Naamah's Kiss - Jacqueline Carey [259]
The princess stepped into the cupped palm of the dragon's claw and held out her hand to me. Her eyes met mine—mortal, grave, and dark.
I gathered my things and took her hand, climbing into the dragon's palm. Glistening claws clicked shut around us.
The dragon launched himself skyward.
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
It was like… Ah, stone and sea! It was like nothing anyone else in the annals of history had ever known.
The ground fell away beneath us.
We were airborne.
Snow Tiger and I clung to the thick columns of the dragon's claws, peering out between them.
His energy surged through us. It was not the same as it had been when he was trapped within her. It was more distant and secondary, a mere affect of physical nearness. But it warmed and strengthened me, and drove the shivers from my bones; and I think for her, too.
We soared above the mountain.
"There!" I shouted, pointing. Two figures in a narrow pass clogged with dead men's bodies jumped up and down, waving to us. "It's Bao! Bao and Dai! Can we not rescue them, too? Please?"
Grumbling deep in his chest, the dragon descended.
Bao and Ten Tigers Dai scrambled aboard his outstretched claw, eyes stretched wide with wonder.
The dragon launched himself again.
I eyed Bao, reassuring myself that he was still in one piece. Although his staff was broken into two pieces, Bao appeared to be intact. "Are you all right?"
"Uh-huh." He gazed in awe at the receding ground. "Moirin… we are riding in a dragon's hand."
I laughed aloud for the sheer joy of it. "I know!"
Dai stole shy glances at the princess, almost as awed by the sight of her bare face as he was by the dragon.
The journey that had taken us two days on horseback and foot was a matter of minutes' work for the dragon. He glided effortlessly through the sky, and wind streamed through the protective cage of his claw. I should have been frightened, but I was exhilarated instead. I daresay all of us were.
At least until we reached the battlefield.
From such a height, nothing looked real. It looked like a child's game of toy soldiers and horses one might find spread out across the floor of a nursery, littered with broken pieces. But I knew all too well that each of those broken toys had once been a living, breathing being, and that the red smears on them were blood, not paint.
All the fighting had stopped. Men who had been locked in mortal combat only moments ago stood side by side, gazing at the sky and the impossible glory of the celestial creature soaring above them. The bronze tubes gleamed silently in the sunlight.
The dragon roared, the sound echoing off the distant peak. Below us, soldiers dropped to their knees.
I am going to call the rain. He sounded apologetic. You will get wet again. But they need to know Heaven is displeased.
"He is calling the rain," I said to the others. "And we are getting wetter."
The clouds gathered first around the peak of White Jade Mountain, water rising from the snow, from the hidden lake. White wisps rose and gathered, thickened to billows, then began to darken, blotting out the sun.
The dragon roared again, calling them.
A long, rolling peal of thunder answered him, growing louder and louder, crashing over the battlefield in a mighty crescendo. I caught a glimpse of men clapping their hands over their ears in pain, it was so loud. There would be no doubt in the minds of any who had fought that day at White Jade Mountain. They had heard a thunder that was truly divine.
And then the storm was upon us, and I saw no more.
It was terrifying, but it was beautiful, too. We were inside the dark, ominous rain-swollen clouds, a thousand times thicker than the densest fog. Here and there, lightning flickered. The clouds unleashed a torrent of rain, sending it sheeting down onto Lord Jiang's side of the battlefield, drowning their campfires behind the lines of battle, drowning the bronze weapons and their deadly fire-powder. Rain lashed us, too, but the dragon held us clutched gently beneath his immense