SHANA CROUCHED BESIDE the otter’s pool, her eyes narrowed in concentration. The otter was in his den, but not asleep; that much she could tell just from the “feel” of his mind. She extended a mental hand, delicately, toward him, and imagined herself to be him; felt her limbs shorten, her body lengthen, fur cover her skin…
Her change wasn’t a physical one, as Keman’s would be, but in the mental image of herself. The moment she felt herself to be an otter, and one with him, she made contact with the “thoughts” of the playful beast.
: Warm-sun, warm-water.: The otter contemplated what lay beyond the underwater entrance to his den, rolled over on his back, and scratched his nose. His stomach was full, and he was wide awake; not particularly interested in napping again. The inside of the den was dimly lit by the sunlight filtering through the water and reflecting up into the burrow. .-Sleep-not ,: he decided. :Play-now :
Shana felt him slip into the water before she saw his sleek form shooting across the bottom of the pond.
Whether or not this was what Foster Mother had meant when she told Shana to “become one with the ground squirrel,” Shana didn’t know. Nor did she much care; ever since she had learned to “hear” the thoughts of the tiniest animals, an entire world had opened up to her. This much of her new powers she could share with Keman; her foster brother expected her to learn to sense animal-thoughts, although he himself could not. After all, Alara had been teaching her with an eye to just that development.
And since he wasn’t suspecting anything, he wasn’t surprised by the extent of her ability.
The otter looked up through the water, spotted her on the bank, and shot out of the water to greet her. She amused him by holding pebbles afloat just above the surface, and letting him slap at them. Then she submerged the smooth stones and let him chase them around the pond. It was great fun for both of them, though a little tiring for her. Another lesson learned: working this “magic” was real work, and took a great deal out of her. She could not imagine how Alara managed her work without becoming exhausted.
Shana no longer had to be in a temper to work her brand of magic, she only had to think in a certain way, wanting something so badly that her emotions became involved—though the angrier she became, the stronger her magic was. Emotion definitely played a part, the stronger, the better.
She had discovered another talent, though what use it could be, she had no idea. She could find water, just by being thirsty. She had followed Keman out on one of his explorations, and forgot to take a water flask with her. By midmorning she was half-mad with thirst—and at that point had felt a peculiar tugging at her wrist, as if something had hold of her and was trying to lead her away.
Curious, she had followed where the signal led, and had discovered a patch of the sajus-brush and fir-grass that marked a “seep.” A few moments of digging at the foot of the bushes, and patience, and she had her drink. Once her thirst was satisfied, the “tugging” stopped.
It was an interesting talent, but right now, her ability to move things about was of more use, and a great deal more fun. She’d even managed to get Rovy and Myre quarreling a time or two, by plinking them with small stones and letting each think that the other had been poking him.
And she’d been able to make Rovy think she had taken to the hills when in fact she was hiding near the lair, by making the sounds of someone running up a path on two feet and bringing down showers of gravel from the side of the hill. He’d been completely taken in, enough to follow the path until it narrowed to a point where he couldn’t use it anymore. If he’d been less lazy he could have taken to the rock and climbed, but Shana had judged his temper correctly; it was too much effort to follow her at that point. He was a bully, but he preferred to use a minimum of effort, a characteristic Shana and Keman were able to use to their advantage.
And of course, she was able to have fun with the otter using her magic, and with other small creatures that were both curious and playful. There were night-birds that greatly enjoyed the flocks of moths she called to her, and would circle around her, calling to each other and snatching the moths out of the air. There was also a kind of long-legged runner-bird that would even play “fetch,” provided she did not move.
Shana laughed, and sent the pebbles through loops and dives; she turned the otter back on himself, so that he was chasing a pebble that was chasing his tail. The otter redoubled his efforts to catch the shiny bit of stone, both parties having the times of their lives, and both oblivious to the rest of the world.
Alara raised her head from her foreclaws as a sound like a jayee’s trill sang inside her mind, briefly interrupting her perusal of the weather patterns for many leagues around the Lair.
It came again. She stared down from her cliff-top perch at the Lair, took a moment to focus and identify the source, and dismissed it. The child was playing with the otter. So long as it kept her content, and she was no longer so unhappy about not being of the Kin, what harm could there possibly be?
