Only hours? Not even a day or two?
Since I’ll need to depart to offer my services as a father to Wreylith, there won’t be time for extended mourning. Hatchlings are born, and life goes on.
You’ll be a good father.
If she’ll let me be involved, certainly.
As Vorik climbed the trail leading toward the top of the bluff, his instincts told him that he was being watched, even though he didn’t see or sense anyone. Nerves wrestled in his belly. The animal path that led along the forested top of the bluff was quiet,save for the distant shrieking of a crying godbird and the nearby chattering of a fanged squirrel.
When he turned off the trail and toward the well-hidden cave, Vorik didn’t see anyone perched atop it—a customary watch station—but he continued to feel that someone was observing him. That wasn’t surprising, but something hinted of danger. His instincts knew it, and he had to fight away the urge to draw his sword. Instead, he kept his free hand out to the side, away from his weapons. He might be in danger, but he would not approach as an enemy.
I was not permitted to name any of the offspring from the last clutch I sired,Agrevlari said.Perhaps Wreylith will be open to my input on the matter. At least for male hatchlings. Females always think males are inferior, anyway.
We both know that’s not true.Outside the cave, Vorik eyed the branches overhead and gazed at ferns and brambles growing between the densely packed trees. He could hear voices inside, but someone was out here with him. Certain of it, he set the sack of food aside.
Of course,Agrevlari said,but female dragons have high opinions of themselves.
Deservedly so. You’ve a high opinion of Wreylith too.
She is magnificent. I have not contemplated names for some time. I will consider what might be appropriate. Unless you’ve some ideas from the many ballads you’ve memorized.
Can we save this discussion for later? I’m approaching my camp.In addition to hearing voices, Vorik was close enough to the cave entrance to sense people with power inside. Riders bonded to their dragons. Chieftess Shi was present as well as a few chiefs and chieftesses that he recognized but hadn’t seen for a while. Presumably, they’d arrived early for the meeting of the tribes.
At Vorik’s request, Agrevlari fell silent but only for a moment before adding,See if your people have any suggestions for male dragon names.
I’m certain that’s the first topic they’ll want to discuss with me.
Vorik was in the middle of rolling his eyes when his instincts shouted for him to get out of the way. Glimpsing movement above and to the right, he rolled left, somersaulting through the ferns. He drew his dagger instead of his sword and came up, spinning back toward the path.
A young stormer rider sprang toward him with a dagger of his own. Vorik dodged three rapid slashes before he identified his foe.
“Warrim,” he blurted, reluctant to counterattack.
But the twenty-year-old warrior was relentless, leaping over ferns and logs to try to cut Vorik down. “Traitor!”
“Yes. I came to discuss that. Give me a chance.”
Warrim leaped, feinted at Vorik’s face, and stabbed for his heart. But Vorik had recovered from the initial surprise and was fast enough to dodge the attacks. Though talented, his foe wasn’t enhanced by a dragon bond.
“You tried to kill the general!” Warrim swiped again, frustration more than cunning guiding his movements. “And everything was ruined because of you. Dragons died. Riders died.Yivonnadied!”
As Vorik dodged a swipe for his throat, he recalled that was a female rider in a tribe Wingborn met with regularly.
Vorik shook his head. “I’m sorry, Warrim, but I’m not the reason everyone died. I want to explain and propose a future in which?—”
Another flurry of attacks forced him to break off. This wasnotthe way to have a rational conversation.
The next time Warrim surged forward, slashing toward Vorik’s neck, Vorik dodged but also sprang toward the younger man. He bowled into Warrim before he could draw his arm back for another attack. Warrim didn’t give up. As he stumbled backward into the ferns, he jerked his arm in, trying to angle his dagger to stab Vorik.
Vorik caught him by the wrist and squeezed. Warrim gritted his teeth, struggling not to let go, but when Vorik applied more pressure, the young rider ultimately gasped and released the dagger.
Vorik grabbed the weapon, hoisted Warrim to his feet, and noticed that one of the people he’d sensed in the cave had come out.
Jhiton leaned against the side of the rock entrance, his bronze skin unusually pale with pain pinching the corners of his eyes. It hadn’t been thatlong since Vorik had delivered what he’d believed had been a fatal wound, so it was more surprising that Jhiton was upright than that a hint of pain showed on his face. He wore his twin long swords in their customary sheaths but hadn’t drawn them, and he showed little expression as he gazed at Vorik.
Vorik released Warrim and stood with his hands out. Tense, he waited for his brother to rail at him, to snarl in disgust, to complain about the betrayal, and to accuse him of… all that Vorik deserved to be accused of. Warrim looked back and forth between them, then scooted out of the way.
All Jhiton said was, “Come inside, Vorik. Tell us about this future you propose.”
