The silver gave quick glances to the sides as she careened down the street.
Suddenly she gave a start and darted off into a side road. Two big red dragons had appeared in her path, blocking it entirely. She zipped through side streets, trying to get back on course, but dragons kept appearing in the way she wanted to go and even innocent crowds got in her way.
“Go back up!” Zela called. “No good this way – they can outmanoeuvre us from the air. Just have to hold on until the knights come!” The silver nodded once and leapt over a crowd, clawing at the wall until she could clamber onto a bridge, spread her wide wings, and spring into the air again.
They were still in the thick of the city, getting closer to the castle, but not close enough. They were still herded to the right, towards the mountainside, and their pursuers never showed themselves long enough for Zela to get a good look at them, though she probably wouldn’t have recognized them anyway – dragons were not her strong point. Unicorns were.
They were so close to the castle, so close the disappointment was nearly a physical sensation, when the silver ran into a dead end, a short cave formed by a building below, towers on either side, and a bridge close overhead. She turned quick as a cat, and found the green right behind her. He had a rider, too. The other two blues dropped lazily down behind him, and all three advanced, their riders dismounting and brandishing weapons.
“Look!” Zela cried, pointing to the sky. Golden dragons with purple neckbands, knights of Kiirstril, were circling, trying to find a way down to the disturbance.
The kalmaei glanced up, but the dragons didn’t so much as blink.
“Just a few more moments, and we’ll be all right,” Zela said softly.
“You don’t have a few more moments,” said the elf who had first challenged the silver from the back of the blue. “Knock them out and let’s get out of here.”
For answer Zela, in a torn dress and completely unarmed, darted forward, straight towards their armed and armoured opponents. Two of them dodged rather than attacking. She tore a short sword from the belt of one wielding an axe and cried over her shoulder: “Silver! I’ll deal with the dragons! You’ll have to take on the kalmaei!”
The silver sat up on her haunches and roared, and then spat fire at the feet of the kalmaei. Zela swung herself up onto the shoulder of the green and gave him a thump on the head with the hilt, and then dodged the claws of one of the blues.
“This isn’t working!” cried the silver desperately. “I don’t know how to fight kalmaei!”
“All right!” Zela called back. “I’m coming!” She ducked two claws and a tail, grabbed hold of a blue wing, and leapt back towards the silver, landing in front just in time to lock sword with axe.
“Watch out,” said one of her opponents to another. “You know how good she is.”
“I know,” the other answered.
Zela parried again and again. “Have we fought before, in a tournament perhaps?”
“That would be it, wouldn’t it?” replied her antagonist, a smile reflected in the words coming from under his helmet.
Zela made no reply, concentrating on fighting the three. The silver dragon seemed to be doing all right against the two blues, but the green was moving to flank her. Zela slowly switched places with one of the fighters and backed up until she could protect that side of the dragon.
“The knights are coming,” hissed the green dragon. “Hurry up!”
Zela was still smiling tightly in anticipation of success when a blue paw came out of nowhere and batted her against the wall. She caught a glimpse of the silver with her neck in the jaws of the green dragon and then saw only black.
