Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) Page 7

  She followed the voice using a hand to steady her feet. Was she in a tunnel? She’d been in one many times, a hidden passage in the citadel. Was she there? She had escaped. The air grew warmer and felt like simmer. Moisture gathered in the air, but she reveled in the warmth. ‘Undress.’

  The voice again. ‘Who speaks.’

  ‘Dragon.’

  ‘Why must I remove my clothes?’

  ‘You must.’

  The commanding quality of the voice made her feel she had to obey. She stepped forward and nearly fell when her hands touched air. She halted, opened her eyes, and pulled off her clothes and boots. Something cold touched her back and she fell into a pool of warm water. She thrashed and sputtered. Finally her feet touched the ground.

  She lay on the water and let the current move her. The water changed from warm to hot. When the water became too hot to bear she paddled to the warm area. At the edge she pulled herself from the pool.

  She stumbled over her clothes and knew she couldn’t wear them yet. She dipped the trousers in the water. Mud rolled from the cloth and rippled away. She put the trousers on one of the protruding rocks and washed the tunic.

  Lorana looked across the pool and saw a thin band of light coming from a gap in the dome. Steam spiraled upward. She laid her clothes on the rocks and hoped the warm air would dry the clothes so she could dress and find her other clothes and her pack.

  After a time she turned the clothes on the heated rocks. She sat on a stone ledge and finger combed her hair before weaving the strands into a braid. If she had had her pack, there was a change of clothes. With luck anything packed in the oil coated cloth remained dry. She checked the washed clothes. They were damp but she dressed.

  A large shadow rolled across the water. Her eyes widened. Had some wizard learned how to create an illusion? She shook her head. The movement hurt, but she remembered the deep voice in her head urging her to walk. She moved closer and touched the velvety dragon hide.

  ‘You’re real. I thought I’d imagined you.’

  ‘Very real. Welcome to my lair.’

  ‘I have questions.’

  ‘In time all will be answered. Follow me. You must sleep.’

  A yawn stretched her mouth. Waves of exhaustion swept over her. She would sleep. When she woke they would talk. For the present she felt safe. With her hand on the wall she followed Dragon.

  * * *

  Arton peered outside the small cave where he’d sought escape from the storm. The precipitation had stopped. How many days had he camped here? One day had bled into the next. Two or three, he decided. Rain had been steady and tiny ice crystals had joined the mix. Occasionally a hailstone the size of a sling pellet had fallen.

  Though his clothes shed water, they offered no protection from the ice. He stretched limbs grown stiff form his self-imposed stay. He drew deep breaths of the brisk air. An ache in his gut pulled him to the fire. He dug into his pack and pulled several pieces of flatbread, cheese, dried fruit and some of the roe deer meat he’d smoked. Once he’d broken his fast he pulled a wand from his belt sheath.

  Lorana. He built memories of her midnight hair and summer sky eyes. A scent of lace flowers flowed through the air. He felt the touch of her hand and the taste of her lips. “Find her.” The wand rotated until the stone pointed north. He released the power.

  After sipping water from his flask he re-powered the wand. Cregan. With a gasp of surprise he found his rival. Cregan had left the desert and strode up the slope that would intersect with his. Why had his rival changed direction? Did Cregan know where Lorana was?

  Anger roiled. Arton gathered his belongings and pulled on his cloak. He had to reach Lorana first and protect her from Cregan’s lust.

  Take a deep breath. Running like a crazed man wouldn’t help. Rain had slicked the ground. Rushing will cause a fall and a potential injury.

  As he left the cave he found a fallen branch. After removing the leaves and small branches, he had a staff to aid his journey toward the place where he would find Lorana and escort her back to the citadel.

  He maintained a steady pace and avoided loose rocks on the slope he traversed. The sun broke through the clouds. He came upon a rushing stream where he paused to eat and fill his water flask.

  Dusk brought him to the end of the treacherous mud and grass to a rocky area. This part of the slope held more dangers. A slip and the rocks might start an avalanche. Loose rocks and stones made him choose each step with care lest he send one rock to gather more and cascade down the slope.

