The Silver Moon Elm (8 page)

“You could have warned me.”

“What? You’re the one who thought we were going across the lake, not through it. Anyway, it’s not like you had to hold your breath. The ring was protecting you.”

“Thanks for explaining it all so clearly. Are you going to fly us anywhere now, or do we just soak here for a while?”

Jennifer imitated her mother’s voice. “Watch your tone, young lady, or you’ll be swimming to shore.”

“Hmmph.”

They were on shore shortly, and under the gently swaying moon elms Elizabeth changed into dry jeans, a sweater, and a suede jacket.

“I guess it’s a pretty casual outfit for a diplomatic mission,” Jennifer apologized as her mother rummaged for a scarf and gloves.

“It’ll work fine, honey. Where’s your dad?”

“I imagine he’s been watching the moon for the signal from the venerables. He should be here soon.”

He was indeed, and watching him put his wings around her mom as she stared at the wonderful world around her was a sight Jennifer knew she’d never forget.

“Hey, Liz.”

“So this is the place.”

“This is the place.”

Jennifer felt awkward standing there. She took a short walk to give them some privacy, and by the time she came back, Elizabeth was wiping her face with the back of a glove. But they seemed ready to go.

“You need a ride?” she offered her mother again.

“Is it far? I’d rather walk.” Elizabeth turned up the collar of her suede jacket and walked over to a moon elm touched with traces of lichen. The cerulean glow lit up her glove as she softly touched the flakes and looked up at the vast network of slender branches. When she turned to her husband, her inscrutable expression was back in place.

“Have you ever seen the silver one here?”

He stepped up to his wife and held her hand. “No. I’ve never seen the silver one in this world.”

Jennifer cocked her head at the exchange. Silver?

“These are beautiful anyway,” Elizabeth said. “Come on, let’s walk.”

It was a little awkward for Jonathan—creeper dragons were not made for long walks. But they both agreed it was important for Elizabeth to feel as comfortable as possible—and she certainly felt more comfortable with both feet on the ground.

“I’ve ridden your father exactly three times,” she pointed out to Jennifer. “Always more his idea than mine.”

“Uh—”

“I enjoyed myself every time, but it was a relief when he let me get off.”

Jennifer shook her head as if warding off a bad odor. “Please don’t say things like that. It stings my eyes.”

The buzzing of fire hornets grew fainter as they went farther west.

“It’s just so—so—” Her mother groped for the right word. “Stunning. The sky and the grass and the air is so clear, it’s like wine you can breathe. I wonder if our earth used to smell like this? Before people screwed it up.”

“I’m glad you—”

“And the ground! It’s like walking on a mattress that goes on forever. And you know the very best, most wonderful thing?”

Jennifer cocked her head in amazement. Her mother, at this moment, the stern Dr. Georges-Scales, was glowing like a teen on prom night. “What, Mom?”

“That you and your father have finally shared it with me.” Impulsively, she hugged Jennifer and her husband.

Jonathan looked at Jennifer with the simple gratitude you showed for a person who pleased the love of your life. Of course, Jennifer realized, Mom would never have been allowed here, if it hadn’t been for me.

They rounded the edge of a grove and Jennifer said, “We should be there in a few more minutes. Now, Mom, there’s something you should know about some of these dragons. There’s this old dasher who—”

Suddenly she stopped.

“Oh,” Jonathan said. Then he coughed. Jennifer couldn’t even manage a cough.

There were two adult dashers there, drinking at a slow-moving stream. One, Jennifer had never seen before. Her scales were nearly black, with peach accents under the wings. Her tail had two prongs, like Jennifer’s, but it also had spikes running down both branches. The strange dasher’s gold-orange eyes were full of shock at the sight of the three intruders.

The other dasher, Jennifer knew.

Xavier Longtail’s triple-pronged tail twitched at the sight of them, but he did not budge. The other dasher finally moved first, advancing on Elizabeth with a fervor just short of a charge.

“Get out of here!” The woman’s voice was clear and powerful—an operatic alto tinged with the same arrogant tone Xavier could use. “You’re not wanted here!”

Elizabeth stepped back in alarm. Jonathan and Jennifer slid in front of her protectively. “This is my mother,” Jennifer announced as anxious blood rushed to her head. “She’s here as my guest.”

“I know who she is, Ambassador.” The last word came out bleeding with contempt. “She’s Elizabeth Georges, the beaststalker who murdered my father!”

