Dragon Haven

  As they got closer to the trees, his heart sank. The river had expanded its flow; there was no shore under the eaves of the forest, not even a muddy one. There was only the impenetrable line of trees, their trunks like the bars of a cage that would hold Relpda out in the river. In the shadow of the canopy, the pale water was a quiet lake without shores that spread off into the darkness.

  Only one section of shore offered him hope. In an alcove of the surrounding trees, limbs and logs and branches had been packed together by a back current. All sorts of broken tree limbs and bits of driftwood and even substantial timbers had piled up there in a floating logjam. It didn’t look promising. But once he was there, he could climb out of the water and perhaps dry off before nightfall.

  That was as much as he could offer himself. No hot food and comforting drink, no dry, clean change of clothing, not even a rude pallet on which to lie down; nothing awaited him there but the bare edge of survival.

  And even less for the dragon, he suspected. Whereas the wedged logs and matted driftwood might offer him a place to stand, she had no such hope. She swam with all her energy now, but it would avail her nothing. No hope for her and very little for him.

  Not save me?

  “We’ll try. I don’t know how, but we’ll try. ”

  For an extended moment, he felt her absence from his mind. He became aware of how his skin stung, how her teeth dug into him. His aching muscles shrieked at him, and cold both numbed and burned him. Then she came back, bringing her warmth and pushing his misery aside.

  Can save you, she announced.

  Affection he could feel enfolded him. Why? he wondered. Why did she care about him?

  Less lonely. You make sense of world. Talk to me. Her warmth wrapped him.

  Sedric drew breath. All his life, he’d been aware that people loved him. His parents loved him. Hest had loved him, he thought. Alise did. He’d known of love and accepted that it existed for him. But never before had he actually felt love as a physical sensation that emanated from another creature and warmed and comforted him. It was incredible. A slow thought came to him.

  Can you feel it when I care about you?

  Sometimes. Her reply was guarded. I know it’s not real, sometimes. But kind words, pretty words, feel good even if not real. Like remembering food when hungry.

  Sudden shame flooded him. He took a slow breath and opened his gratitude to her. He let his thanks flow out of him, that she forgave him for taking her blood, that she had saved him, that she would continue to struggle on his behalf when he could not offer her definite hope of sanctuary.

  As if he had poured oil on a fire, her warmth and regard for him grew. He actually felt his body physically warm, and suddenly her dogged one-two, one-two paddling grew stronger. Together they just might survive. Both of them.

  For the first time in many years, he closed his eyes and breathed a heartfelt prayer to Sa.

  “TAKE YOUR FOOD and get up there. Keep looking,” Leftrin told Davvie. “I want you up on top of the deckhouse, scanning in all directions. Look on the water, look for anyone clinging to debris, look at the trees and up in the trees. Keep looking. And keep blowing that horn. Three long blasts and then stop and listen. Then three long blasts again. ”

  “Yessir,” Davvie said faintly.

  “You can do it,” Carson said behind him. He gave the exhausted boy a pat on the shoulder that was half a push. The boy snatched up two rounds of ship’s bread and his mug of tea and left the deckhouse.

  “He’s a good lad. I know he’s tired,” Leftrin said. It was half apology for treating the boy so gruffly and half thanks for being able to use him.

  “He wants to find them as much as anyone else here. He’ll keep going as long as he can. ” Carson hesitated, then plunged on with, “What about Tarman? Can he help us with the search?”

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  He meant well, Leftrin reminded himself. Nonetheless. He was an old friend, not part of the crew. Some things weren’t spoken of outside that family, not even to old friends. “We’re using the barge in every possible way, Carson, short of having it sprout wings and fly over the river. What can you expect of a ship?”

  “Of course. ” Carson bobbed a nod that he understood and would ask no more. His deference bothered Leftrin almost as much as his question had. He knew he was short-tempered; grief tore at his heart even as he clutched at hope and kept desperately searching. Alise. Alise, my darling. Why did we hold back, if only to lose each other this way?