  Small cracks in the earth widened into fissures, forcing him to follow a meandering path. He noticed many caves. The scent of animals made him detour around the first four. As he walked he gathered bits of wood that had fallen from trees growing above the barren stretch. Some of the pieces were what the wizards called ironwood. Deemed worthless since setting pieces on fire was almost impossible. He wondered if a flame from one of the colored stones could set the ironwood burning.

  As the sun set he cleared a cave of pests and snakes before settling inside. The air cooled and smelled of frost. He had a daring plan. He laid a fire with ironwood pieces at the base. With a wythe he chose the smallest of the orange stones and fastened it to the tip. Cautiously he couched the stone to the ironwood and gathered power. A tongue of flame shot from the tip. An instant later the ironwood caught fire. So did the wand. He dropped that before his fingers blistered.

  The other wood was quickly consumed but the ironwood continued to burn. He heated water and dropped dried meat and vegetables into the pot. Now he knew how to use three of the colors. Whites allowed those with latent power to use the stones in multiple ways. Perhaps the same potential existed in the others. He couldn’t be sure. For now using them for what he’d discovered was enough. Yellow produced a bright light and orange a fire. Could the ironwood be a wood strong enough to contain the power of these stones? How could he find and cut the needed length? He had no idea of the appearance of ironwood trees.

  * * *

  Lorana yawned and stretched. She opened her eyes to darkness. Her head ached. She tried to remember where she was and how she’d arrived. She recalled walking and falling. She curled into the warmth at her back. Where was she?

  ‘Do you feel better?’

  ‘Some. My head still hurts. Did I fall?’

  ‘Not sure what happened before I found you in that mud hole.’

  Suddenly she remembered who spoke. ‘Dragon.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’re real.’ She turned and narrowed her eyes and strained to see him. Slowly a huge pale yellow male emerged from the shadows. ‘Where are we?’

  ‘My cave system. First this was a refuge for my people and the other dragons. Then they decided to flee and to fight. Then it was mine.’

  ‘How did you survive? I thought the wizards killed all the dragons who didn’t succeed in their flight.’

  ‘I entered a special hibernating sleep. Your voice woke me. I heard, “Escape. Escape.” You continued calling until I woke and knew I had to help.’

  ‘What will happen now?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Do you have a name?’

  ‘Long ago, when I was green, people called me by one. I do not remember what was said. Dragon will work.’

  ‘What happened to the other dragons? Did the wizards really destroy them?’

  Dragon growled. The vibrations shook her body. ‘Are you sure you want to know?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The wizards came in many boats. Hundreds of them. With them they brought women, children, and guards.’

  ‘Where did the dragons go?’

  ‘My kin went into the hills. They could not fight the wizards.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Those evil men used their wands to flame the dragons’ eyes. My kin and those of the other clans crashed and died. Many flew to the mountains. The wizards skinned the dragons and used the pelts to make clothes. They destroyed three dragon kin
groups. My kin settled in these caves where they established a hidden keep. With their riders the youngest and the strongest moved into the mountains hoping to cross.’

  ‘But you stayed.’

  ‘I was too young to go. The oldest of the dragons stayed to fight.’

  ‘Some reached my land and lived to breed. They remained in peace until my father and his schemes to control all dragons and to sell their hides to gain wealth. The greens and yellows were the first to go. He kept a red and a blue from each of the keeps to breed.’

  ‘But they lived.’

  ‘Not free. I heard an ancient yellow lived in the northern keep. The red from that keep was heavy with egg. I heard her escape. I heard her lay the eggs. She died.’

  ‘There was hope since there were eggs.’

  ‘Maybe. My father sold me and I lost my dream of flying.’

  ‘There are other dreams.’

  She leaned against Dragon and thought of what she wanted. Since she had escaped she wanted to see the wizards gone. Every year there were fewer boys born. More girls arrived. Girls mattered little to the wielders of the wands.

