Daughter of Dragons

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

A sound as sudden and bold as a thunderclap rolled into Taziem’s caves, instantly rousing her from erotic day-dreams. She took a moment to stretch because it felt good to do so, and because she did not wish to seem too eager—then strode out to the landing and trumpeted a reply.

As her welcome faded from the air, a shadow glided over her head. It was as vast as a cloud, yet powerful and lithe. A moment later, this shadow became a mass of rust-red scales and muscle. It folded its wings with a dramatic snap, then struck a majestic pose.

“Taziem.” The image-thought was one of canny black magnificence; its undertones were fraught with respect and pleasure. “I have waited for your Call from the moment we last parted.”

“Bij.” She offered him an exaggerated version of his Name-image: it was blatant flattery on one level; a subtle satire of his ego on another. “Your wait is over.”

They rubbed noses, then entwined necks. This embrace sparked an ache in Taziem’s loins; and Bij’s s*x-spiced musk filled her with an urge to roar.

“Shall I dance for you?” he asked then, flashing her an image of the sky.

“Is that wise?” she asked in return, meaning to goad him into a better performance. “Your journey was lengthy, and no doubt arduous as well. You must be tired—”

“Tired?” In a single fluid movement, he reared up onto his hindquarters and unfurled his wings. “Do I look tired to you?”

Before she could respond, he launched himself into the sky.

His dance was intricate and daring, a stylish spectacle of agility and strength. He went from a graceful strut to a raunchy swagger, then flung himself into a string of stunts which combined time-honed skills and youthful verve. As he flaunted himself, the spark in Taziem’s loins turned into a slow, delicious fire. She began to whimper, then to writhe; her wings unfolded of their own accord. When she could not bear the humming in her blood any longer, she hurled herself into the sky.

Bij loosed a triumphant roar, then abandoned his dance and went tearing after her. She teased him at first, racing round and round the mountaintop at break-neck speed. But she was too excited to play for long, and so high above an alpine meadow, she let him catch her. Their necks entwined. Their wing-strokes became synchronized. Then, with a shriek, Taziem began her Season in earnest.

After that first exhaustive coupling, Bij hunted down a stag for each of them, and they gorged. Then, all appetites slaked for the moment, they returned to Taziem’s caves. She had sealed off her inner chambers days ago to keep her Chosen from raiding her hoard of diamonds, so they curled up back to belly in one of the outer caverns. The only thing she wanted to do now was relax and exchange a little gossip, but Bij was too fidgety and restless for that.

“There is a faint reek about this place,” he told her, rumbling with disapproval. “It smells suspiciously human. Have those two-legged intruders been giving you trouble?”

A private image of The Soft One flared in Taziem’s mind. She quickly extinguished it again. Bij would not understand her reasons for bringing Lathwi here, or for allowing her to remain for so many years. Indeed, his comprehension would be limited to a single point: she had suckled a human instead of swallowing it whole. And he would be outraged. In his fury, he would make this Season a misery for her. Worse, he might force her to choose another mate. She did not relish either prospect. Therefore, she meant to keep Lathwi’s existence a secret from him.

Fortunately, that was no great challenge. For while her chosen was one of the mightiest dragon-sires still alive, his strengths were all physical. When it came to mental ability, he was no match for her. No one was.

No one except perhaps Lathwi.

But that, too, would remain her secret.

“I have had no trouble with humans,” she told him then, perfectly truthful in a sly sort of way. “Am I correct in assuming you cannot make the same claim?”

“Quite correct.”

The thought was grim. Its underlying sentiment was one of rage. With a flick of her eyelids, she encouraged him to elaborate. He obliged with a resentful torrent of images.

“At first they invaded my territory by ones and twos—seemingly witless fools who spent their days sifting through streams or burrowing into mountain-sides. Then one of them discovered a substance called gold. Now the entire southern range is crawling with the noisy, stinking creatures. They are razing my favourite hunting grounds, and slaughtering my favourite prey. I have driven them away time and time again, but they always return, and always in greater numbers.”

Taziem shrugged, unconcerned. Bij tended to exaggerate when men were involved. And besides, exaggerated or not, it was his territory that was being invaded, not hers.

“And that is not the worst of their affronts,” he went on, veiling the thought with menacing shadows.

“No?” The archness of her reply mocked his penchant for theatrics. “Then what is?”

“They have begun to hunt the younger dragons—not for fortune or territory, but for sport.” He paused, giving her time to suck in a scandalized breath, then added, “They do not even eat the meat afterward.”

She did not rue the passing of a few unknown younglings. Stupid dragons died every day; and any dragon who had fallen prey to men must have been stupid indeed. Nevertheless, the news troubled her, for she had seen no sign of such depravity in Lathwi. Was her fosterling an aberration? Or were Bij’s humans the flukes?

Her chosen caught no glimpse of her uneasy thoughts. He was still fuming.

“It is intolerable. Completely intolerable. How dare they hunt our young? We are skyfolk, superior in every way. And there are few enough of us left in the world as it is.”

“Blame that on Galza,” Taziem replied, filling his mind with an image of red-eyed malice. “It was She and Her krim who nearly exterminated us in the waning days of Ever-Light.”

“Yes, yes, I know the tale.” The thought bristled with impatience. “Galza tried to destroy us only to be destroyed Herself by the Stone Oma. It would seem that the humans are now intent on fulfilling Her goal.”

Her tail slashed back and forth across the cavern floor, a gesture of growing irritation.

“How can you possibly compare humans and their puny acts of spite with Galza’s relentless venom?” she demanded. “She killed thousands, Bij. Can you imagine a number that large?”

“No,” he admitted, “but—”

“And so what if humans have killed a few stupid dragons? If every youngling from every clutch lived to adulthood, the world would collapse beneath our weight. There would not be enough food to feed us all, or enough diamonds to keep us all amused.

“Would you willingly cede a portion of your territory to a caveless youngling?”

“No.”

“Would you spare a challenger’s life?”

“So it could return to challenge me again some day?” he demanded indignantly. “I think not.”

“And yet you complain about our dwindling numbers. You might as well roar at the sun for setting every day.”

“Perhaps,” he growled, undaunted by her scorn, “but what does any of this have to do with the humans? Great or small, they remain a threat to our well-being.”

“To your well-being,” she asserted, although she was not wholly convinced of that, either.

“They are a threat,” he insisted.

“All right then, let us suppose that they are. What do you think we should do about it?”

He sprayed an image of red blood and wholesale s*******r at her. She rejected the proposal with another hiss.

“Not all humans seek our destruction, Bij. Killing them indiscriminately, for no better reason than hate, would be an act worthy only of krim.”

His nostrils flared, a gesture of resentment and wounded pride. “Do you have a better solution?”

“Not yet,” she replied, the obvious implication being that she would in due time, “but I can tell you this much: there are stupid humans and not-so-stupid humans. A clever dragon would learn to tell the difference between one kind and the other before he began issuing challenges. Otherwise, he might receive a nasty surprise.”

“How have you come to be such an expert on humans?” he demanded irritably.

“I am the Learned One,” was her haughty reply. “I am on my way to becoming an expert on everything. But enough of this talk about humans already. Have we nothing better to do?”

She embellished the suggestion with a series of erotic images. He rumbled approvingly, then urged her toward open skies.