“Ambassador.” Xavier’s tone was slightly more respectful. “I don’t believe you’ve met my niece, Ember Longtail.”

The revelation surprised Jennifer, but she recovered quickly. “I’m charmed,” she snapped. “Now back off.”

“Longtail…”

Jennifer turned when she heard how faint her mother sounded, and she immediately saw the whitening of the woman’s face. Her memory quickly went to the week before, when the Blaze had considered granting her mother sanctuary here in Crescent Valley. Despite the threat of Evangelina, the dragons were hesitant to do so—not least because of Xavier’s claim that his brother had died at Elizabeth’s hand.

“Yes, Longtail,” Ember spat out. “The dragon you performed your sick, depraved rite of passage upon.”

Jennifer’s thoughts flickered briefly to Eddie, and his half-hearted attempt to murder her. Of course, Elizabeth Georges would have been successful, in her own youth. When Mom tries something, she succeeds. I’ll bet it was brutal. Her stomach churned at the thought of her mother as a killer.

“She swore off that violence!” Jonathan pushed his wife farther behind him. “For years, she’s devoted her life to healing. She’s saved other dragons’ lives!”

“She killed twice after that!”

“Th-that’s not—sh-she…it was only in self-defense!” Jonathan sputtered—but Jennifer heard the desperation in his voice. He knew this would come back to haunt us, she guessed. “Two dragons ambushed her!”

“Ambushed us,” Elizabeth interrupted softly but firmly. “Jonathan, why—”

Jonathan ignored the interruptions. “They set upon her and she had to fight to survive.”

Elizabeth whirled upon her husband with a look Jennifer couldn’t understand. The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and then her mother turned to the dashers and cleared her throat. Jennifer knew her mother had a great deal of pride—perhaps too much to apologize. But she also knew her mother despised killing.

“Ms. Longtail. I don’t know what to say. If I could take back—”

The gust of flame that swept out of Ember Longtail’s mouth would have consumed Elizabeth if Jonathan had not wrapped his wings around her.

“Ember!” Even Xavier seemed alarmed at the attack.

Jennifer did not wait for the Elder’s help. She steeled herself and drove her head into Ember’s neck, snapping the latter’s jaws shut and sending them both tumbling to the ground. The sound of a tail whistling behind her head warned her in time to flinch, and the dasher’s tail spikes missed her narrowly.

“Why you…” She slapped her opponent’s tail down with her own. It was hard to tell in dragon shape how old this woman was—a little slow for a teenager, but not quite slow or powerful enough to be an Elder. Jennifer had never fought an adult dragon before, in any shape. She wasn’t sure if she was in over her head.

After several moments of rolling and wrestling (and making a pretty good showing, she thought), she felt her father’s wing claws on her shoulders and reluctantly scrambled to her hind legs. Xavier pulled up his niece at the same time, whispering harshly in her ear. But Ember broke free of her uncle’s grip and lunged at them both.

This time, it was her mother who intercepted the assault. Armed with nothing but her jeans, suede jacket, and leather gloves, Elizabeth slid between them all with hands held high.

“Okay, stop! You want me? Here I am! Just don’t—just please don’t fight each other anymore!”

“Mom!”

“Liz, get the hell back!”

Ember looked at them all in disgust. “You’re all pathetic,” she hissed with forked tongue. “The murderous beaststalker, the traitor who married her, and the atrocity they spawned together!”

Wind whistled in and out of Jennifer’s clenched teeth, and her hind legs kicked at the thick turf beneath, but her parents held her back. Somewhere in the distance, they could all hear the low, cellolike strumming of fire hornets. Xavier laid a dispassionate wing claw on his niece’s shoulder. “Ember. We should go.”

“No, they should go!” The younger dasher slapped her tail on the ground, sending moss and dirt flying. “They should go back to their own world, slink into the Pinegrove home they wrongly took for themselves, gorge themselves on sweets while sharing stories of the dragons they’ve hobbled or murdered, and then sleep in their stolen beds. That’s the beaststalker way.”

“I’ll be happy to show you the beaststalker way,” Jennifer spat between hisses. She was strongly tempted to shift back to two legs and stab the scaled cow in the jaw. “You want to go again?”

Ember ignored her and stepped closer to Elizabeth, seeped in the fumes of her own hatred. Still hissing breath through her teeth, Jennifer began to raise a protective wing, but her mother stood her ground.

“I hope you die,” Ember growled over the mounting sound of insects gathering, and then her voice rose to a scream. “I hope you all die for what you’ve done!”

