Fire and Blood

Chapter 29: The Queen of All Dragons

Crackclaw Point ― Bay of Crabs...

Vaelor flew across the sky over a mountainous plateau in Crackclaw Point, overlooked Brownhollow, and circled the Bay of Crabs. The Swiftrunner raised its snout to sniff the air, hissing as the dragon began descending. His wings flap before keeping them extended for a stable glide. Aeonar retained a firm grip on the saddle's harness as both dragon and rider flew closer to the ground as Vaelor came in for a landing. The Young Dragon suspected that this was the spot on the map, confirmed by the notion Vaelor had picked up a scent.

"*Grrrrrrr!*"

"Lyka sir, Valor. (Easy now, Vaelor.)" Aeonar dismounted.

Vaelor growled and stretched his wings. The dragon shook his head and surveyed the area. He continued sniffing the air, certain the scent carried by the wind originated from this exact location. Having a heightened sense of smell, a healthy dragon could smell certain creatures from miles away. But for some reason, the Swiftrunner was on edge about his surroundings. Senses are on high alert. Whatever it was he was detected, it made Vaelor feel uneasy.

"*Hiiiiiissss!*"

"Aōle lykēdan. (Be calm.)" Aeonar again commanded. He unveiled the map detailing the marked trajectory and flight patterns. The prince was sure they were in the right spot. You were elusive since my grandfather died. You gave my agents the slip for a while now, but you were bound to get caught eventually no matter where you went. "Now... let's go on a hunt, shall we?"

As Aeonar trod the sandy shores of the Bay of Crabs, Vaelor followed closely behind his rider. Turning his head left, then slowly to the right, the Swiftrunner knew they weren't alone. There was something here, and it was a big one. With each step, the dragon's spines along his neck and back stood up in a cautious display.

"*Ruuuuua!*"

"Gimin sko, Valor. Ziry kesīr mirriot. (I know, Vaelor. She's here somewhere.)" She knows she's not alone. Aeonar then felt himself trip over something in the sandy dunes. Looking down, he noticed his left foot was standing on the edge of a large footprint. Kneeling to the ground, the prince traced his fingers across the sand. His eyes examined the size of the footprint as well. "330 feet... she grew a bit. But it'll likely be her last one." Aeonar's nose then detected a faint, yet pungent smell nearby. Quickly approaching the source, he grasped a big pile of sand in his hand and brought it up to his nose. Smelling the sandy grain, Aeonar's face scrunched in disgust. "Eugh!" he gagged. "Yeah. These are scent markings, alright." According to the old texts, dragons in Old Valyria would mark their territory with these scents to keep people and other dragons away. Seven hells, dragons had few, if any, rivals at all. The only thing they could fear would be a larger dragon. But Vhagar was hatched on Dragonstone one-hundred seventy-eight years ago. Only Balerion himself was the last dragon from Old Valyria. It is possible, though, that memories could be genetically passed down from one generation to the next. Aeonar then looked up at Vaelor who stared down at him. Well, dragons are smart enough to figure out another one's age, sex, and size and, if necessary, to track them down based on these scent markings. I wonder...

"*Rooooooo.*"

"Ykynan kesir, Valor. (Smell this, Vaelor.)"

Vaelor leaned down, bringing his snout close to Aeonar's hand. He sniffed once, twice... but then the Swiftrunner quickly drew his head back, snorting before shaking his head. "*Gwuaaarr!*" he vocalized. Vaelor instinctively confirmed the scent marks belonged to an older, much larger dragon bigger than himself. A female!

"Kōttan ao rhēdan zirȳla? (Can you find her?)"

"*Grrrrrr!*" Vaelor growled and moved his front feet forward, then the next. His crimson-slitted eyes were particularly keen; able to maintain his focus on a moving target and had no trouble keeping a rival dragon within his line of sight. The Swiftrunner's sense of smell could detect prey from miles away but could also locate another dragon by its scent marks. Aeonar followed close behind, senses on high alert as well. Even though Vhagar was the ultimate prize, she was still the oldest and largest of all known living dragons. If they were to proceed into her territory, they'd have to be careful. Vaelor again tracked his target, nostrils flaring with each exhalation, but kept his eyes peeled for potential ambushes.