Aeromancer by Don Callander

Author:Don Callander [Callander, Don]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
Publisher: Mundania Press LLC
Published: 2013-11-04T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

The Foothills

In the last of High Desert’s short twilight, Lesser Dragon and Nameless arrived and settled down behind the large dune overlooking the Slave Traders’ busy, noisy encampment.

“Do you think she’s there?” muttered Lesser. “Do you see her?”

Nameless nodded eagerly.

“Will you go down and join her, then?” the Dragon asked, a bit wistfully. “Would that be safe, do you think?”

The flying horse shook her head slowly. They stood watching the activity of the Slavers’ camp for a long moment.

“It gets quite chilly very quickly out here,” observed the filly’s vast companion. “I’d better stay close, then. You can snuggle next to me and avoid any chills that might be lurking about.”

The horse snorted and bumped her companion with her hip, as if to say, That’s the idea, old chap! We’ll watch through the long night together.

Lesser Dragon settled down, wriggling his hips, tail, legs, and shoulders until the soft sand flowed about him, hiding them both from all but the closest examination.

He closed his eyes and dozed. (It’s the way of all Dragons to sleep whenever nothing presents itself for action.) After full dark, Nameless wandered slowly away to examine the guard outposts and study the stars, which were very bright in the deeply indigo sky.

Myrn and Douglas sat side by side eating the delicious roast, the minty sauce, and the roasted potatoes Blue Teakettle had sent them.

They had told Harroun Sheik their story—stories, rather—and explained their missions.

Marbleheart Sea Otter, taking a break from being a monkey, stretched himself full length in the still-warm sand, listening to their talk and putting in comments when he felt the conversation needed a boost.

The Journeyman Aeromancer, also restored to his proper shape, sat listening silently. His head nodded at times, for it had been a long, hot day. As a caterpillar he found he became uncommonly foot-weary by eventide.

“It’ll take us three days to reach Hollow Hill, my home,” Harroun explained, nibbling the raspberry ice Myrn had conjured a moment before. “Um! Delicious, my dear mistress ... er, Myrn! If you can cook like this, my son will have lost a perfect, beautiful, and talented first-wife!”

“I cannot lie to you, Harroun.” The Aquamancer laughed delightedly. “The whole dinner was prepared for us by a good friend and merely transported hither by a minor magic I mastered years ago. I’ll mention your pleasure to Blue Teakettle, who prepared it all, when I see her again—which I hope will be sooner rather than later, Douglas! It’s only twelve days until Summer Solstice, you realize.”

“We’re both closing in quickly on our goals.” Douglas smiled back at his wife. “Three days for you to reach the foothills, you say, honored sir?”

“Yes, and please ... call me Harroun,” insisted the desert chief. “I never did go much for all these courtly titles and honorifics. I’m a simple country man.”

“But have not always been such,” observed Cribblon. “I heard you say that you once served under the old Sultan alongside such notables as the chubby Port Master.”

“He was not always so overweight, nor as fond of strong drink,” said Harroun, shaking his head sadly.

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