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When Rastag awoke, he joined a circle of Dardans: some getting re-acquainted; some meeting for the first time. Abarōz was relieved to see a host of five Axwaš taking care of the babes.
“Well,” she said to Shāhpuhr, as they wandered down to the river, “now we have both dragons and Aswārs. What next?”
“If I know my mother,” he answered, “lots and lots of training.”
“My father will be so happy.”
They both exchanged a grin as Bükrek came slithering up.
“All is well?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you,” Abarōz said with emotion. “For saving my father and all the others.”
“I only did what was right.”
“If you don’t mind my asking,” said Abarōz, trying not to sound too curious, “where do we go from here?”
“I believe,” Bükrek told her, “we need more than dragons and Aswārs. Surely Sangal will not sit still until he’s gathered more allies.”
“What did you have in mind?” asked Abarōz. “Are there more clever creatures here? Like the talking tree man?”
Bükrek shook her head sadly.
“I fear not.”
“Well . . . what about other places? Gehān is said to be large.”
“It is indeed,” the green dragon said. “And crossed with zands and creatures who are either fearsome or friendly.”
“I say,” said Shāhpuhr, “we try to find the last kind.”
His mother smiled.
“I will think on it. In the meantime, try to rest. We must all be at our best.”
Abarōz and Shāhpuhr treaded back to the clearing where she saw her father. As this eventful day would soon give way to night, she nodded to his friends, then took his elbow to lead him.
“Father. May I sleep by your side tonight?”
“Of course. I would welcome it.”
She gave him her blanket as Shāhpuhr stirred a fire. Before long, they were all sprawled out on the grass. Rastag must still be weary for he was the first to close his eyes, and the rhythm of his breathing, even his dreaded snores, made Abarōz feel she was home. Now that he was free of the S̆āh, he did seem less jittery: no more peering around every corner fearing a spy would jump out.
If he could only, Abarōz thought, commit himself to their cause, her world would be near-perfect. Of course, with Shāhpuhr on the other side of the fire, she didn’t have far to go!
She fell into a tranquil sleep roughly interrupted by something poking her shoulder.
“Go away,” she mumbled, turning. The annoying prods continued.
“What?” she snapped, her lids fluttering open.
“Come,” said Shāhpuhr, reaching out a hand. “My mother wishes to speak to us.”
“She keeps strange hours,” Abarōz yawned, rising with his help to stretch the sleep from her limbs. It must be well into the night, the silver light of Māh embracing their silent camp. Shāhpuhr led her over the clearing to where his mother stood.
“I am sorry to disturb you,” said Bükrek, “but I told you I would think on it.”
“And you have?”
Abarōz suppressed another yawn.
“Yes. I can hardly keep secrets from my son or the hero of Dardan.”
Abarōz blushed down to her chest.
“Surely you don’t mean me!”
“You are the one who inspired this rebellion. Never forget who you are.”
Abarōz fought a silent battle: Was she really that girl in gold plate, the one who rallied the zarran; Or a maid of Dardan, lately afraid to talk to a boy?
She blinked, trying to pay attention.
“—Old legends,” Bükrek was saying, “of a dark land to the north. It lies far beyond Sangal and is said to harbor strange creatures, unknown to all but the gods. There is the myth of the Erbörü, savage men with the power to turn into wolves. Even as an immortal, I have never set eyes upon them.”
What was she going on about? A distant lands and wolves? Abarōz hoped that the dragon hadn’t let time-spinning break her. Even Shāhpuhr seemed skeptical.
“But mother,” he asked, “how can these Erbörü help us?”
Exactly. They might not even exist.
Bükrek folded her claws.
“They would be a powerful ally. And, I have a sense that wolves lie in our future.”
“Are we not descended from them?” asked Shāhpuhr.
“Yes, but keep that to yourself. Men do not like to hear about an animal ancestor.”
Abarōz rolled her eyes. This meant nothing to her, but the wolves of the north surely did.