  It wasn’t just the woman, though Sa knew that overwhelmed him and ruined his brain for cold logic. All the youngsters, every one of them was missing. Every dragon, gone. And Sedric. If he found Alise but had to tell her he had lost Sedric, what would she think of him? And all the dragons gone, and her dreams gone with them. He knew how she felt about the dragons and the keepers. He had failed her, utterly failed her. There could be no good end to this search. None at all.

  “Leftrin!”

  He startled at his name and saw by Carson’s face that he’d been trying to talk to him. “Sorry. Too long with no sleep,” he said gruffly.

  The hunter nodded sympathetically and rubbed at his own bloodshot eyes. “I know. We’re all tired. We’re damn lucky that tired is all we are. You’re a bit beat up, and Eider may have a few cracked ribs, but by and large, we came through it intact. And we all know that we’ll rest later. For right now, this is what I propose. My boat stayed with the Tarman; luckily I’ve the habit of bringing it aboard and lashing it down each night. I propose I take the spare ship’s horn and set out on my own. I’ll shoot down the river a ways, fast as I can, and then go right along the shore and search under the trees. You follow, but taking your time and searching carefully. Every so often, I’ll blow three long blasts, just like Davvie, to let you know where I am and that I’m still searching. If either of us finds anything, we’ll use three short blasts to call the other. ”

  Leftrin listened grimly. He knew what Carson was implying. Bodies. He’d be looking for bodies, and for survivors in such poor condition that they could not signal their rescuers. It made sense. Tarman had been proceeding very slowly, first moving up the river to approximately where the wave had first struck them and then back down again, searching both the river’s face and the shoreline. Carson’s little boat could catch the current and shoot swiftly down to where they had begun to search and move downriver from there, searching the shallows.

  “Do you need anyone with you?”

  Carson shook his head. “I’d rather leave Davvie safe here with you. And I’ll go alone. If I find anyone, the boat’s small, and I’ll want to bring them on board right away. ”

  “Three short blasts will mean we’ve found something. Even if it’s only a body?”

  Carson thought, then shook his head. “Neither of us can do anything for a body. No sense one of us summoning the other and taking a chance on missing a survivor. I’ll want some oil and one of the big cookpots. If we don’t meet up before nightfall, I’ll pull in, make a fire in the pot, and overnight there. The fire will keep me warm and serve as a beacon to anyone who might see it. And if I find someone near nightfall, I can use the horn and the firepot to guide you to us. ”

  Leftrin nodded. “Take a good supply of rations and water. If you find anyone, they may be in bad shape. You’ll need them. ”

  “I know. ”

  “Good luck, then. ”

  “Sa’s blessing on you. ”

  Such words coming from the hunter made Leftrin feel even grimmer. “Sa’s blessing,” he replied and watched the man turn and go. “Please, please, find her,” he whispered, and then he went back up on deck to put his own eyes on the river.

  As he joined his crew on the deck, he felt their sympathy for him. Swarge, Bellin, Hennesey, and hulking Eider were silent and looked aside from him, as if ashamed they could not give him what he wanted. Skelly came to his side and took his hand. He gl
anced down at her, seeing his niece for a moment instead of his deckhand when she met his gaze. She gave his rough hand a small squeeze; her pinched mouth and a quick nod of her head let him know that she shared his concern. With no more than that, she left him and went back to her watching post. They are a good crew, he thought with a tight throat. Without a quibble, they had followed him on this jaunt up the river into unknown territory. Part of it was because that was the type of river folk they were: curious, adventurous, and confident of their skills. But a good part of it was that they would go where he and Tarman went. He commanded their lives. Sometimes that knowledge humbled him.

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  He wondered why he had bothered being evasive with Carson. The man was no fool. The crew’s charade would not have fooled him for long. He knew the boat was sentient, and if he’d had any doubts, Tarman’s rescue of Leftrin last night would have dispersed them. When he’d shouted, the barge had come straight to him, and despite the current, had held himself steady in the river until his captain was safe aboard him again.

