Summer lounged high on the blue peaks to the north, glorifying in the warm sunlight it bathed in at that time of year. In the distant south, the vibrant greens were already turning, robing the lush valleys in swathes of royal gold and scarlet as, spent from gorging themselves on the sun, the trees closed down for the onslaught of winter. And the dragons' cave was above all of this, watching aloof as the seasons smoothly changed.



The hatchlings were fast reaching the age when they would first fly, they could all breath flame, whether it be Drethse's inferno or Rhehala's small lick of fire. Eagerly they tested their wings on the precipice of the cave, guarded carefully by one parent while the other hunted.



Now, Hanorh lay basking in the high sunshine, right on the edge of the cliff, his body acting as a barrier between his children and the rather large drop below. He lazed with one eye open, watching them as they scrambled up through the rocks to ambush each other or explore. Rhehala stayed close to the cave mouth, but, being small, he could fit into crevices the others couldn't, and so the games of chase they often played round the outcroppings of rock would turn into hide-and-seek. Seshkra often took up a sentinel position above her siblings, eyes focussed on the horizon or else on the best chance for pouncing on Handreth and the others. Drethse and Khrath, forever rivals, could be heard squeaking from a while away. Yes, everything was well, and the large silver drake found himself nodding off.



A warning squawk from Rhehala, who was quick to detect any small change in the world, sent all seven hatchlings ducking for the cover of their father, who raised himself faster than should be possible for such a large creature. They clustered beneath his scaled belly as he glared out on the world, wings half unfurled and tail swaying dangerously. He was ready to shoot fire at anything to come within forty feet.



A high shriek sounded from above, the direction of the sun. Hanorh couldn't see the thing that was laughing at him, so he growled at it. Whatever it was let out the shrieking laughter again.



'Show yourself!' the drake growled. 'Lest I loose my fire on you.'



A dark shadow looped across the sun before wheeling away again. 'Do you promise not to flame me anyway? Dragons are so paranoid.' Whatever it was spoke a language that wasn't quite drakine, but similar to it, so it just sounded to the hatchlings like a drake with a high voice who over pronounced the vowels. Hanorh seemed to recognise the voice though.



'Ayaar!' he roared in greeting. 'What are you doing here, you old featherbrain? Swoop low and meet my hatchlings, if your talons deign to touch the ground!'



'Always so polite,' the thing called Ayaar's voice replied sarcastically. His shadow passed in front of the sun again, growing larger and more defined. It looked vaguely dragon-shaped, but without a tail or long neck, and no scales glinted on his flanks.



An enormous golden eagle alighted on the rock as regally as a dragon, ruffling his feathers prudently as he folded his wings. Despite his tiny size, being smaller than the hatchlings, perched upon his rock Ayaar looked just as fierce as Hanorh, especially when his head turned to better survey the hatchlings. They all shrank slightly from his piercing gaze. He turned to the silver.



'So it is true,' he said in his strange lilt. 'The pride of the southern skies soared north and started a family. The breeze says you tamed the Northern Star.'



'It would be impossible to tame Aurha,' Hanorh replied with love.



'Perhaps that opinion is why she mated with you,' the eagle replied dryly. 'But what a far cry this is from the plentiful marches of the south.'



'It is polite for guests to be introduced before they start complaining, Ayaar,' Hanorh said with the merest hint of irritation, even though he smiled.



Ayaar cocked his head slightly. 'Of course. Then introduce me, and stop playing host so badly,' he laughed. A second later he took flight with an indignant shriek as Hanorh flamed the bare rock beside him.



'This is my first clutch; Handreth, Seshkra, Drethse, Khrath, Iissell, Threha and Rhehala,' Hanorh said proudly, puffing himself up to his full height, which was considerable. 'My hatchlings, meet Ayaar, the lord of the eagles in the south.'



'Alas, lord no more,' Ayaar cut in. 'A young upstart named Aeekaar supplanted me,' he said bitterly, ruffling his neck feathers again. 'He had no honour in doing it either. He and his mate attacked me when I was separate from mine, and they did the same to her.'



'How is Akeeraa?' Hanorh asked with concern. The sad droop of Ayaar's magnificent wings answered. His mate had been killed. The silver felt an overwhelming surge of pity for his old friend; even imagining what he would do if Aurha was killed was too painful to think about. There was silence.



'Excuse me, but how do you know Father?' Rhehala asked suddenly, gazing at the eagle with awe. Ayaar looked affronted and ruffled his feathers. 'Do you mean to tell me, young drake, that your sire has never mentioned me? Not even in passing?' Rhehala shook his head.



'He never said anything about the south,' piped up Threha, who liked a story and could sense one coming.



'Threha,' Hanorh chided, gazing down at his youngest daughter. But the damage had been done, and the eagle was already settling down on his rock and beginning to tell the story.



'The south is a fascinating place, with no mountains except an indistinct blur on the horizon,' Ayaar began, 'and the plains are filled to bursting with prey. There, humans are few and are more primitive, and so creatures like dragons can thrive and not live in hiding. There are so many that they must pay respect to each other, and live as wolves do – with a hierarchy. The strongest lead and the weaker follow. Your father's sire is Hyeorh, who traces his lineage back to Krahye; his mother is Alassell, a drakka with azure scales. They are the mightiest dragons in that part of the world. Hanorh here was the first born of their third clutch, and was considered the most handsome so far of Hyeorh's hatchlings. Unfortunately, he was born without a sense of direction.'



Here the eagle paused and looked amusedly at the large silver, who was trying to look bored and disinterested. If he had been human he would have been blushing. His tail twitched.



'Hanorh grew with delusions of grandeur. For fifteen turns of summer he remained like a crowned prince believing he was invincible. When he went out flying once, he ignored the weather signs of an approaching storm and presently got himself lost amongst the thunderheads. I saw him flying in circles and led him towards shelter. The mighty Hanorh has been indebted to this humble eagle since then.' The eagle peered amusedly at the large drake, recalling the scene with perfect clarity.



'I would hardly call you humble, featherbrain,' Hanorh muttered.



'Even so,' Ayaar replied. 'You still owe me a favour. I came north partially looking for you, and partly looking for new skies. I would rather not have to pass over those mountains,' he continued, glancing north. Blizzards were terribly uncomfortable.



'There is plenty of game here,' Hanorh said, knowing that sooner or later his old friend would ask to stay. 'But find your own aerie.'



'Of course.'



'There are a few eagles near here, but I've never seen them,' Hanorh said, glancing to the west. 'The sun's setting. You should find somewhere to roost.'



Ayaar, knowing his old friend well enough to know he had overstayed his welcome, bowed his head and took off, the rush of his wings creating a palpable wind that bent the sparse weeds growing on the lip of the cliff. Hanorh watched him go with his eye ridges slightly drawn together, his mood unreadable.



'Would you go back to the south, Father?' Rhehala asked, breaking him from his thoughts.



'My place is here, with you. Besides, life is more interesting with Aurha around. Perhaps when you are grown and go roaming, you will go south for yourself.'



'Really Father?'



'Really. Now inside, the air is getting cold.' He shooed them all into the dark safety of the cave with his nose, ignoring their loud protestations.