She put her head back down on her crossed foreclaws, closed her eyes, and went back to her task of weather-calling. The plains where the herds of this Lair roamed were dry and badly in need of a good, soaking rain. Summer had brought no more than half the expected rainfall, and now that fall was here, the rains had dried up altogether. Ordinarily Alara would not have meddled in weather patterns at this time of year other than to call storms for the Thunder Dance, but she had no choice but to act if things were to be returned to normal. She must play with the weather because the elven lords had already done so, twisting the storm-flows out of all resemblance to the normal autumn systems.
Now she must restore them, or else the herds would starve and many animals would die; animals the Lair needed to see it through the winter. And who knew what other problems this interference had caused? She only watched over her Lair’s territory; elsewhere there could be further droughts, or floods, and not all shamans were weather-workers.
At least she could work her will knowing that those who had made the changes would assume some other rival was revoking what they had done.
Of course, to ensure this, she would have to go out of the Lair again, taking the guise of a young elven messenger, and deliver a cleverly worded, anonymous message to the lord responsible for this foolish and careless tampering. That, too, was part of her duty, for all that it took her away from her children. And Myre was being so troublesome…
She would worry about that when the time came. For now, it would be enough to set things aright.
She settled back into her trance, sending her mind into the sky and becoming one with the world around her. She moved from the earth where she lay, to the heavens; reaching out to the winds and the clouds, calling them gently back to the paths they should be taking. And canceling the spells that had sent and held them elsewhere.
Another trill brushed the surface of her mind, but now that she had identified young Shana’s magic-working, it was easy to ignore it.
Mostly. There was always a part of her that was “mother” first and “shaman” second.
Still, she wished the child were a little quieter, with an unoccupied corner of her mind that worried at the strength of the disturbance. She couldn’t help wondering who else could “hear” the child, and if they knew who it was that was making the noise.
She dismissed the thought as it began to intrude on her task. Nothing was going to happen to Shana at the moment. Any dragon with the ability to “hear” her would also be one of the seniors in the Lair, and the seniors would come to the shaman before acting.
Restoring what the elves had twisted was rather like untangling several skeins of madly snarled yarn. Before she had finished, Alara was in something of a temper. There was not just one spell, there were layers upon layers of them, all interacting, some in quite peculiar ways.
Didn’t they ever pay any attention to the consequences before they did something, she thought resentfully. Or did they just wait until disaster hit, then shove things back into place by brute force?
She was beginning to think that the latter was the case, at least for the more powerful lords. The lesser seemed to create muddles like this one; piling spell atop spell until the entire structure collapsed, or warped into something no one intended, with effects that were completely unpredictable.
And then, of course, the powerful mages would have to intervene.
Provided the Kin don’t do so first, she thought, a little smugly.
She set to her task of unraveling and unweaving, determined to do the job properly, which took both time and energy. It took her most of the afternoon to set everything right, and by the time the rains were falling (as they should have been) on the parched grasslands, Alara was famished and short-tempered. She had been up on her retreat all day, and had begun this job fasting; all she wanted at the moment was a nice fat three-horn, or even two. Being hungry made her irritable, and her temper was not improved by finding three of the oldest dragons in the Lair waiting at the stone gazebo when she descended. Two were coiled within the marble edifice; one draped on the wide stone benches that rimmed the inside, and one sprawled on the floor. The third actually sat on the threshold of the entrance to her lair, sunning himself, and so positioned that he was keeping her from entering. She doubted that was an accident.
“Alara!” said the one on the floor, looking oh-so-innocent, which expression Alara did not in the least believe. “We’ve been waiting for you to come down. We knew you’d be hungry, so Anoa killed you a three-horn and left it in your lair.”
“Now, about that two-legged fosterling of yours—” Orolanela began hesitantly, raising her head from the bench at Alara’s approach. “She’s—”
“What?” Alara snapped impatiently, not in the least mollified by the bribe. “I thought we had all agreed after that episode with Rovylern that you all would leave her in peace so long as she didn’t do anything to cause quarrels between the youngsters!”
