Realm of Light - Deborah Chester [89]
Both Thyzarenes blanched and backed up. Fotel stared with his mouth open, fear in his eyes. Bwend bowed with almost the respect he had shown Elandra.
“We ask forgiveness,” he said humbly. “We have been much mistaken today.”
Caelan did not unbend. The admission had cost him. He felt as though his identity was being torn away in strips, peeling him down to something he did not recognize.
Giving Bwend a nod, he asked, “Must the dragons feed before they can fly?”
“No,” Bwend answered. He jerked his head at Fotel. “Tend Basha’s burns quickly.”
Fotel sidled cautiously past Caelan and ran to his dragon, who grumbled and butted his head at the man in greeting.
“I have a request, lord,” Bwend said to Caelan.
Not once, in all his wildest imaginings, had Caelan ever expected to someday hear a savage Thyzarene raider humbly call him lord. It was bitter to think these men had instantly believed him Choven, even when he physically did not resemble those mysterious tribesmen. It only confirmed yet again the truth of what Moah had told him.
“What is your request?” Caelan asked.
Bwend pointed at the dead boy lying in the snow. “That we may bury him from the wolves and lurkers that will come.”
Caelan did not hesitate. “I will help you.”
Chapter Sixteen
As long as she lived, Elandra would never forget the experience of flying over mountains, forests, and marshlands, the clouds melting against her face or lying beneath her like a thick carpet. Swathed in furs against the cold, she soared and plummeted, borne easily on the back of the powerful Nia. Her only regret was that she was not cradled in Caelan’s arms. Instead, she rode with Bwend—carefully respectful, but stinking of too few baths, too much peat smoke, and the greasy lard-based salve that seemed to be the Thyzarene solution for everything from chapped lips to burn treatments.
Caelan rode with Fotel on the bad-tempered Basha. Perhaps the dragon was in pain, or perhaps he did not intend to forget that Caelan had caused his burns. But every morning Fotel had to clamp the dragon’s head between his arm and ribs in order for Caelan to get near the beast, much less climb on. The beast would rear and try to fly without Fotel, snapping at everything within reach of his fangs. At night when they camped in uneasy alliance, Fotel and Basha would move away to be by themselves. Elandra would hear Fotel singing softly in his native tongue to the dragon, cradling the beast’s head in his lap and stroking it gently.
It took three days of steady flying before the air began to feel warm and moist. The clouds were very tall, rising above them like pillars and sometimes massing into thunderheads. Elandra’s woolen cloak was plenty of protection, and she no longer needed the heavy furs that Lea had given her just before they departed.
Thinking of the girl, Elandra smiled involuntarily. Lea was as beautiful as her brother was handsome. Gowned in dark blue that enhanced her eyes, she wore a long overtunic of scarlet cloth embroidered all over with dainty flowers, a fur cloak, and soft red boots. Her golden hair hung unbound down her back to her hips, and her dowry necklace was most impressive with nine large, matched emeralds.
Riding a white pony, Lea had appeared from the forest at the very moment Caelan and Bwend finished burying Kupel. Elandra had been the first person to notice the girl, who rode erect and gracefully like a princess. She drew rein at the edge of the clearing and ventured no closer despite Elandra’s beckoning.
Whether Lea was shy or afraid of the dragons, Elandra did not know. When Caelan did not immediately notice the new arrival, Elandra walked over to speak to her.
“You must be Lea,” Elandra said with a smile, eager to meet her at last. “You look so much like your brother. I am Elandra.”
Lea slid down from the saddle and curtsied to her. “Majesty.”
“No, we are sisters now,” Elandra said, taking her hand to put the girl at her ease. “Do not be formal.”
“You are the empress,” Lea said, keeping her eyes downcast.
“I love your brother very much,