Jimmy got a thoughtful look. “This is the second time we ride north, and it’s the second time I wish Amos Trask was with us.”
Arutha said, “Well, he is not. Let’s turn in. We’ve a long ride ahead, and I must decide what to do with you two young rogues.”
Jimmy wrapped his bedroll about him, as did the others, while Roald maintained the first watch. Then for the first time in weeks, Jimmy dropped quickly off to sleep, free of grief.
SEVEN - Mysteries
Ryath thundered into familiar skies.
Above the forests of the Kingdom she wheeled. From her came the thought, I must hunt. The dragon preferred mind-speech while flying, though she spoke aloud upon the ground.
Tomas looked back at Pug, who answered. “It is far to Macros’s island. Nearly a thousand miles.”
Tomas smiled. “We can be there more quickly than you imagine.”
“How far can Ryath fly?”
“Around the globe of this world without landing, though I think she’d judge there was no good reason to do so. Also, you’ve not seen a tenth of her speed.”
“Good,” answered Pug. “Then, when we’ve landed upon Sorcerer’s Isle.”
Tomas requested more forbearance from the dragon, who grudgingly agreed. Climbing high in the blue skies of Midkemia, Ryath followed Pug’s directions, over the peaks of mountains, toward the Bitter Sea. With mighty beats of her wings she climbed to where she could soar. Soon the landscape below sped away, and Pug wondered what the limits of the dragon’s speed might be. They were moving more rapidly than a running horse and seemed to be picking up speed. There was a component of magic in Ryath’s flying ability, for while the dragon appeared to soar, she was in fact increasing speed without a single beat of her wings. Faster and faster they flew. They were comfortable, owing to Tomas’s magic; he protected them from wind and cold, though Pug was nearly dizzy from exhilaration. The forests of the Far Coast gave way to the peaks of the Grey Towers and then they were speeding over the lands of the Free Cities of Natal. Next they were flying over the waters of the Bitter Sea, highlights of silver and green glittering on the deep blue, and ships plying the summer trade routes from Queg to the Free Cities looked but a child’s toys.
As they sped high above the island kingdom of Queg, they could see the capital and outlying villages, again looking like playthings from this height. Far below them winged shapes flew in formation over the edge of land, and from the dragon came a mirthful chuckle.
Tomas said, “They are not what they once were.”
Pug said, “What is it?”
Tomas pointed downward. “Those are descendants of the giant eagles I hunted - Ashen-Shugar hunted - ages past. I flew them as lesser men fly falcons. Those ancient birds were intelligent after a fashion.”
The island men train these and ride them as others do horses. They are a fallen breed.
Tomas seemed irritated. “Like so much else, they are but a shadow of what they once were.”
With humour, the dragon answered,
Pug said nothing. Well as he understood his friend, there was much about him no one could ever fathom. Tomas was unique in all the world and had burdens upon his soul no other being could comprehend. In a vague way Pug could understand how these descendants of the once proud eagles Ashen-Shugar had hunted could pain Tomas, but he chose not to comment. Whatever disquiet Tomas experienced, it was his alone.
A short time later another island came into view, tiny compared to the nation of Queg, but still large enough to house a sizeable population. But Pug knew only a few had ever abided there, for it was Sorcerer’s Isle, home of Macros the Black.
As they sped over the northwestern edge of the island, they dipped lower, clearing a range of hills, then flew above a small vale. Pug said, “It can’t be!” Tomas said, “What?”
“There was an odd . . . place here before. A home with outbuildings. It’s where I met Macros. Kulgan, Gardan, Arutha, and Meecham were all there, too.”
They swooped over tall trees. Tomas said, “These oaks and bristlecone pines did not grow in even the near-dozen years since you first met the sorcerer, Pug. They are ancient in aspect.”