“I know that, but she’s noisy, shaman,” Anoahalo replied, calmly. “Magic-noisy. You know what I mean. We can hear her, and probably some of the others can, too—they just haven’t figured out who it is that’s making the disturbance.” She stretched, flexing her claws against the rough rock of the cave entrance. “Since most of them consider her an animal, they probably won’t ever make the connection—but you never know. And if they find out she has magic—well, I can’t say what they might or might not think. Or do. Especially Lori.”
Alara sighed, and wished she had hands to rub her aching head. Instead, she massaged her temple with a knuckle, hoping to ease the pain. “Is she bothering you?” she asked finally. “I really could care less what Lori says or does, so long as you seniors aren’t being bothered.”
“Well, no, not really,” the third, Keokeshala, said lazily, from his position on the floor of the gazebo. He yawned delicately, and smiled. “Interesting effect, that trill. She’s actually rather nice to listen to, if you like birds. It’s not that she’s annoying, it’s that she’s doing it at all. This wasn’t something we even thought about when we told you we’d leave her alone. What we want to know is, what do you intend to do about her?”
“I don’t intend to do anything about her, at least not at the moment,” Alara said flatly, coiling up around a sun-warmed rock and spreading her wings to the last evening rays. “I think she’s doing very well as she is. She isn’t hurting anything, she’s staying out of trouble, and these little tricks of hers keep her amused. What did you want me to do about her?”
Keoke laughed, and his smile broadened. “Not a thing, actually, at the moment. It’s rather fun to watch her learning what she can do, and leading Rovylern a merry chase. She’s awfully bright, you know. You might take her for Kin if you didn’t know any better.”
Anoa coughed politely, and shook her head, her spinal crest half-raised. “Well, I won’t go that far,” she said doubtfully, “but I do say she has a lot of potential. The fact is, Alara, we’ve been thinking. All this time we’ve been playing with this Prophecy, but it’s occurred to us that your little fosterling could well be the Elvenbane. I mean, we could make her the Elvenbane with a little nudging in the right direction. She’s got all the right credentials, so to speak. If she ever finds out what she is, and about her mother and father, she’s likely to be a little handful for you. I’d be willing to bet that you’d have a time keeping her here.”
Orola chuckled, and stretched her neck up to look Alara straight in the face. “We might as well stop dancing around the bush. Actually, we thought we would like you to tell her about her mother and father; about the elven lords and the humans, and everything else. To tell you the truth, Alara, once we realized she was working magic, it seemed to us that there was an opportunity here too good to be wasted. We’d like to turn her loose in their world and see what she can do.”
Keoke rolled his eyes and grinned, his tail twitching a little. “She ought to create a marvelous amount of havoc before she’s caught,” he said in a satisfied voice. “And if one of us went along to keep an eye on her, we could make sure she either got loose again, or simply couldn’t tell the elven lords anything about us.”
Keoke’s matter-of-fact tone of voice made Alara’s blood chill. She knew very well what he meant. If—no, when —Shana was caught, one of them would see to it that she died before revealing the secrets of the dragons. They just want to use her, as if she were a two-horn to be petted then eaten at will, or a tool to be wielded until it breaks .
“I think that’s a bit much, Keoke,” Orola objected mildly, lowering her lids over her eyes. “It’s a child, after all. Not Kin, but it hasn’t done us any harm, and it might provide us with a lot of entertainment if we take very good care of it.” She turned to Alara. “I agree, we should turn it loose among the elves, but I think we should assure its safety. There is a certain amount of honor involved here; we’ve taken on the child, we really are somewhat responsible for its safety. Just letting it go charging into danger is—distasteful.” Orola curled her tongue a little, as if she had bitten into something bitter. “It’s like—oh—eating one of your Keman’s pets. You don’t bring up something to trust you, then betray it.”
“Hmm.” Keoke tilted his head to one side, considering her words. “True. That smacks of something Lori might do—and we all know Lori’s irresponsible.”
Orola nodded, while Alara held her temper firmly in check, and kept up a serene exterior. “If nothing else,” Orola continued, “we have no idea how long these halfbreeds live. If it has a lifespan even half that of elves, and keeps learning all the time, it could probably think up any number of clever tricks to work on them. And it would have all the motivation in the world to do so.”
