Rheba sighed, they were back on Onan. Of all the places in the Yhelle Equality, they had to come back here. The last time, she and Kirtn had ended up as slaves. Of course, that was before the battle with the ecstasy stones... But at least this time they were managing to keep their noses clean. They still had a shipful of former slaves to return to their home worlds, but at least their illusionist friends had made sure that they had some currency this time. Rheba stretched, looking around for her Bre’n. Not spotting his hulking, silken furred frame anywhere in the chaos of Onan’s boardwalk, she surreptitious let her hair lift and draw in the residual energy that overflowed from the glitzy casinos and gambling houses lining the street. She was a fair distance away from the beginning of the avenue, at the spaceport actually, but she was one of the best fire dancers alive, the only one actually and had drawn energy from cold rock when the need arose. Bleeding a little stray energy to power the Devalon so that they did not incur exorbitant spaceport fees was child’s play. Fssa, curled around the base of her neck extruded one of his many forms of communication and whistled in Bre’n. “Aahh, it is so nice to be warm again fire dancer! When does Kirtn return? The J/taal are getting restless –“ Fssa’s melodious words were snatched away as a blast of air so cold it stole your breath exploded over them. With the hurricane of frigid air appeared an enormous beast. Sinuous and graceful, it backwinged a few times before settling lightly to the ground a bare dragonslength away from the silvery Senyas ship.
The usually unflappable Snake fell silent, allowing Rheba to concentrate as she instinctively began to weave energy for defense. Neither Senyas nor Fssirrimee had ever seen a dragon. Nor had they ever encountered intelligent life of such large proportions. “What happened Snake? Where did that thing come from? It just appeared!! I sensed no transfer energy or translocation fields,” demanded Rheba frantically, her akhenet flaring as she positioned herself between the enormous bulk of the creature and the sleek shape of the Devalon behind her. She glanced anxiously at the spaceport entrance. If there was a fight, she needed to know where her akhenet was. She could dance alone if she had too, but she could fight better if Kirtn were there, not to mention the fact that she ran the risk of injuring him in the onslaught.
Drak’s enormous opalescent eye regarded Rheba calmly. Suddenly Rheba let go of all the energy she had gathered. “Rheba! What is wrong?” demanded Fssa in the precise Senyas language, the sharp tone demanding an answer. Not a word had been exchanged between the slim Senyas and the formidable, scaled creature looming over them, but Rheba had taken on an unfocused, bemused expression.
“His name is Drak,” murmured Rheba, “He says he needs our help. Oh, and he has brought his dragonrider, Giljaras with him.” The Fssirrimee, who was undoubtedly the largest storehouse of languages in the known galaxy hissed in exasperation. “It did not say anything! None of my sensors picked up any sounds on any wavelength. No vocal vibrations have emanated from it all!!” Fssa underwent a series of rapid transformations, rescanning for communication in any form.
“She can hear dragons?” said Gil incredulously, sliding from his seat upon Drak’s neck to stand beside his dragon. “She reminds me of Lessa of Pern. Do no dismiss her, she channels great power, but part of her seems to be missing at the moment... The absence of her dragon.”
“It’s alright Fssa. He won’t harm us.” Said Rheba in a soft whisper that only carried as far as the dense form curled in her hair. “It seems to have Psi abilities. They are on a quest to save their homeworld.” Only the barest quiver, detectable only to the highly sensitive ears of Fssa betrayed how close to home the concept was. No wonder she had let down her guard so easily.
“Having quite the conversation with her aren’t you?” remarked Giljaras dryly. “Mind making the introductions?”
By the time Kirtn returned to the Spaceport, Rheba and Drak were fast friends. Gil, on the periphery of the action for once observed silently, offering comments via Drak every once in a while. Rheba had been apprised of their quest. The sheen of tears in her eyes bespoke her empathy. At least their world still lived. There was hope for them. Her homeworld of Deva had been consumed by its own sun; scorching her world, her people, her friends and family in a fiery display. The last moments of Deva’s dying sun were forever engraved in her mind, reminding her that she should be grateful that she was no longer part of the last akhenet pair alive.
“Your dragon approaches.” Said Drak softly in Rheba’s mind. “My dragon? I have none!” replied Rheba with a laugh. But as she turned to watch Kirtn stride lithely towards them, she realized with a start that she and Kirtn were indeed bonded as closely, if not more, as a dragon pairing. Drak had no other term for akhenet but dragon. Yes, Kirtn was her dragon, and she was his. An unconscious smile glowed brightly on Rheba’s face and the long strands of her hair drifted toward the approaching figure, like arms reaching in welcome.
Drak’s bulk was concealed in the shadows of the ship, his tail curled around the ramp and his eyes gleaming dully from the gloom. In the uncertain light of twilight, the presence of a dragon could not be determined at all. Except by the exceptional senses of a Bre’n. Kirtn’s golden eyes were narrowed within the mask of silken fur on his face. His enormous bulk towered over Gil and Rheba. Had it not been for the tender, unguarded smile upon Rheba’s face that she bestowed only upon him, Kirtn would not have approached a decidedly dangerous and unknown creature lurking in the darkness beyond the lights so nonchalantly.
“I take it that we have guests.” He said in Universal, the commercial language of the Equality, as he walked up to Rheba and assumed his customary position behind her, with his hands cupping her shoulders. His lambent gold eyes took in Gil and Drak in a glance. After their experiences at the hands of the Loo-Chim, then again on the planet Luck and just recently on the Yhelle Illusionist homeworld, he was rightfully wary of strangers appearing at their ship. “Where are the J/taals?” he continued, referring to the band of mercenaries that usually protected Rheba, his distrust of Drak and Gil modulated into a monotone.
Rheba, momentarily lost in the sensations of warmth and security that Kirtn’s mere presence evoked, didn’t respond immediately to Kirtn’s unspoken request for an explanation. In addition, she had not yet decided if she could honor the request Gil bore – to help him save his besieged homeworld. And even if she did agree, would Kirtn? And what of the shipload of former slaves they had liberated from Loo? She and Kirtn had promised to return them to their homeworlds. But how could she and Kirtn turn their back on someone trying to save their people? Wouldn't they have done anything for a chance to save Deva and the entire Bre'n and Senyas races?
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