“Bükrek,” she questioned, “what if these wolf people tear us apart? There is nothing to stop them.”
“The Erbörü,” said the dragon, “were exiled eons past. No others on Gehān will suffer their presence.”
Abarōz found herself feeling bad for them.
“That’s unkind.”
“I heard some time ago that they wished to rejoin the world. Whether or not they still feel the same is something unknown to me.”
“So . . .” Abarōz stood and thought. “You’re saying that if we offer them a way out, they might fight on our side?”
Bükrek smiled, sharp teeth on display.
“You are clever,” she told Abarōz, “but do not let it lead you to trouble.”
“Too late.”
“Mother,” asked Shāhpuhr, “do you mean to send a party north?”
“I do,” she sighed. “In order to conquer Sangal, we must expand our reach.”
Abarōz saw Bükrek’s face shining with bands of moonlight. The dragon had been a great friend, her city’s foremost champion. Who was she, a girl of Dardan, to oppose one of her world’s creators?
“I’ll go,” she said slowly.
“Oh no,” protested Shāhpuhr, “this journey is not for you.”
“Do you intend,” Abarōz asked, “to venture so far by yourself? To a land so little known?”
“Abaxtar,” he whispered. “I have heard the name.”
“And that equips you to go?” Abarōz was furious, placing her hands on her hips. “Since you know the name, you will surely proceed in safety?”
“No,” Shāhpuhr huffed, “but I will feel much better knowing you are kept safe.”
Abarōz snorted.
“That is far more absurd than an edict of your father’s! You will ‘feel better’ if you put yourself in more danger?”
Bükrek, who’d been watching this discourse as if they traded blows, decided to intervene.
“That is enough,” she said. “My son, your feelings are honorable, but you cannot do this alone. If Abarōz wishes, she must be allowed to go.”
In a sudden fit of pique, Abarōz stuck out her tongue.
“Best put that back,” groused Shāhpuhr, “or you might lose it.”
Abarōz crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes.
“That’s settled then.” Abarōz turned to Bükrek. “When should we leave?”
“At sunrise.”
Based on the lightening sky, that shouldn’t be too much longer.
“Come on,” she bid Shāhpuhr, taking his hand in hers. “Let us sleep while we can.”
He grumbled something as they both returned to the fire. But he must have felt forgiving since he tossed her a blanket.
“Thanks.” Once they lay down, side by side, she extended an edge so it covered him too. “Truce?” she asked.
He rolled over to face her.
“I was not angry,” he said, so close she could feel his breath. “But from what I’ve heard of Abaxtar, it is not a place for a girl.”
Abarōz wrenched herself up.
“So that’s your real objection? I should go back to cooking and cleaning—make sure I have a large dowry so I can attract a husband?!”
He put an arm on her shoulder.
“Of course not! I only meant—”
“That girls have no place in war. Now that I know how you feel, I’ll be sure not to get in your way.”
She seized back the blanket, wrapping herself in its layers.
“Abarōz,” Shāhpuhr whispered. “We both know you’re a fierce fighter. You learned to be an Aswār in just one day!”
“Hmmp.” Abarōz still felt upset, but wanted to hear him say “Sorry.” “Go on.”
“Must I? You’ve fought in two battles, infiltrated two cities, and gone up against ebrens. What I said about Abaxtar—I just don’t want to see you hurt. I . . . I’ve come to care for you.”
Abarōz felt a shiver.
“Really?”
She rolled toward him in her cocoon.
“Yes.”
Shāhpuhr unraveled the blanket enough to reveal her neck. He covered it with light kisses, working up to her jaw, then her lips.
He bit down gently on her bottom one, causing her to whimper. Encouraged, he brushed his tongue against her teeth, and she let him in, reveling in the sensation. This could have gone on until dawn if she hadn’t remembered Rastag across the fire from them.
“Shāhpuhr!” she hissed, pushing against his chest. “We mustn’t. My . . . my father.”
He groaned, then changed his position so they were back to front.
It was going to be a long night.