Alara resented Orola’s categorization of Shana as an “it,” but at least Orola had some notion of honor, even if it was only the kind of protection owed to a pet. She wasn’t planning to throw the child out into the world with no defenses, and kill Shana when the child was caught. Keoke, on the other hand, seemed a bit more cynical about it all, probably considered Shana’s welfare purely in terms of her entertainment value, and might still be able to convince the other two to come around to his point of view. Unless she could change Keoke’s mind instead.
Alara took a deep, calming breath, and began to plan, her mind working as quickly as ever it did in the Thunder Dance. She had to make them see Shana as a person, even Orola, and convince them all that Shana was worth the kind of protection she’d get if she were Kin. It occurred to her that the best way to do that was to convince them that Shana was a very valuable little girl.
“She’s still a child,” Alara reminded them all, taking care to sound calm and noncommittal. She pulled her wings in, and rested her chin against the stone railing of the gazebo. “She hasn’t even begun to come into her powers yet. Of all of us, only Father Dragon knows what the halfbreeds are capable of, and I doubt he knows everything. It’s hard to say what she can or can’t do—we just don’t know. I think she could be more important to us than she appears right now.”
“That alone is entertaining enough,” Anoa admitted, scratching at a loosening patch of skin thoughtfully. “Watching her figure out what else she can do is like opening a puzzle-box. You never know what’s coming next. I had no idea she’d be able to reach the minds of moths—nor that runner-birds could play. I don’t think we ought to turn her loose on the world anytime soon. I’d hate to miss what happens as she discovers more of her abilities, and I don’t think we’ve come to the bottom of the bag yet.”
“True enough,” Keoke acknowledged with a nod. “All right, I suppose we should keep her around until she’s a bit more seasoned. Adult size, even.” He turned to Alara, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the gathering dusk. “But then what? You surely don’t intend her to stay in the Lair for the rest of her life, do you, Alara? I think that’s a bit cruel, like caging a falcon.”
“I—hadn’t really thought about it,” Alara admitted reluctantly. She didn’t like to think of any of her children growing up and wanting to leave. Shana was as much her child as Keman was. With the way she soaked up Alara’s teaching, she was more Alara’s child than Myre.
“Turn it loose, I say,” urged Orola, her scales rasping on the stone of the bench as she stirred restlessly. “Let it know what its heritage is as soon as it’s adult, take it to see what’s going on out there, and give it a chance to raise a bit of trouble. Be ready to whisk it out of danger, but let it run for a bit. You don’t help a young thing by keeping it from its first kill, Alara.”
“I really do think that Shana could be more important—to us, to the Kin as a whole—than that,” Alara replied carefully. “There’s something about her that’s extraordinary, something I can’t quite pin down. Remember what Father Dragon said when I first brought her to the Lair?”
“That she had great hamenleai ,” Anoa said, after a moment’s thought. “I’d forgotten that.” The senior dragon’s eyes caught the light of the rising moon and glowed a soft silver. “You could be right; I had forgotten that.”
“I hadn’t,” Alara retorted, feeling as if she had finally gotten the high spot in the thermal in this discussion. “I’ve kept it in mind all the time I’ve been raising her. She’s too important to be used for nothing more than a bit of amusement. Keoke, you said it yourself—she fits the Prophecy of the Elvenbane. Now, what if this Prophecy we’ve been spreading all these years is right ! What if all we’ve done has been to keep something going that was actually a true reading of the future? And what if Shana is the Elvenbane? Don’t you see what an incredible change that would make in the whole world?”
All three of them stirred restlessly; Alara sensed emotions rising around her. She’d awakened them to Shana’s potential; now if they would only see her value as well—
“I can see something else, Alara,” Orola whispered, her eyes wide with surprise and unease. She chewed on the end of one of her talons, something she only did when nervous. “And I don’t know if you’ve considered this. You’re right, we don’t know what it can do—and if it’s the object of a true foretelling, we don’t know what it could turn out to be like, the kinds of powers it would have, or the way it would look at things. The Elvenbane of the Prophecy doesn’t sound like a very pleasant creature, after all. I can see where it could be a real danger to us , and not just by betraying us to the elves. We have no idea what its powers could do to us, or how strong they could be.”