  She straightened and told him about the births. ‘Could the fewer boys be caused by the way the wizards use their wands for ill?’

  ‘I do not know. There could be other reasons. Fyrestones need the proper wood for the wands. Before I entered the sleep I spied on the wizards. The wood they use for their wands also produces berries and thorns dragons eat.’

  ‘What would be better?’

  ‘Not sure. Maybe ironwood.’

  She had no idea what he meant. How could wood be a metal? Her stomach gurgled. ‘Where’s my pack?’

  ‘In the outer cave.’

  She rose and left the dragon’s lair. She strode down the corridor toward the light. The brightness in the outer cave revealed her pack. Before checking the contents she peered outside. A large clear area fronted the cave. Beyond the clearing clusters of trees and bushes marked the beginning of the forest.

  Lorana returned to her pack. The one she’d made from her dress was a sodden mass. Any food still contained was ruined. She unrolled the blanket and made a face. Mud covered the cloth. She needed to wash it.

  In the oiled canvas pack she found some food that needed to be cooked before she could eat. She couldn’t find her small kettle. She pulled out her second set of clothes. They remained clean, as did the other set of clothes. She undid her belt and searched the contents of the pouches. The fire starter and the sling needed to dry.

  Dragon ambled into sight. His yellow color was darker than she had thought. ‘I can hunt for us and bring fresh meat for you to butcher.’

  She giggled. ‘I don’t eat uncooked meat and my fire starter must dry before I can start a fire. I’ll also need wood.’

  Dragon sprawled on the floor of the cave. ‘Use water from the hottest part of the pool.’

  ‘What will I put the food in while it cooks? My pot is gone.’

  Dragon rested his head on his bent front legs. ‘Walk down the tunnel. In one of the side caverns you will find things belonging to my people.’

  Lorana entered the passage and trailed a hand along the wall as a guide through the darkness. When she reached the pool room she continued past. A few steps later she felt the opening of a cave and stepped inside. A blast of frigid air sent her scurrying into the corridor.

  She came to a second opening. Light from a narrow fissure near the peak of the dome made her gasp. Long pillars of what looked like glass rose from floor to dome. Scattered across the floor she saw treasures. Gleaming gold, tarnished silver and other objects the color of polished silver captured her attention.

  She moved into the room to make her selections. She took two small gold kettles, a flat tray of not-silver, a cup and several not-silver spoons, and a large knife for when she needed to butcher some animal Dragon brought back. The edge of the knife was sharper than any she’d ever seen.

  Lorana loaded the things in the kettles and on the tray and carried them to the bathing room where she washed dust away. She filled one kettle with water from the hottest part of the pool.

  She added dried meat and vegetables to the pot. Her stomach ached. While she waited for the food to heat she washed the blanket and the two cloths once part of her dress. She carried them outside to dry in the sun. Dragon remained in the entrance cave. She carried the kettle, a bowl and cup and joined her friend.

  ‘Where can I find wood and dry grass? I’ll also need a lot of stones.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The stones to make a fireplace for cooking my food. The wood for a fire and the grass for the floor of my sleeping place and to make torches for light.’

  ‘I will find some. So you eat the way my men and women did. The desert people do the same.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘They are kin to my people. I can hear some of them and might even be able to talk to them. They have no desire to ride dragons. They ride sleek four-footed creatures over the sand and rocks. When the riders lived here, dragons could not eat the riding animals.’

  ‘I’m glad you can’t. Those people will make good friends.’ Lorana leaned forward. ‘There is a cave along the corridor where the air is colder than winter blasts. Why?

  ‘The place was where meat was kept to use when hunting was poor.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘I go to hunt. He waddled from the cave.

  Lorana walked to the opening. She watched him pump his wings and soar into the sky.

  * * *

  Cregan cursed the rain. At least the path led through a forest. The trees provided some respite from the constant wetness. His cloak of dragon skin kept rain from soaking him. The dragon hide gloves protected his hands. Only his face suffered. He pulled a wand free and thought of his rival. By traveling long hours and having a burden beast to carry his possessions he had shortened the distance between them.