  Wrapped in a blanket but still dripping, shivering, he’d gone into the galley. “Is Alise all right?” he’d demanded, and the faces of his crew had told him all.

  He hadn’t slept since then. And he wouldn’t sleep until he found her.

  THE TANGLE OF floating debris was both too thick and not solid enough.

  Relpda had carried Sedric to it. Once she had got close to it, she had pushed her way into it like a spoon pushing through thick soup. Driftwood and matted brambles, leafy branches and long, dead logs, freshly torn trees and wads of grasses had given way to her shoving and then closed up behind her. Chesting against the mess, she had either judged it solid or close enough, for she had dropped him. He’d fallen from her jaws athwart a couple of floating logs and started to slip between them. His stiff limbs had screamed as he frantically moved them, thrashing and crawling until he was on the larger and thicker of the logs. There he had clung, and he felt how it bobbed in the current. Worse, he felt how it shifted and threatened to break away from the tangled mess along the shoreline as the frantic dragon pawed and bumped at it as she attempted to clamber on top of it.

  “It won’t hold you, Relpda. Stop. Stop tearing it apart. You can’t get on top of this; it’s just floating bits of wood and reeds. ” He moved away from her to a part of the raft that her struggles were not affecting so violently. He could feel her rising panic coupled with her weariness and despair. She was tired, and he knew guiltily that if she had abandoned him, her reserves of strength would have been much greater. He wondered again why she had saved him at obvious cost to herself.

  Then he wondered why he was doing nothing to save her.

  There was a quick and guilty answer to that. Once she had drowned, she’d be out of his head forever. He’d know his thoughts were completely his own again. When he went back to Bingtown, he could live just as he always had and—

  He thrust his selfishness aside. He was never going back to Bingtown. He was on a raft of debris over an acidic river. He inspected his stinging arms; the exposed skin looked like cured meat. No telling what the rest of him looked like and he was too cowardly to look. A shudder of chill ran over him. He hugged himself and tried to consider the incomprehensible situation he found himself in. Everything he had depended on in this savage place was gone. No ship, no crewmen, no hunters. No supplies of any kind. Alise was probably already dead, her body floating in the river somewhere. Sorrow smote him; he tried to push it aside. He had to clear his mind, or he’d join her.

  What was he going to do? He had no tools, no fire, no shelter, no food, and no knowledge of how to get any of that for himself. He looked at the copper. He’d told her the truth. He had no idea of how he could save her. If the dragon died, the river would wash her away, and then he would die, too. Probably slowly. And alone. With no way to move up or down the river.

  Right now, the dragon represented his only chance at getting out of here. She was his only ally. She’d risked her life for him. And asked so little of him in return.

  Relpda gave a short trumpet, and he looked back at her. She’d pushed her way deeper into the floating wreckage. She’d hooked one of her forelegs over the end of a substantial log and was struggling to lift her other front leg over, but she was at the narrow end of the long, dead tree. As she put her weight on it, the log bobbed under. The log was threatening to slip out from under her and shoot up into the air. And the danger was great that she would sink beneath the floating debris.

  “Relpda, wait. You need to center yourself on the log. Wait. I’m coming. ” He stared at her situation, trying to think how to remedy it. Sinking dragon, floating wood. He wondered if his weight on the high end of the log would be enough to hold it down while she put the other leg over.

  She didn’t listen to him, of course. She kept giving small hoots of effort while trying to hook her other front leg over the log. Her struggles were tearing at the matted debris. Pieces of it were breaking free from the outer edge and whirling back out into the river’s current.