Alara’s heart sank. She had hoped that particular possibility would not occur to them.
“In other words,” Keoke spoke into the silence that followed, “she might not only be the Elvenbane, she could become a dragon bane. She could wreak havoc on us before she ever sees her real people.”
She had to head this off before they really talked themselves into getting rid of the child. “First of all, it’s only a supposition that she is the Elvenbane. You’re all forgetting that. Second, even if she is, those very problems are exactly what I’ve been trying to prevent!” Alara exclaimed, allowing her exasperation to show. “If I raise her with us, as one of ours, and make her feel part of the Kin—then she’ll never turn her powers against the Kin as a whole. I won’t speak for what she might do to individuals, though—if I were in her skin, with Rovy bullying me, I’d probably rip his head and tail off and exchange them if I found I could.”
A further silence followed, and Alara could feel passions ebbing as the other three calmed.
Keoke nodded slowly. “Makes sense,” he admitted. “Raise a louper on a two-horn, it thinks it’s a two-horn. And—I must agree with you that Rovy is a problem unto himself.”
Alara caught herself before she snorted with contempt. That was not the way to win the others over to her side. “There’s more to it than that,” she said, as reasonably as she could. “I’m trying to teach her that we’re basically very like each other, her kind and ours. I’m trying to make her see herself as part of something, instead of estranged from it. I’m trying to show her what being part of the Kin and the world is all about, so that when she makes changes, she thinks about the consequences of those changes first. I hope that by the time I’m finished with her, she won’t ever do anything that would adversely affect the Kin, no matter how trivial it may be. I love change as much as any of you, but I want it to be beneficial. And I want it under our control.”
All three heads nodded; none of them needed to be reminded about what uncontrolled change could do. “I don’t think there’s any doubt that she is going to make changes,” Keoke said at last. “But if we can control the direction of the changes—”
His eyes grew thoughtful, and a pleased expression crept over his face. “I can’t help thinking what she could do to keep the elven lords out of mischief. All they have to do is suspect she exists, and they’ll be chasing shadows at every turn!”
“She’d be a better agent among the humans than any of us could ever be,” Alara reminded him. “Think of what she could accomplish!” She voiced a possibility she had only begun to explore, figuring it was worth placing before them. “She might even be able to awaken the powers of those humans who have magic, but are not aware of it. Then think what the elven lords would have to contend with.”
Orola nodded, very slowly. “But we have to make sure its powers are never turned against us. Alara, you’re going to have to watch this creature as carefully as you fly the Thunder Dance. The potential for change is too great to dismiss, but there’s danger in this creature, danger for us.”
“I am watching her, Orola,” Alara reminded her tartly. “Haven’t I just said as much? I know the risks as well as you do. But I also know the rewards, and I think they’re worth the risks.”
“I agree,” Keoke said decisively. “And you’re one of the best shamans in the Kin. If anyone can keep her from getting out of hand, you can.”
“Thank you, Keoke,” Alara said, so surprised she hardly knew what to say. Praise did not often fall from Keoke’s lips. “You know I always do my best for the Kin.”
Keoke heaved himself to his feet, and the other two followed his lead. “Just keep an eye on the child, Alara,” he said. “Make sure she will never get a chance to turn on us. That’s all. If you’ll do that, we’ll keep the rest off the glide path and out of your thermals.”
Alara sighed, and bowed her head thankfully. “That’s all I’ve ever asked,” she replied. “Thank you.”
Keoke considered the night sky, then abruptly heaved himself into the air, his huge wings spreading with a snap to catch a rising breeze. “You’re welcome,” he called, as Orola and Anoa strolled back towards their lairs, leaving Alara standing before hers alone. “Just don’t make a fool out of me.”
I’ll be trying just as hard not to make a fool out of myself, she thought wryly, and she waved him farewell before descending into the lair and looking for the three-horn she could smell just inside. Despite her own self-doubt and worries, her mouth watered.
But hunger could not keep her from other thoughts. Keoke, my friend, I have a great deal more to lose. My reputation, my self-respect —
— my children. Especially the one with only two legs.
