Page 193 of Dragon Champion (Age of Fire 1)

“Truth is a worthy goal, but I look for revenge, Wyrmmaster.”

“That’s Supremacy to you, gray,” the youth said, stepping forward with hand on sword-hilt.

“We’ll work out the titles later, Eliam,” the Wyrmmaster said, gripping the weapon so that it could not be unsheathed. “NooShoahk looks a little hollow about the eyes. We’re poor hosts to one who has come so far to offer wing, claw, tooth, and fire to our cause. Tell me, is Shadowcatch still the ranking dragon?”

“No, Wyrmmaster,” the hairy-faced man spoke up, “As of the last trial, Starlight outclimbed Shadowcatch. The new order is Starlight, Shadowcatch, and Ramshard.”

“You’re not thinking of giving him a chance at being a breeder,” the young Dragonblade whom the Wyrmmaster had called Eliam said.

“Odd names for dragons,” AuRon opined.

“These dragons were born here. Different land, different traditions,” the Wyrmmaster said easily. “Feed our bright new dragon, and give him a day’s rest. We’ll hold trials on the morning after. We’ll match Ramshard and NooShoahk. We can use a dragon of this gray’s intelligence in the cause. What do you say, NooShoahk? Care to test yourself against one of our best dragons?”

AuRon wondered if he was speaking to the wizard he had come to slay, or some herald. He was in no shape to kill and then fly; he needed rest and a meal. Then there was Wistala. If there were a chance that Tala lived on this island . . .

“A fight?” AuRon asked.

“That’s part of it, but there are strict rules. Flying figures into it as well, laden and unladen. You should do quite well. I’ve read that grays are the fastest dragons in the sky. We could use more of your kind. Pleasant duty.”

“As you say.”

“An ideal way of thinking, NooShoahk. I predict you’ll go far.”

AuRon could never have imagined a barrack for dragons, but that was where the bushy-faced man with the elaborate belt, who AuRon learned was named Varl, led him. It was only a brief walk down through the crudely dug tunnels. They passed a man staircase, and AuRon smelled fresh air coming down from above. Another shaft had lines and guide-rails built into it.>“I’m a stranger here,” AuRon admitted. “My business is my own. I’ve flown from a land where even the stars are strange. My name is NooShoahk, of the line of NooMoahk.”

“You’re a civilized dragon. You speak well.”

“I read and speak the four hominid tongues, and dialects besides. I’ve heard you need dragons who can fight, and flew far to join.”

“Join? Join? We’ve had men join, but never dragons.”

“A wise man knows that just because something hasn’t happened, doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

“I leave wisdom to the Wyrmmaster. I’m but a servant of his Supremacy.”

“Wyrmmaster? I’ll obey a just lord as liege, but I’ll call no man my master.”

“He has a way with your kind. Wait here.” The man turned, muttered something to one of the men at the ropes, and moved off into the cavern until he disappeared into the shadows left by tallow dips set into the walls. The other men continued with their duties, watching AuRon out of their eye-corners and drooping lids. AuRon smelled bloody meat somewhere within the cave.

The older dragon, wearing a harness that reminded AuRon of the baskets he had seen men and blighters put on mules, approached. It had scales of muted red, like laterite. There were no challenging bellows, no display of armored fans. Its crest bore six goodly-size horns.

“You I not know,” it said, golden eyes blinking at him in confusion. “You fly with men other side mountains?” Its speech was harder to interpret than the hairy man’s Parl.

“The mountains to the east?”

“That way,” the dragon said, pointing with its snout toward the Red Mountains.

AuRon marked new men entering the landing-cavern. Men in dragon-scale armor. “Yes, I come from the other side of them.”

“Is good hunting there?”

“Very good.”

“Fighting stock or breeding stock?”

“Neither. I’ve only just arrived.”

The dragon looked him up and down for a minute. “You not fighting stock, no scales. Not breeding stock, no scales—old man not want soft hatchlings. I think you laughingstock.”

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