Jennifer felt a strange surge ripple down her spine and tail—it was as if her muscles were racing each other. The noise of the fire hornets was louder than ever, and suddenly she saw a sight that almost made her scream.

A massive, shambling shape came crashing through the nearby brush. Twice as tall as any of them, it was the shape of a dragon—in fact, it suggested a nose horn and double-pronged tail similar to Jennifer’s—but it was certainly not a single creature. Rather, it was at least ten thousand fire hornets, each the size of a golf ball. That is, if golf balls were angry, furry, and black with distinctive violet markings.

The swarm moved together with purpose, careening toward the confrontation and spreading its shape to flaunt two furiously buzzing wings—

—and then it stepped right between the Scales and the Longtails, turned to face Ember, and roared at her in a chorus of fierce strums.

The dasher screamed and scrambled back into the wings of her uncle. Xavier’s golden eyes turned to Jennifer in panic.

“You’ve made your point, Ambassador! Call them off!”

Her jaw dropped. “Call them off? I didn’t call them on!”

“Actually, ace,” Jonathan murmured, “I think you did.”

“What?”

The droning cloud wheeled around and flexed its limbs, humming contentedly at its effect on the Longtails. Both dashers were backing away with a total lack of grace, unbecoming of such lithe shapes.

“As the Ancient Furnace, you probably have the powers of many Elders and ancestors,” her father explained as the swarm held position. “This would be one of them—power over certain insects, such as this land’s fire hornets.”

“How did I call them? Scratch that, I don’t care. How do I get rid of them?” She could make out the soft, hairy shapes of individual hornets. Each bug had an oozing nail dangling behind its abdomen. Those can’t possibly be stingers, she promised herself unconvincingly.

“Ummm…”

“You don’t know?”

“I’m not completely sure,” her father admitted. “It’s an Elder trampler skill, and not one I’ve seen performed too often.”

“Cripes, Dad!” In her fear, she could not hide her exasperation. “I can’t get you to stop lecturing when you’ve got some useless piece of dragon trivia to share—and now you don’t know? Now?!”

“Honey, maybe if you use your beaststalker—”

“No, Liz!” Jonathan interrupted harshly. “No one knows what will happen if she lets go of her dragon shape! Those things could swarm her in an instant. Jennifer, try blowing a bit of smoke their way first. They don’t like smoke.”

The black and violet blobs hovered ever larger in Jennifer’s face. “They don’t like smoke? Then why on earth would I use some to piss them off?!”

“Honestly, Jonathan.” Elizabeth snapped. “Talk about blowing smoke…”

“You’re not helping, Liz!”

“Neither are you…”

“Okay, fine. Jennifer, the swarm’s not moving. Just hang tight. I’ll go get Ned Brownfoot.”

Several tense minutes later, during which Jennifer, Elizabeth, Xavier, and Ember all managed to stare at each other and the swarm simultaneously without saying a word, Jonathan returned with an aged trampler in tow.

Ned Brownfoot was the trampler dragon who had taught Jennifer how to summon reptiles by stomping her foot. She smiled desperately at her gentle mentor as he took in the situation. His soft, crooked grin put her at ease.

“Sometimes, knowin’ a little is worse’n knowin’ nothin’ at all, amiright?” he drawled in a warm, southern Missouri accent.

“If you could just help us out, Ned…”

“Sure, Jon. But it’s gotta be Jenny here that does it. Her bugs, after all.”

“What do I do?”

“Call the queen to your nose horn.”

A growl of exasperation escaped. “Which one is the queen, and how the hell do I get her over on my nose horn? And why would I want a bug the size of a nectarine on my face, anyway?!”

Ned did not sound any less amused. “The swarm obeys the queen. The queen obeys you. She responded to your first call…she’ll respond to the same signal.”

“But I didn’t give a signal!”

“You whistled in ’n’ out a few times, when your life was in danger. Didn’tcha?”

“I-I-I have no idea!”

“Well, whistle through your teeth three or four more times, ’n’ see what happens.”

Bracing her forked tongue against her sharp teeth, Jennifer tried to re-create the hissing sound she thought she may have unconsciously made a while ago. It took a few tries, but eventually one of the swarm—easily the largest of the fire hornets—disengaged from the group and landed on her horn. Jennifer crossed her eyes and marveled at its size and the triple violet-stripe pattern lining its body. Cripes, I can see the tongue.