Shana lay in the shadow of a huge boulder, so quiet that a tiny lizard ran over her leg and paused to sun itself on her thigh, as if she were nothing more than a particularly soft rock. She didn’t even twitch. She had just discovered something strange and wonderful, a new way to look at things, and if she was spotted now by the dragons she was watching, it would ruin a very rare chance to put what she had learned into practice.
Below her, three of the young dragons—dragonets no longer; they were quickly reaching adult size—were practicing shape-shifting.
Now there was nothing new about that; Shana had watched Keman shifting his form hundreds of times over the past five years. But she rarely got a chance to see any of the other dragons at the exercise, and she wanted badly to learn if what she had found today, watching Keman, was peculiar only to him, or could be used to spot any dragon in a shifted form.
If it could, she would never again have to worry about Myre or Rovy sneaking up on her in the guise of a two-horn or something equally innocuous. Or worse yet, lying in wait for her in the guise of a rock.
She unfocused her gaze and relaxed the same way she did when she was about to enter a trance, but she kept her eyes open. Then, while the youngster immediately below her was still in his shifted two-legger form, she looked slightly to one side of him.
Sure enough, in a strange way that was both seeing and not-seeing , she found him surrounded by a kind of rainbow shadow-dragon, a shadow that she could only see out of the corner of her eye.
It was as if she could see into the Out, she thought wonderingly. As if she could see where the rest of him had gone.
Keman had told her that when a dragon size-shifted, he threw most of himself into something they called the Out. It was hard work, and required quite a bit of concentration. Not all dragons were equally proficient; Rovy, for instance, couldn’t manage anything much below half his size.
Which was going to make it awfully hard for him to shift into anything practical once he was a full adult, Shana thought, snickering. Or if he lived long enough to get as big as Father Dragon, he was never going to be able to shift to anything but a small hill. She doubted that anybody would believe in a two-horn the size of a long-nose.
The youngsters beneath her, though, were quite good for their age, and fully capable of shifting to the two variations of two-legger form. The adults were very insistent that the youngsters keep the two kinds separate—not that Shana could see there was a great deal of difference between the two. One kind was a little taller, a little thinner. Their coloring was consistent—very white skin, pale gold hair, green eyes. The others tended to come in several colors, none of them quite so bleached-out. The first forms made Shana think of a cave-spider she’d seen, an unusually old and large one. The pale forms had the same attenuated limbs, the same washed-out look, the same languid menace.
Well, it didn’t much matter. Shana had never seen anything but a dragon wearing those forms anyway. They were useful for jobs that needed hands, or for things that required a smaller body than a dragon’s.
She wondered wistfully where she came from. Maybe my real mother and I were two of the last — like the one-horns, dying out. Alara still had not had a great deal to say about Shana’s birth or her kind. She always told Shana that she would find out “when she was ready.”
So when would Shana be ready? Alara wouldn’t tell her that.
Stewing away on the old question made her forget what she was trying to do. Even as she lost her concentration, the shadow-dragon faded away, and everything looked perfectly normal again.
Fewmets. She tried to get it back, but it was no use. Now all she could see down there were three young two-leggers, with two-legger shadows on the ground at their feet, and not even a hint of spectral dragon-shapes hovering behind them.
Oh, fewmets. She stirred a little, and the lizard scampered off her leg and into a crevice, its tiny mind full of alarm. It takes too much concentration; it isn’t worth it , she decided. She was better off “listening” for Rovy and Myre, and catching them when they had shifted that way. They couldn’t hide what they were thinking. Not from Shana, anyway. Keman couldn’t hear them—but he couldn’t hear most animals, either.
It occurred to her then to wonder where Keman was. He was supposed to be joining this group about now, as soon as his lessons with Alara were over.
Suddenly, she—and the young dragons below her—doubled up with a hammer-blow of phantom pain, followed by a cry of mind-sent anguish.
Keman! Even in a wordless mental shriek, she felt his personality. Even as she recognized him, she heard him scream again in pain—this time in a very vocal shriek that rang across the hills.
The group of startled youngsters below her “popped” back into dragon-form as they lost their concentration, but Shana had no thoughts or energy to waste on them. She was up and running across the ridge as fast as her paltry two legs would carry her.