  The wand indicated north and slightly east. Cregan withdrew the power, waited and thought of Lorana. The wand never wavered. He shoved it onto his belt sheath and yanked on the beast’s pull rope.

  Throughout the day he pushed forward. At dusk he made camp and cooked a meal.

  With the dawn he emerged from the forest at the foot of a steep slope. He laughed. Standing midway up the rise near a cluster of rocks, he saw Arton. The burden beast balked and refused to move. Cregan heard a rumbling noise.

  “Arton, stop! Join me in seeking shelter,” Cregan shouted.

  “Run,” Arton yelled.

  What did the warning mean? He could no longer see Arton. Then Cregan saw rocks, at first small ones, and then huge ones gathered mud and more rocks until they formed a wall sweeping down the slope.

  The burden beast pulled on his arm. Cregan stumbled and nearly fell. He struggled to remove a wand but had no time to use a stone to halt the river of rocks and mud. He managed to turn the beast away from the flow.

  Once out of the path of the avalanche Cregan pulled a wand free. He cast a circle of safety around himself and the pack animal. The creature’s wild eyes softened and the equine sank to the ground. The rumbling roar ceased. He heard crashing and then silence. Cregan studied his surroundings. Many of the trees in the path of the slide had become splinters.

  Cregan used his wand to search for Arton. The stone at the tip glowed but didn’t move. Cregan’s gut clenched. He rested his head on his bent knees. Was Arton dead? If so, the challenge had ended leaving him no chance of winning a seat on the council.

  A growl erupted from his throat. He had to return to the citadel with a story to keep his father from learning his rival was dead.

  Cregan rose and tugged on the pull rope. The burden beast lunged to its feet. The rain began anew with pellets of ice mixed with the water. Some reached thumbnail size. Cregan plodded forward. Word by word the tale of what to report to Mecador formed.

  Arton had fled. He had released the rocks to keep his rival from reaching him. Cregan added a bit of how Arton h
ad refused to stop. Mecador would believe the adopted man intended to win no matter what he had to do.

  Though the reward remained hidden somewhere in the hills, come spring Cregan would lead a party of wizards and guards to capture her. Arton’s bones might be found, but who could say they were his? There had been other challenge losers who had left the citadel never to return.

  Chapter Six

  “Arton, halt.”

  His rival’s shout startled Arton. He turned from the fire where a haunch of roe deer hung to cook. When his food hit a rock he landed on his knees. The rock rolled and hit the cluster where he’d sheltered last night. A suspicious rumbling caused him to grab his pack and cloak before diving to grasp a pinnacle of rock jutting from the earth.

  He turned his head. His eyes widened. “Cregan, run.”

  The jumble of rocks rolled down the slope carrying mud and Arton’s fire. His food was soon buried. At first the sound barely registered but grew thunderous, as the boulders and mud rolled toward the trees at the foot of the slope. With a booming sound the massive slide hit the trees sending pieces of wood and leaves into the air.

  The misting rain changed to a drizzle and then a downpour. Arton’s view of the lower slope and Cregan blurred. He noticed how the forest had been shattered. Where was Cregan? The other wizard had vanished.

  Emotions flooded his thoughts. Since the slide had been his fault, guilt rose. Relief followed when he realized there would be no duel of wands. When he considered what Mecador might do when he learned about his son’s death and who had been the cause, fear rocked his body.

  If Cregan lay beneath a pile of rubble, there was no chance of winning the council seat. Even if the body was found Arton would be declared a wizard of the second rank. He would be called a failure and be fated to serve the council members as they wished. He groaned. What should he do?

  The chill rain continued. Pellets of ice stung his face. Arton shouldered his pack and donned his cloak. He emitted a growl. Not only had his meal been swept away, so had his pot and his water flask. He looked around. His bow was gone. These thoughts caused him to remember he had planned to eat.