A Sending of Dragons by Jane Yolen Read Free Book Online Page B

Jakkin said. “Or near enough. But even dead it’ll make a final fatal pass, a kind of reflex, because of those sensors.” He pointed to the fleshy sensors. They were still pulsing. “Didn’t you study
that
in your anatomy lessons?” he asked.
    â€œI never studied drakk,” she said softly.
    â€œSomeone at the nursery told me he knew a man whose leg was nearly severed in two by a very dead drakk.”
    Akki shivered and let the rock fall.
    Hot, foul-smelling drakk blood oozed onto the gorse.
    â€œLast time,” mused Jakkin, “the smell of that blood made me sick.”
    â€œLast time you weren’t part dragon,” Akki said, but her voice was strange, and
Jakkin suddenly realized it was because she was holding her nose.
    Sssargon walked stiff-legged over to the dead drakk and, using only the tip of his tail, poked and prodded it gingerly, waiting for a response. When there was none he pushed the drakk slowly—from the backside only—through the ground cover and over the edge of the cliff. When it landed, after a long fall, Sssasha sent a chuckling thought into Jakkin’s head.
    â€œSplat!!!
” Then she turned her attention to helping Tri-ssskkette, slowly licking the tom wing. When the wound was clean she swiveled her great head toward Akki.
“Fix?
”
    Akki smiled weakly and went back to the spikka. Her sling pack lay under the tree. In one of the jars were the remains of her medkit. She whispered to Jakkin, “I hope the needles I have are strong enough for dragon skin.” Threading the needle, she went to work. Her small, careful stitches patchworked the flesh and scale feathers that had been tom. “See,” she said to Jakkin, “luckily the
bande dominus,
the big wing bone here, is untouched.
Otherwise she would have been in real trouble.”
    Jakkin nodded, muttering under his breath, “
Bande dominus.
”
    After a few minutes, except for the strange nobbiness of the thread, the wing looked as good as new.
    â€œNo more sleeping under trees,” said Jakkin. “There are still a number of drakk there. And since they usually fly in a straight trajectory”—he hesitated—“they probably nest right here in the meadow. In the top of one of these spikkas.”
    Sssargon’s anger suddenly forced its way through to them in red hot splashes. “
Sssargon fight. Sssargon flames.
” And to everyone’s amazement he shot a spearhead of flame out half a meter.
    â€œSssargon has lousy timing,” said Akki, but she reached out and scratched him under the chin.
    â€œThou brave worm,” Jakkin said, unconsciously falling into the elevated formal language that pit trainers used with their dragons.
    Sssargon preened under their attention, oblivious of the ironic undertones. He even
sent a wilder thought to them:
“Sssargon kill. Kill all. Sssargon flames once more.”
    â€œWorm,” warned Jakkin, “we can’t be running off to fight now.”
    â€œYes, brave Sssargon,” said Akki, holding up the medkit. “We have little thread left for sewing up thy mighty wings.”
    â€œAnd only one small knife and one small spear and . . .”
    Sssargon’s fiery reply shot through them. He did not understand, nor did he
want
to understand, human reasoning. He wanted blood and earth and air and fire. When Akki tried to send a soothing gray cloud to cover his burning landscape, he shook it off, pumped his wings, and leaped into the air. They could feel the backwind as he flipped to the left and flew out over the valley, his defiance screaming into their minds.
    â€œLizard waste,” shouted Jakkin after him. Turning to Akki, he said, “I’ve never had a dragon act like this.”
    â€œYou’re used to nursery dragons, trained and pampered. These hatchlings are wild.”
    â€œWell, they weren’t born wild,” Jakkin said.
    â€œHis