At first, all she could see as she topped the ridge was Rovylern at the bottom of the cut below, wings mantling, tail lashing, neck curled as he looked down at something. Then she realized what he was looking down at, as another shriek come up from underneath him and echoed from the rocks. Rovy had Keman pinned beneath him, foreclaws clamped in the thin and sensitive skin where Keman’s forelegs and wings joined the body. Shana had to block the waves of pain coming from him; she couldn’t imagine how anyone could feel that agony and choose to ignore it.
“Say it, lizard!” Rovy hissed down at his victim, his eyes narrowed in satisfaction, spinal crest high, teeth bared in a feral grin of pleasure. “Say it! Call me Master! Say, TU do anything you want, Great
Rovylern!’ Do it, or I’ll make you think I’ve just been playing with you!”
“Go stuff your tail up your—” The rest of the insult was drowned in a howl of pain as Rovy tightened his clawhold. Keman had no intention of surrendering and submitting to Rovy, but those intentions couldn’t last much longer.
I’ll kill him! I’ll peel his scales off! Shana couldn’t even frame coherent thoughts after the first glimpse—anger boiled up in her, and everything narrowed to her target.
A terrible, molten pressure rose in her chest, her eyes misted with a red haze, and she heard herself growling like an enraged louper.
Keman screamed, and the power exploded from her. Three rocks the size of her head erupted from the ground beside her where they lay half-buried, and launched themselves at the bully, hurtling down at him in the blink of an eye.
Shana maintained just enough sanity and control that they did not target his head; instead, all three thudded into Rovy’s midsection below the spine and just past the ribs.
They caught him off-balance when they hit him, hurling him off Keman’s back with the force of their blows, knocking the breath out of him.
He landed on his side, flailing wildly, and barely able to squeak. He beat the air with his free wing as Keman scrambled to his feet, and Shana slid down the side of the ridge in a shower of sand and stones to land beside her foster brother.
She was still white-hot with anger, and the bloody marks of Rovy’s talons on Keman’s hide did nothing to assuage that anger. Rovy clambered to his feet, staring at both of them in blank astonishment, too surprised even to move.
But Shana was not too surprised to act. She had only begun her assault. Everything Rovy had done to her or Keman burned in her memory, and she was quite prepared to take revenge for all of it.
“Bully!” she shouted, using her power to throw fist-sized rocks at his head, so he had to duck and dance to avoid them. “Coward! Fewmet! You’re a throwback, Rovy! You’re nothing but a big, dumb lizard! Pea-brain! Sneak! Sparrow-heart! Rat-face! Tail-chaser!”
Rovy’s antics as he danced about trying to avoid the hail of flying rocks were truly amazing. But Shana was faster than he was. Finally he didn’t duck quickly enough, and one of the stones caught him right above the eye, making him howl with pain.
“You like that?” Shana screamed, hurling a dozen stones at once, as Rovy backed up against the hillside and she followed, giving him no chance to escape. “I’ve got more where that came from! Try picking on someone your own size, Rovy, you fewmet! You big bully, I’ll show you how it feels to get picked on! I’ll beat you black and purple! I’ll—”
“Shana!”
Shana had been concentrating so hard on Rovy that she had ignored everything else, and the voice seemed to come out of nowhere, startling her so that the last few rocks dropped in midflight. A large claw clamped down on Shana’s shoulder—too large to be Keman’s.
Broken out of her fit of rage, she looked up, into Alara’s frightened face.
But behind Alara every dragon in the Lair was either winging in or scrambling over the ridge.
Foremost of those was Lori, Rovy’s mother, who landed beside her abused offspring and covered him protectively with her wings, craning her head around with the most vicious expression on her face that Shana had ever seen. Her eyes were wide with rage, her spinal crest bristling, and her teeth bared clear to the back of her jaw.
“There, you see!” she shrilled at the top of her lungs.
“You see! I told you all, and you wouldn’t listen! That thing is dangerous, it’s rabid, it can’t be trusted!”
“Now wait just a moment, Lori,” Keoke began, interposing his body between her and Shana, when it looked as if she was about to lunge for the girl.
“No!” she screamed, her eyes red with a rage as great as Shana’s had been. “No more waiting! It’s too dangerous to live! Kill it! Kill it now!”