Page 44 of Dragonbound

Disgruntled, he impatiently waited for sunrise and once more took to the sky. He needed to see exactly what he’d brought about. He felt ill at ease. He’d killed animals for no other reason than to preserve the life of an Other. Naer-Vera never said the Speaker couldn’t kill, but he also never said the Speaker could.

It took him next to no time to arrive at the blackened dwelling – to find it was still smoking even after a night of snow and storms. The only part of the structure that was still completely standing was where the Other had sheltered the previous night. The door to the remains of the main dwelling lay open and deserted when he poked his huge head inside the smouldering remains where the tunnel had collapsed.

Within, there were the bodies of at least two burnt wolves, for all his view was incomplete. There were also the bodies of the Others. While he knew they’d been dead before they were set upon by the wolves, it distressed him to see the carnage the wolves had wrought. Two bodies had their stomachs ripped out. The wolves had eaten well before their deaths.

He withdrew his head. Emotions pulsed through him that were difficult to equate with anything he’d ever felt before. He felt grief for the mutilated family. Yet he understood the instincts of the wolves. They’d been hungry and had chanced upon a meal to slacken their hunger. Should he have intervened? Was it not the way of his land that some must suffer so some could survive? Was that not the very lesson he was supposed to take away from the Others who dwelled within rún-ketill?

As his mind swirled with questions he couldn’t answer, he examined the refrozen dirty snow and saw there was a new set of footprints leading away from the building where the Other had sheltered last night. He took to the air once more, the dead wolves forgotten, and climbed up until he was as high as a mountain peak. Then he glided on his mighty golden wings, following the footprints so he didn’t have to think about his motives.

The footprints weaved uncertainly from side to side. Every so often, they went some way in one direction before returning to their original course. He was intrigued as to why until he caught up with the Other. It staggered along its path in a wild zig-zag. He was amazed it was making any progress at all.

At times, the Other seemed almost to crawl on its knees, and as it moved, loud choking noises emanated from it. The thoughts that flowed to him were incoherent. He tried to shut them out in an effort to call his mind his own. Still, he carried on following the Other, desperate to understand the link he felt with it. If he could just find a clue that might help him decipher why he’d helped it. Why he’d allowed the wolves to die in the flames.

Eventually, frustration overcame him as the day reached its peak. He flew high, away from the staggering figure. His wings cracked as he gained height in the peaceful day, and it struck him how noisy his wings were as he gained altitude.

With every downward stroke of his mighty wings, there was a sharp snap as if one of the Others had dropped something on the hard stone floor of rún-ketill. He wondered how the Other below didn’t hear the noise. The sound throbbed in his ears, and he marvelled that before he’d always thought he moved quietly.

Now he was overly conscious of the thwack and slap of his wings as they hit the static air around him. His thoughts concentrated only on that as he climbed higher and higher, trying to get away from the sad spectacle in front of him that had drawn his attention for so much of the day.

The higher he climbed the smaller the Other became. He was struck by the insignificance of this one little creature when compared to the vast land stretched out in front of him. Why did he feel so compelled to watch him? What hold did this Other have over him? With annoyance, he dived back towards the ground. He needed answers, and there was no one to ask.

As the day progressed, the Other ascended onto the giant glacier that was close to rún-ketill. He was unsure of the intentions of the figure he shadowed. He knew from the circuit of his home that none of the Others lived all the way out here. This was where the huge shield began, which kept his kind hidden from the notice of the Others. The shield shimmered luminescent in the sky. At the glacier’s furthest reaches to the north, his home lurked.

The glacier was a cold and frozen expanse, inhospitable to him, let alone to the small Other he followed, who stepped through the pulsing light shield without noticing. The day would soon draw to a close. Already the winds were picking up, buffeting his wings as he endeavoured to keep his giant body balanced. He knew it was time to leave, but he couldn’t. This Other called to him. As much as he chided himself for interfering the night before, he simply couldn’t turn away from such desperate entreaties.

