Chapter Text
They are flying fast, but she’s sure that she could fly faster, even with her damaged wing, which she knows means that Tairn could fly much much faster. And they need to fly faster because Xaden has drawn power from the earth, and now Sgaeyl is missing.
They need to get to her.
We can go faster, Andarna urges him. You don’t have to slow down for me; I am quicker than this and stronger than you think.
No, Tairn tells her implacably. He is still wearing his harness and saddle from the battle.
We need to get to her.
No, he repeats. We are going at exactly the right speed.
She struggles not to snap back; things are bad enough without arguing between her and Tairn, and she knows that he is nearly frantic. After a moment, Tairn relents a bit.
I know you could go faster, Golden One, and it is kindly thought of you to try. But we do not know how long it will take to find her; we may be flying for a long time and need to save strength. She is no longer golden, but she loves that he still calls her so.
You don’t know where she is?
No, Tairn grinds out, and she can hear how much it burns inside him that he doesn’t know where his mate is. She is somewhere in this direction, but I cannot tell exactly where. She has – closed me out.
I didn’t know mates could do that. Not fully.
I didn’t either.
The silence stretches between them as they cut through the air at the same steady pace.
We could separate, Andarna suggests. We could cover a lot more territory that way.
Tairn doesn’t respond for a long time. Finally:
We should stay together. We do not know what we will find when we find her.
And Andarna knows that he is afraid. She has never seen Tairn afraid, never really imagined it would be possible. But he is, afraid that Sgaeyl will be hurt or mad with rage or grief. Unreachable.
Whatever is happening, helping Sgaeyl is the most important thing, Andarna insists. I can handle whatever happens. She must come first.
I am putting her first. She would want to protect you, and she’s not here to do it. So I will do it for her. We will not speed up, and we will not separate. We will stay together, and we will find her, and we will help her.
We will help her, Andarna agrees. She will not accept any other possibility. She will stay with him, she will keep up with him.
She will fall out of the sky in mid-flight before she will fail either of them.
*****
They have been flying for hours, and Tairn has been growing increasingly grim when Andarna looks down at the landscape below and thinks it seems familiar. She has been here with Sgaeyl before. Andarna pushes a little bit more speed into her unbearably heavy wings.
This way, she tells him.
They top the crest of a peak and she glides down near its face towards a narrow crevasse, a high-mountain valley with an icy waterfall. And that’s where they find her. Sgaeyl sits under its glacial flow, letting the water run over her as her head hangs low. Tairn goes into a steep dive, landing in the valley near the waterfall with a sound like thunder, and he steps under the waterfall without hesitation as the freezing water falls off him in sheets. He spreads his wings over his mate, protecting her from the biting cold. Andarna lands as well, wading straight into the frigid river. The temperature bites through her scales; she ignores it and starts to nudge Sgaeyl with her snout, urging her out of the cascade and onto the grass nearby.
Let’s get you out of the water, she tells her adoptive dam. We are here now, and we will help you. Sgaeyl isn’t moving, and Andarna pushes harder, forcing down her own anxiety. What if she can’t figure out what to do or say to help? What if she can’t be what Sgaeyl and Tairn need her to be, if she fails? No, that is definitely not going to happen. She will not permit it.
Come up onto the grass and lay down with me. We can rest together. But Sgaeyl doesn’t move.
Andarna needs rest, Tairn says, and Sgaeyl looks up listlessly. She has flown farther than she should, aiding me in my search for you. It will help her to lay down with you. Sgaeyl’s eyes are heavy-lidded, but she looks down at Andarna, who allows some of her anxiety and weariness to show in her eyes. Sgaeyl doesn’t seems to respond, but after a moment she takes a few heavy steps away from the waterfall and up onto the bank. Andarna continues to herd her.
Here is a good spot, Andarna says. Let’s lay down together here.
Sgaeyl lays down, curled in a tight ball, and Andarna can feel the roiling confusion in Sgaeyl’s mind. The grief and denial, the inability to understand what happened. And burning beneath them – anger, deep and fierce and endless. Andarna curls around the older dragon, wrapping herself around as much of her as she can. Tairn was right, Andarna has flown farther and faster than she really should, and she really is starting to feel the weight of exhaustion.
She is cold, Andarna tells her adoptive sire. He launches wordlessly, wings beating hard as he soars halfway up the mountain. Andarna watches as he hovers above a large boulder and heats it up with a fierce blast of his flame, then rips it from the ground, carrying it in his talons back to the two females and laying it near to Sgaeyl. She soughs softly as the warmth begins to ease the cold that was settling into her bones.
She is very angry with him, Andarna suggests to Tairn hesitantly.
He doesn’t reply immediately. Then: It is not only him with whom she is angry.
I failed him, Sgaeyl says blankly.
Tairn roars. You failed nobody.
There is no dragon who can provide enough power to match the power in the earth, Andarna tells her. He would have had to drain you dry, to kill you.
Yes. That is what he should have done. He could have done that and won. I was not powerful enough and he was not ruthless enough. We failed, and we lost.
You did not lose. We won the battle, and the war is still to come. If he had drained you dry, he would have died too, and Tairn and Violet, Andarna argues. Sgaeyl shrugs her great shoulders, and Andarna turns her head away, whispering, And I would have been left alone.
Andarna has been left alone before. She was alone a long time, for over six hundred years. She doesn’t want to be left alone again. Her words seem to get through a bit, and Sgaeyl glances her way.
A spark of hope returns to Andarna, but an emotional argument won’t be enough, she knows. Sgaeyl is not known for being overly responsive to pathos. Andarna tries logic instead: No true warrior throws away all their weapons in one fight.
The Golden One is right, Tairn tells his mate. The lieutenant had no choices that would protect both his honor and our victory. He made the choice that cost him the most and cost the ones he loved the least.
We will not speak of my rider in the past tense! Sgaeyl flares. It is good to see, and Andarna dares to hope a little more.
You are right, Tairn acknowledges. He is still your rider.
Until I say he isn’t.
Yes, Tairn acknowledges. Rest now, both of you, he tells them. He stands above them, his wings still spread wide to cover them. I will keep watch.
Andarna stretches out her damaged wing, laying it out over Sgaeyl’s dulled navy scales. Just close your eyes and rest, she tells her adoptive dam. We are all together now. You can decide what to do after you sleep. And perhaps eat a nice sheep or two. Tairn can hunt for us both.
It is his duty as my mate.
I shall always fulfill my duty as your mate.
Here, breathe with me and sleep. Andarna starts to take slow, deep breaths, and Sgaeyl gradually begins to fall into the same rhythm. She falls into sleep, but it is a restless doze until Tairn lowers his huge head, letting out a long smoky breath near Sgaeyl’s snout. She breathes in deeply of her mate’s scent and seems to settle a bit.
Andarna looks up at Tairn. I’ve never seen her like this.
She is in shock, but that will pass. It helps her to have you here. He pauses. Then: It helps me also to have you here. Thank you, nighean.
He has never called her this. It has been a very, very long time since anybody has called her this. Andarna blinks hard several times. Dragons do not get sentimental, she reminds herself.
He called her “daughter.” The thought stays with her as she drifts into sleep, her strained wing stretched out over her adoptive dam while Tairn stands protectively above them both.