On Fire's Wings - Christie Golden [135]
He looked indignant. “I am not a mere sa’abah. I am the Great Dragon, a creature of magic. I will bear what I need to bear, as, my dear, will you. Well, let’s be about it then.”
With a grunt, he lowered himself to the earth, crouching on his haunches with his forelegs extended straight out in front of him. Even so, it was no easy feat for the men to clamber aboard his back. Kevla waited until they had all mounted, watching with satisfaction as fear turned into awed delight. Then she stepped astride the Dragon’s lowered neck. Her father—ai, it was still so strange to think of the powerful Tahmu-kha-Rakyn that way—sat behind her.
Turning to look at the men, she called, “You must hold tightly to one another. You have been enemies before, but now your life depends on the man in front of and behind you. Grasp the Dragon’s spine ridges as well, you won’t hurt him.”
When her father made no move to secure himself to her, she looked over her shoulder at him.
“It’s all right,” she said softly, for his ears alone. “You once put your arm around me like this to keep me from falling from Swift. Let me return the favor now.”
An odd look passed over his face, then he nodded impassively. His strong arms went around her waist, and for an instant, she became that little girl again, spinning a marvelous fantasy about being the khashim’s daughter. She wondered if he, too, was reliving that moment.
But that was long ago, and the success of her journey now would affect more lives than those of herself and her father. She faced forward. When she was convinced they were ready, she nodded to the Dragon. She felt him gather himself, trying to adjust to the extra weight of so many riders. His big sides swelled, then subsided as he drew and expelled a breath. He lowered his head, and she sensed—there was no other word for it—the Dragon willing himself to carry this strange new weight. Then, as gently and smoothly as he could, the mighty creature leaped skyward.
Kevla smothered a grin as she heard gasps and oaths behind her. Her father tightened his grip around her waist reflexively, then she felt him force himself to relax.
She permitted herself to close her eyes and enjoy the feeling of the night wind on her face. How she loved this! The moment she had first tentatively mounted the Dragon, she felt an immediate sense of familiarity. She knew exactly how to balance herself and had a complete trust in her friend. The men behind her quieted, but she knew they were still anxious.
It was so peaceful, so quiet up here, away from the noises of the earth. The only sound was the steady, powerful rhythm of the Dragon’s wings, and her own breath. Upward he went, until the campfires of the clans were nothing but tiny specks.
Now the Dragon gently turned toward the mountain range. It was strange to behold them, seemingly so tiny, when for so many centuries their fearsome, jagged peaks had effectively protected Arukan from the rest of the world. Mount Bari loomed over the rest as the Dragon approached the place that had been his home for so long.
Kevla craned her neck. “Look down,” she cried to the men behind her. They all did so, and Kevla smiled. Through the haze of black smoke, she could see directly into the heart of the molten pool of liquid rock. Where she had submerged only to be reborn. Where the Dragon had slept for centuries, awaiting her.
But now the Dragon’s deceptively easy wingbeats carried them smoothly over the Sacred Mountain, and Kevla felt her heart speed up as for the first time she, indeed any Arukani, beheld what lay on the other side of the mountain chain.
At first, this far side looked much like its twin in Arukan. Then, she caught sight of something in the distance.
They might not have believed words, she thought with a combination of exhilaration and apprehension, but surely they will believe this.
They would likely have no clear sight of the armies tonight, no soldiers or tents or engines of war. It was too dark for that; too dark, as well, for the Emperor’s forces to see a mighty Dragon wheeling