He didn’t return home that night; instead, he stayed with the Other. As night fell, the wind grew stronger and battered against him. Even his tough skin felt chilled when he came to land near where the Other had collapsed in a tangle of limbs in the middle of the frozen glacier. He could feel the Other growing cold, just like the hatchling Other he’d rescued a few nights before. He sank low to the ground and covered the Other with his wings, creating a dome around him. He tucked his head under his wing, hoping the warmth of his breath would be sufficient to keep the Other warm enough to survive the night, grimacing at the fresh shard of pain down his back.

29

SKALD DREKKI

He woke abruptly the next morning, just as the sun began to crest the horizon. A voice – or were they thoughts – pushed into his mind. Something or someone close by. He lifted his head quickly from under his wing, a stab of pain accompanying the movement. He wasn’t covered in snow, but he could feel where the chill had sunk deep into his tough hide. It would take time for the heat from the sun to work its way back into his body.

He glanced around, his keen eyes searching the glacier for the creature whose thoughts were mingling with his. It was happening too frequently. He needed to find a way to control how easily other beings seemed to be able to infiltrate his mind without consent.

There was no one in sight, so he concentrated for a moment and then felt the animal presence coalesce. He jumped to his feet in distress. Another wolf. It had to be. It felt like before, the insatiable need to hunt and a desire for food intermingling. It was on the trail of something – what was it? And then he realised. The creature could smell the Other who lay asleep at his giant, clawed feet.

He scanned the iridescent glacier once more, squinting against the early morning glare. Finally, he focused on the wolf and realised it wasn’t alone. An Other accompanied it.

Unsure what to do, Skaldi checked the wolf’s thoughts, surprised to find it more interested in him than the Other. Its focus had changed from questing for the Other to seeking for him – or rather for the unknown thing it could smell but couldn’t see.

Without further thought, Skaldi took to the sky, working hard to gain height quickly from ground level, feeling the cool air beating downwards with each wing stroke. He didn’t want the wolf to discover him. How did it even know of his presence? The other wolves had been entirely unaware of him. Before the flames.

Soon he was high above the heads of the wolf and the Other. Only when he was certain they’d not detect him did he glance back to where his Other lay. What would they do with him if they discovered him? He felt a pang of regret for abandoning the Other he’d protected on the glacier and when he’d driven the wolves from the dwelling. Well, most of them. He probed the creature and the Other, striding towards where he’d slept all night long. He could sense no malice in the Other.

Still, he hung in the air, moving his wings just to keep his height, not wanting to go any closer for fear the wolf would do something to reveal his presence.

He watched as the wolf ran ahead and stopped to nose around his Other. The wolf’s Other hurried to catch up. Skaldi pushed back against the surge of conflicting emotions that flooded into his mind, as she – he was certain it was a she – dropped next to his Other and looked for signs of life.

As quickly as she’d arrived, the woman and the wolf disappeared into a sheltered cave and the stream of emotions dimmed. What was happening? Were they going to abandon his Other? Skaldi hesitated, wondering if he should try to carry the Other back to rún-ketill. But then the wolf appeared again and dragged his Other after her, using her mouth. Why hadn’t he thought to do that? It would have been much more comfortable within a cave than lying out in the open. Admittedly, it might not have been as easy to accomplish as for the wolf. He’d carried the small Other to his home. But one of this size?

He turned towards rún-ketill, acutely aware his behaviour was completely at odds with his role as Speaker. And yet he was unable to condemn himself for his actions. He’d saved the lives of two separate Others in as many days. Surely that was more honourable than leaving them to perish on this cold and unforgiving land.

He wondered how the hatchling was faring. Perhaps he could search for its mind when he returned home. His claws touched the ground of his ledge and he was soon inside his cavern, the green glow from the stone at its heart seeming to pulse brighter.

He reached out with his thoughts in search of the hatchling. Almost at once, he received a rush of impressions from the young Other. A confusion of half-formed memories, the sound of light, the press of need. There was no clear sense of where the hatchling ended and the world began. He nudged its thoughts, trying to train them into a pattern he could follow.

It was full.