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acchikocchiAnd, inevitably, my two current sources of reading material collide. Don't ask, because I won't be able to answer. (Actually, I'm not sure if there's any on the flist who would get this in the first place. XD) Though it's been long enough since I've written anything that I should probably just be grateful.
David's first memory was of flight: a formation of dragons bound for Tenerife, miniature colored arrows darting across the searing blue sky. Any early memories of Tenerife itself had been supplanted by the one -- a view across the water of the harbor bristling with ships and the sky black with powder, and above it a sinuous red curve, silhouetted against the blaze, opening its mouth to unleash a jet of flame.
Scarely a month had passed before they were calling it the Battle of Santa Cruz de Tenerife; David, not yet eight years of age, had not understood. He knew only that he woke each night from fearful dreams of smoke and fire and the heavy boom of artillery, weeping with terror, calling for his mother with a voice that would not come.
Yet here he was, not a dozen years later, hunkering down in scrubby mountains hundreds of miles from his home, plotting against an enemy that had been an ally, on behalf of the ships that had burned the harbor. And if that were not enough --
There was a rush of air, as if to signal a great movement overhead. "What are you brooding about now?" came a low, irritable rumble just above his head.
David turned his face up and smiled. "Oh," he said, "it is nothing."
Guaje snorted. A small tongue of flame shot from his snout and scorched the bare earth next to where David sat.
"Truly," David insisted. "I was only thinking on yesterday's raid."
This was meant to distract, and Guaje nearly took the bait; he had acquitted himself particularly well and had preened almost incessantly since. But then he narrowed his eyes and swung his head down to examine David more closely. "You don't look very happy about it."
Damn. "I am," David protested. "Captain Albelda says it will be several days at the least before Bonaparte's brother in the capital realizes what has gone wrong, and where, and by then we will have struck the line again." It was remarkable how skeptical a dragon could appear, David thought as Guaje continued to watch him; then inspiration seized him. "It is only, the French outpost had no dragons -- their supplies will not last us more than a few days, at the very most."
"Yes," Guaje said smugly, "they were not expecting me." He stretched his sleek, red-tipped wings and shook them once; whether in restlessness or in pride, David could not tell. "Do not trouble yourself overmuch. Unlike some creatures of my acquaintance, I have no need cattle every morning and evening. I hunt very well for myself."
It was on the tip of David's tongue to ask whether Guaje intended to do so without setting the forest alight for every French soldier within ten leagues to see, and also about his thoughts on the meaning of the word "stealth", but he elected instead to make a sort of placatory murmuring noise. Undoubtedly Guaje could be very stealthy when he put a mind to it, after all; though David did not know precisely how long he had evaded both the royal regiment from which he had escaped and the occupying French forces, either feat was to be commended, especially for a creature of Guaje's size and particular talents.
Perhaps he should suggest to Albelda that they consider -- but the sight, to a French soldier, of Guaje roaring down breathing fire and destruction was undoubtedly effective, and he took such evident pleasure in doing so that David hardly had the heart to ask him to do otherwise.
He had chosen to stay with David, after all. The thought still kindled a palpable warmth in David's chest.
There was another a whoosh of air and David was suddenly confronted with a large, gleaming black eye. Guaje's eyes were like onyx, David had thought several times before, or jet -- He held the unblinking gaze until Guaje said, suspiciously, "Are you certain you're not brooding."
David gave him another smile, more genuine this time. "I am certain."
Guaje reared back, a huge curving bulk of red and black and cream. "At this rate," he said, "we'll have them running in months. Then you can go home. Just leave it to me." His tail lashed, and abruptly he leaned down and nudged his nose roughly against David's shoulder.
Months ago, the strength of it would have set David stumbling backwards. Now he found he was smiling wide enough to split his face. "I am in no particular hurry. Come," he said to Guaje, getting to his feet, "let's find you something to eat."