  He tried again, focused himself at her. “Beauteous one, you must allow me to help you. Be still for a moment. Be still. Let me weight the log down for you. I’m coming now, lovely creature, queen of queens. I am here to serve you. You must not tear the packed wood apart. It might carry you away from me, down the river. Be as still as you can while I think of what to do. ”

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  He felt a touch of warmth and then a tiny message. Serve me? He felt her relaxing her struggles. It was pitiful, how quickly she put her belief in him. His wet clothes clung and chafed his red skin as he awkwardly moved from log to wedged driftwood to log. None of it was stable, and often he had but a moment to find his next step as his perch sank under him. But he reached the tangled roots of her log and seized hold of them. The log was long enough and he was far enough away from her that he thought his small weight might lever her greater one. He started to climb up on the root mass, to see if her end would rise. Then he realized his error. He needed to lower her end of the log to get it under her, not raise it. He suddenly wished he had more experience with this sort of thing. He’d never been a man who worked with his hands and back, and he’d taken pride in that. His mind and his manners had earned him his keep. But if he didn’t learn, right now, how to help, then his dragon was going to die.

  “Relpda, my glorious copper queen. Be very still. I am going to try to lift my end and shove the log under your chest. When it comes up, it may lift you a bit. ”

  His scheme worked poorly. Whenever he tried to lift the floating end of the log, whatever he was standing on sank. Once he nearly lost his balance and fell under the floating tangle. He succeeded in moving the log slightly more under her chest, but when he gave up the task, her position was only marginally better than it had been. When she stopped kicking, she sank, but her back and head remained above the water. She fixed her eyes on him. He looked into them. Spinning pools, dark blue against copper. The colors in them were liquid. It reminded him of the shifting colors of her blood in the glass vial. Guilt stabbed him. How had he ever done such a monstrous thing?

  Tired, she mooed at him. The sound beat against his ears, and the sensation of her exhaustion flooded his mind, weakening his knees. He braced himself against it, and he tried to send warmth and encouragement back to her.

  “I know, my queen, my lovely one. But you must not give up. I’m doing my best, and I will help you. ” His weary mind weighed and discarded options. Push smaller pieces of wood under her. No. They’d simply dislodge. Or he’d fall in.

  She shifted her front feet, seeking a better purchase. The end of the log lifted, splashed down again, and she nearly lost it. More debris broke from the edge of the mat and floated away in the river’s hungry current. “Don’t struggle, lovely one. The log you are on might break free of the others. Stay as still as you can while I think. ”

 
The wave of warmth that flowed through him stilled his worrying. For a moment, he was flushed with pleasure, and he felt a stirring of emotion, like infatuation. As quickly as it had come, it faded. He clenched his hands. What had Alise called it? The dragon glamour. It felt good. Intoxicating and alive. Nearly, he reached after it and willed himself into it. Then she thrashed again, and once more he nearly fell into the water. No. He had to keep his distance and his own mind if he was to help her. A darker reason to stay separate came to him. If he let her join her thoughts too deeply with his thoughts and then she drowned—He shuddered to think of sharing that experience.

  He looked at the dragon, at the sky to estimate his time, and around at the trees. The trees, he decided, would represent their best chance. It would be hard work, but if he could rearrange the debris so that the current braced the heavier logs tight to the trees, and then get her to move herself there, she might find a sturdier position. He looked at her, waited until she was looking at him, and then tried to push his mental image into her mind. “Lovely queen, I will move wood and make a safer place for you. Until I am finished, do not struggle. Hang there and trust me. Can you do that?”

  Slipping.

  “I’ll hurry. Don’t give up. ”

  “I’ll be damned,” someone exclaimed in amused astonishment.

  Sedric spun, his heart leaping with joy at the sound of a human voice. He slipped, caught his balance, and then squinted into the dimness under the trees.

  “Up here. ” The man’s voice was a hoarse croak.

  He moved his eyes up and saw a man clambering down a tree trunk. His hands gripped the ridges of bark, and he stuck the toes of his boots in the cracks as he came quickly down. It wasn’t until he turned to face him that Sedric recognized him. It was the hunter, the older one. Jess. That was his name. They’d never spoken much. Jess plainly had no use for him, and he’d never explained his one visit to Sedric’s chamber. The man looked terrible, bruised and battered in the face, but he was alive and human and company.