Moth watched him go, slipping quietly through the trees toward the riverbank.
“He’s hiding something,” Moth whispered. Fiona stumbled past him, her skin a little less green now. “You all right?”
“I’m great, Moth,” she groaned. She dropped into the grass, scrunching up and using her hands for a pillow. “Just great…”
Moth sat down cross-legged next to her. Lady Esme hopped closer to him. He checked nervously for the Starfinder, feeling it in his coat pocket.
“Is this something or what?” he chuckled. “We were really flying!”
“I feel like I’m going to die.”
“That’ll pass. Happens to Skyknights all the time. You’re airsick.”
Through the trees, he could just make out Merceron by the river. The dragon looked repeatedly over his shoulder as he drank from the running water. His body dragged against the ground, about to collapse.
“Look at him,” said Moth. “He can’t go on anymore. Not today. We should stop here for the night.”
Fiona barely nodded. “Excellent idea.”
“We can start clearing away some of these branches.”
“I need a minute.”
Moth smiled. Despite her complaining, he was proud of Fiona. Not many people could fly a dragon all day. They were probably the only two ever to do so.
“He’s not telling us much, huh?” said Moth.
Fiona finally managed to lift herself onto an elbow. She studied Merceron through the trees. “He’s afraid of the Skylords.”
“I guess so,” said Moth, but they hadn’t seen even a hint of the Skylords yet.
“I don’t trust him.” Fiona’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe we should go on by ourselves.”
“That’s stupid. We don’t even know where to go.”
“We’ve got the Starfinder.”
“What, walk?” Moth shook his head “Stupid.”
“How do we know where he’s taking us? Just where is Taurnoken anyway?”
Moth couldn’t answer. Only Merceron had answers. He got up and brushed the dirt from his backside. “Stay here with Esme, all right?”
Fiona waved as he headed for Merceron. The river bubbled musically over the rocks. He found Merceron lying on its pebbly shore, his long snout partially in the water. The dragon could barely lift his head. He rolled an eye toward Moth.
“Just a little longer,” he said. “We’ll get going again soon.”
When he was up in the air, Merceron looked masterful. But down on the ground he just looked old.
“I think we’ll stay here for the night,” said Moth. “Look at you—you can’t go any further. And Fiona…” He turned to see up through the trees, where Fiona was sprawled on the ground. “She’s not much good for anything right now.”
“She doesn’t like me much, does she?” remarked Merceron.
Moth didn’t want to lie or hurt the dragon’s feelings. “She just doesn’t know you, that’s all.”
“She doesn’t trust me. That’s what happens when children are abandoned. They stop trusting.”
“I trust you,” said Moth.
“Why?”
“Because Leroux told me to.”
The answer made the dragon smile. “What about Rendor? Was he cruel to Fiona?”
“No, not really,” said Moth honestly. “He just kind of ignores her. That’s what hurts her most. He just doesn’t care about her.”
“Wrong. All parents love their children, and their children’s children.”
Moth examined the dragon. “Why don’t you come away from the water? We’ll make a place for the night.”
“I can’t,” groaned Merceron. “Not yet. I ache, boy. My bones…”
“Just like Leroux. He used to get all achy that way, too. That’s rheumatism. Everyone gets it when they’re old. You gotta keep moving, keep the joints from grinding to a halt.”
“I’ve been moving all day,” sneered Merceron. “What else you got?”
Moth climbed up the dragon’s side. “I used to give Leroux rubdowns when he was achy. Where does it hurt? Here?”
Gently he dug his palms against the scaly flesh, running them along the muscles of the creature’s wing.
“Oh!” Merceron cried. “Oh…”
Merceron’s whole body deflated. He moaned contentedly.
“Yeah, this’ll help you,” said Moth, remembering all the times he’d done the same for Leroux. A flood of memories came at him suddenly. He’d been there for Leroux when he could, hadn’t he?
“You know, you could help Fiona trust you if you talked a bit more,” Moth suggested. “We hardly know anything about you. And what about Taurnoken? You never tell us anything about your home.”
“You can’t tell a human about Taurnoken. It’s too beautiful for words.”
“Will we be there soon?”
“We’ll follow the river from here,” said Merceron. “That feels wonderful, Moth. Don’t stop…”
Moth’s hands moved along the dragon’s spine. “I’m sure the other dragons will help us when we get there,” he said. “They’ll remember you and want to help.”
“They’ll remember me, all right.”
“They’ll probably celebrate! Didn’t you talk to anyone while you were hiding?”
“Not dragons,” said Merceron.
“No family? No one?”
Merceron tensed. “Are you hungry? Maybe we should eat.”
“You don’t want to talk about this, do you?”
“Bright boy.”
Moth worked quietly, asking no more questions. He rubbed and rubbed the dragon’s aching muscles. Within minutes, Merceron was sleeping.
STARGAZING
AS THE SUN WENT DOWN in the valley, so did the temperature. Moth and Fiona cleared a place amid the grass, using the sticks and branches they’d gathered to build what looked like a nest around them. Merceron lit a fire with his fingers, then surprised the others by making the flames dance into the forms of animals. Soon the moon came out, and then the stars. Moth fed Lady Esme from the supplies they’d brought from Merceron’s lair. Together they huddled in the light of the fire, munching on strips of dried meat while the dragon entertained them. Each of them had napped, and now, as midnight came, they were all wide awake.
Fiona remained quiet, but managed to smile at the bird Merceron made from the fire. Using his claws, he drew in the air to let the bird take flight before disappearing. Lady Esme watched the thing, fascinated. Moth gently scratched her feathered head.
The Starfinder sat on the grass in front of him, its mirror blank, its levers and scope unmoving. Moth gazed up as he bit into an apple, marveling at a sky absolutely pregnant with stars. Being on the run had given him precious little time for stargazing. He picked up the Starfinder, noting the patterns etched into its gleaming metal, trying to match them to the ones twinkling overhead.
“Merceron,” he said softly, “do you know all the constellations?”
Merceron took his pipe from his pocket. “Most of them,” he said as he emptied the dottle onto the ground. Moth liked watching Merceron light his pipe, because he always made a show of it. Carefully the dragon packed the bowl with fresh tobacco, then produced a flame at the tip of a long fingernail. He moved the flame in a circular motion around the bowl, puffing gently. Then he let out a long, relaxed breath and leaned back. “Point one out to me,” he said. “I’ll tell you what it’s called.”
Moth had already chosen one, a constellation he had seen engraved on the Starfinder. “There,” he said. “That one looks like an airship to me.”
“Close. That’s the Gothrol, the ship of dreams.” Smoke drifted lazily out of Merceron’s nose. “A ship that can travel anywhere—seas, mountaintops, deserts. They say if you fall asleep aboard Gothrol, you’ll wake up in whatever place you dreamed of going.”