Notes:
1. Villa is a Flecha-del-Fuego. Just in case you were wondering.
2. After most of the country got fed up with Napoleon anointing his brother King of Spain, Asturias was the first province to revolt. Then guerilla warfare was born. For real!
David's first memory was of flight: a formation of dragons bound for Tenerife, miniature colored arrows darting across the searing blue sky. Any early memories of Tenerife itself had been supplanted by the one -- a view across the water of the harbor bristling with ships and the sky black with powder, and above it a sinuous red curve, silhouetted against the blaze, opening its mouth to unleash a jet of flame.
Scarely a month had passed before they were calling it the Battle of Santa Cruz de Tenerife; David, not yet eight years of age, had not understood. He knew only that he woke each night from fearful dreams of smoke and fire and the heavy boom of artillery, weeping with terror, calling for his mother with a voice that would not come.
Yet here he was, not a dozen years later, hunkering down in scrubby mountains hundreds of miles from his home, plotting against an enemy that had been an ally, on behalf of the ships that had burned the harbor. And if that were not enough --
There was a rush of air, as if to signal a great movement overhead. "What are you brooding about now?" came a low, irritable rumble just above his head.
David turned his face up and smiled. "Oh," he said, "it is nothing."
Guaje snorted. A small tongue of flame shot from his snout and scorched the bare earth next to where David sat.
"Truly," David insisted. "I was only thinking on yesterday's raid."
This was meant to distract, and Guaje nearly took the bait; he had acquitted himself particularly well and had preened almost incessantly since. But then he narrowed his eyes and swung his head down to examine David more closely. "You don't look very happy about it."
Damn. "I am," David protested. "Captain Albelda says it will be several days at the least before Bonaparte's brother in the capital realizes what has gone wrong, and where, and by then we will have struck the line again." It was remarkable how skeptical a dragon could appear, David thought as Guaje continued to watch him; then inspiration seized him. "It is only, the French outpost had no dragons -- their supplies will not last us more than a few days, at the very most."
"Yes," Guaje said smugly, "they were not expecting me." He stretched his sleek, red-tipped wings and shook them once; whether in restlessness or in pride, David could not tell. "Do not trouble yourself overmuch. Unlike some creatures of my acquaintance, I have no need cattle every morning and evening. I hunt very well for myself."
It was on the tip of David's tongue to ask whether Guaje intended to do so without setting the forest alight for every French soldier within ten leagues to see, and also about his thoughts on the meaning of the word "stealth", but he elected instead to make a sort of placatory murmuring noise. Undoubtedly Guaje could be very stealthy when he put a mind to it, after all; though David did not know precisely how long he had evaded both the royal regiment from which he had escaped and the occupying French forces, either feat was to be commended, especially for a creature of Guaje's size and particular talents.
Perhaps he should suggest to Albelda that they consider -- but the sight, to a French soldier, of Guaje roaring down breathing fire and destruction was undoubtedly effective, and he took such evident pleasure in doing so that David hardly had the heart to ask him to do otherwise.
He had chosen to stay with David, after all. The thought still kindled a palpable warmth in David's chest.
There was another a whoosh of air and David was suddenly confronted with a large, gleaming black eye. Guaje's eyes were like onyx, David had thought several times before, or jet -- He held the unblinking gaze until Guaje said, suspiciously, "Are you certain you're not brooding."
David gave him another smile, more genuine this time. "I am certain."
Guaje reared back, a huge curving bulk of red and black and cream. "At this rate," he said, "we'll have them running in months. Then you can go home. Just leave it to me." His tail lashed, and abruptly he leaned down and nudged his nose roughly against David's shoulder.
Months ago, the strength of it would have set David stumbling backwards. Now he found he was smiling wide enough to split his face. "I am in no particular hurry. Come," he said to Guaje, getting to his feet, "let's find you something to eat."
Notes:
1. Villa is a Flecha-del-Fuego. Just in case you were wondering.
2. After most of the country got fed up with Napoleon anointing his brother King of Spain, Asturias was the first province to revolt. Then guerilla warfare was born. For real!
