Page 167 of Dragon Champion (Age of Fire 1)

“The seat of the dragon-throne could be beneath the old statue.”

“The sun-shard,” Unrush mused.

“A gift to you and to your people. I hope you will take my advice and learn from the library. There are lifetimes’ worth of wisdom there.”

“My mind warned against war, though my heart lusted after it. I will follow my mind’s path. You will live in our songs as the patron of a people.”

The dawn came. Unrush’s village woke to a brilliant summer dawn, a yellow sun set against the sky of the deepest blue. AuRon had not slept. His mind raced with the thought of leaving his cave, doubt and hope at war for his spirit.

He felt Hieba stir at his side. She yawned and joined a file of blighters going to the town’s bathing spring, cranky children in tow.

Staretz and his two ambassadors held court with Unrush and some of his people. AuRon picked out a few words: “One war in my lifetime is enough” and “You toss away greatness for your people” from Unrush and the ambassador Korutz respectively. Dragons do not smile naturally, but AuRon, having picked up the gesture somewhere or other, found his facial muscles pulling the ends of his mouth up at the news. Unrush had shown himself wiser than the venerable Staretz, and more persuasive, for his chieftains gathered behind him, symbolically backing him.>“Stay close to me,” AuRon said to Hieba. “If I open my wings, get on my neck.” AuRon took a few steps toward the gate to put his length between the strange blighters and Unrush’s people. Unrush and a few of his chieftains came forward. Neither group showed unsheathed weapons, but there was a tension in the air.

“This is Balazeh?” Unrush asked his guest.

“Yes. That is Staretz, a magus of the north. He is strong in wizardry. With him is Korutz, lieutenant to the King of Charioteers in the high plains. Make obeisance.”

“It is for the visitor to do,” Unrush said. “Even if the King of Charioteers comes himself.”

Staretz, to AuRon, was just a tough old blighter, looking like a gnarled tree clinging among high rocks, dried out and twisted but fiercely intent on survival. He did not descend from his camel, but cleared his throat, waiting for a greeting. Unrush stood his ground and ignored the elbow of Balazeh prodding him.

One of the magus’s retainers broke the silence. “So it is true. There is a dragon in these mountains. Who sits on the renowned dragon-throne, word of which has come even to the north?”

“Who wishes to know?” one of Unrush’s sons asked. “It is for him to make introductions.”

“Stop this,” AuRon rumbled. “Such an important visitor comes, and we cannot welcome him properly while he sits on his mount.”

Staretz made no move, but the camel’s legs folded up beneath its cloak of fur.

“Dragon-king, you shame two proud Umazheh,” Staretz said in Drakine, with surprising facility. AuRon had never heard it pronounced so well by a hominid. “Staretz of the Hardgrounds speaks to the Umazheh of these mountains.”

“Unrush of Uldam’s Gates welcomes you,” Unrush said, coming forward with a mat under each arm. He unrolled one on the ground for the visitor, and when the magus was comfortable, sat himself opposite.

“Thank you, great king,” Staretz said.

“No king,” Unrush said. “Just a high chieftain, by the fates and this dragon’s mercy.”

“The King of Charioteers says more, and sends his lieutenant Korutz to you as an ambassador. They say your domain covers these mountains from where the sun touches at dawn in the east to the last light of dusk in the west.”

“True, but there are not many among these mountains. Our flocks number in the multitudes, but our spears counted only ten score, ten times and four.”

“It is those spears, and this dragon, that we must discuss. Noble king, great dragon, I come to you with a vision.”

“I listen,” Unrush said.

“It is for the ears of the Umazheh. Will the human understand?”

“She does not know our speech,” AuRon said. “She is a decoration. No more.”

Staretz planted his palms on the mat and leaned forward resting on his long arms like an ape god in the south. “There is confusion among our old enemies. They have grown rich, and in being rich think they deserve this, that it has always been so and will always be so. With wealth comes softness—the best money-pilers rise and breed more like themselves—while the strong and brave wither away. We, on the other hand, we of the wastes, of the mountains, of the frosts, snows, and swamps, we have grown hard in our exile far from the fallow lands.

“What was stolen from us will be returned. The nameless gods promised us our reward after long suffering.”

“I have heard those tales, too,” Unrush said. “ ‘That the skies would fill with fire, that the seas would boil, that rock would melt away like ice in the summer sun.’ None of this has passed.”

“I have seen it. I saw it in the north, at the edges of the Hardgrounds, the dwarvish city of Kell. The Varvar joined with my people and destroyed it, three years ago. I watched a glacier melt, the skies burn, and the battlements dissolve when the UnderKell was drowned. Since then I have gone from tribe to tribe, telling my tale that the days of doom have come, and our reward and return from exile is here.”

AuRon’s sii furrowed the ground. “What melted the glacier? Fire from the sky? How was this done?”

---