Page 256 of Dragon Strike (Age of Fire 4)

“It seems to me there’s danger in it,” AuRon said. “Anklamere used it, the Red Queen. Were they who used it corrupt, or did the power within it corrupt them?”

“In the end, it seems it did them more harm than good. They were defeated despite its power,” HeBellereth said.

AuRon looked at the crystal. He’d lived with it for years. Yet it seemed different. Not in general shape. It still had a heavier end and a curve to it, an upright kidney, but he could have sworn it had grown.

Perhaps it was just a trick of the light in this chamber. “I am not convinced she is dead,” AuRon said. “The Red Queen may turn up again.”

The Copper gave orders for a guard to be placed at the entrance to the stairs.

Then he slept, more or less comfortably, on some hay in the stables at the side of the palace. And still dragons disturbed him, flying in to report a barge sunk or some cattle pinned in a box canyon. If only so many of his dragons weren’t illiterates, he would hang up a sign outside that said “Decide for Yourself.” Parl would do. It was a good vigorous language that allowed you to make your point with a minimum of words.

He woke to a glorious dawn. Maybe this was why the Ghioz made their capital here, for the views of the sun coming up as clouds raced around the end of the mountains from southwest to northeast in furrows like the fresh-plowed fields he’d seen while flying.

So much to do. Crippled griffaran who had survived their plunge, wounded dragons and men—he gave orders that the dragon-rider wounded were to have as much dragonblood as they could stand. If nothing else it would ease their passage into death. The citadel fortress might make a good place to house them, for now.

Already men were arriving from Ghioz, answering warnings that they should mark the roof of house and barn, warehouse and temple, with white linen or paint if they wished to avoid destruction.

Most of the Ghioz Empire would fall to pieces, he expected. Just as well. AuRon had already planned to set that human friend of his up as king in Dar—no, Dairuss, it was called. It would be well to have an armed body of men, as long as they remembered to whom they owed their liberty.

He didn’t have anything like the dragons to manage all this. He’d have to see about taking the best and the brightest of the thralls from the Lavadome and setting them up here to act as go-betweens for the dragons and their new domain. The Anklenes had thralls who could read and write in several tongues. He would have positions for even CoTathanagar’s endless stream of relatives now. But there must be dragons to serve and protect them, Drakwatch and Firemaids to keep order.

NiVom had done an admirable job of spreading the word. He would probably make a good governor of the Ghioz Uphold, come to think of it.

He expected that he and Nilrasha would spend much time traveling between Hypatia, Ghioz, and the Lavadome. He’d have to find a nice cave somewhere—there looked to be some fine ground where those spearlike rocks stuck up toward the sky, about the right distance from each—and set up a small refuge cave, where just he and Nilrasha and a few thralls could take their ease from the travels.

What a world of possibilities awaited them.

That lithe little Firemaid he’d met the previous year arrived and collapsed almost on top of him.

“My Tyr,” she gasped, “your Queen needs you. Nilrasha was hurt in battle in Hypatia, and Ayafeeia asks that you attend her.”

Hypatia?

“What is she doing in Hypatia?” he asked, angering. “How did she come there?”

“She led the Firemaids in battle, my Tyr.”

The Copper swung his wing, and . . . It wasn’t this little flash of green’s fault.

Oh, Nilrasha. What have you done now? Once she had an idea in her head it was like digging out an obstinate dwarf.

“I’ll come at once. You look worn-out, ummm—”

“Yefkoa, my Tyr.”

“Of course. The one who begged an escape from a mating.”

She glanced around at some of the Aerial Host, who cast admiring glances her way. “A mating to fat old SoRolatan, my Tyr, and he already mated.”

He called HeBellereth over. “I must fly to Hypatia.”

“Eat first, my Tyr. I believe it is a long way.”

“Over a day’s hard flight,” Yefkoa panted. “For me.”

“That means three days for me,” the Copper said. “Consult with NiVom on matters here. You two were good friends when we were in the Drakwatch together. It should not be too difficult to remember old times and forget the recent past. Consult, I said. You’re in charge, not he.”

“Yes, my Tyr.” HeBellereth studied his sii.

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