“Fine. Do you know where they took our mother?” Wren asked.
“Mother. Child of forest? In cage?”
“Yes.”
“To dragon. For dragon day. To trade.”
“To the Reds? The forest children?”
Losh nodded. “Or dragon.”
“They might trade her to the dragon,” Reyna said coldly.
“Dragon day for giving to dragon.”
Wren’s words were heavy with a potent mix of fear and anger. “If they… if they give her to the dragon, what will the dragon do with her?”
Losh shrugged. “Dragon things.”
“What dragon things?” Reyna urged.
The fairy counted off the answer on his fingers. “Dragons burn. Dragons eat. Dragons keep. Dragons… just burn, eat, and keep.”
Reyna and Wren looked at him in horror.
“D-do you now where this is happening?”
“Dragon place!” Losh said brightly.
“Do you know how to get there?”
Flitting up proudly, he said, “Losh know all the wheres and all the hows of going.”
They looked to one another again. It took no more than a moment of eye contact for the twins to know that they were of one mind. There was only one thing to be done, and only one time to do it. Wren pulled the stolen blade from where he’d hidden it. Losh flitted back slightly.
“Losh, we want two things from you. We want you to show the way to this dragon place, and we want you to do like you do for the others, keep us secret when we go.”
Losh nodded, then held up a finger. “Losh keep forest children secret, if forest children keep forest children secret.”
A voice called out from the edge of the courtyard where the twins were kept. Reyna couldn’t understand the words, but there was suspicion in the tone. Finally, someone wise enough to suspect two prisoners huddled together and whispering might be up to something had taken notice.
“Don’t worry. We’ll move as secretly as we can,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Wren nodded and slashed the ropes that held them. In a flash of motion so quick Losh had to scramble to keep up, the twins bounded into the air and sprinted for open dunes surrounding the village.
A call of alarm rose up around them, but with so many members of the village off overseeing the offering, there weren’t enough of them to stop two young and very motivated malthropes. The twins burst out into the open and dashed for all they were worth. Though the Fennecs couldn’t keep them from escaping, they were easily a match for Reyna’s speed and only a shade slower than Wren. He couldn’t very well leave his sister behind, and for a few harrowing moments, the fleeing pair and their recruited fairy were just a few healthy strides from being recaptured.
Then Losh put his skills to work. He may not have had the words to explain how he helped the Fennecs hide, but he most certainly had the means to show them. A powerful and precise wind kicked up. Regardless of which way the wind had been traveling when they’d begun, it now rushed from behind, drawing the scent of their pursuers to their noses and keeping their own scent from those who followed. At this range, that was scarcely of any help, but the same wind picked up the powdery sand that topped the dunes and swirled it into the air. It billowed into great trailing clouds until a glimpse over their shoulders showed only a wall of sandy debris.
If they couldn’t see those on their trail, then they couldn’t be seen either. That was all the twins needed. They made a sudden shift in direction. Losh followed. His buzzing flight took him down to the ground. He started bouncing across the surface of the sand like a stone skipping across a pond. Though he was a tiny thing, each time he struck, the ground rattled like a boulder had been dropped. The rumbling continued long after he flitted up again, and redoubled each time he struck.
For a moment, Reyna and Wren thought he was trying to trip them up, but when they looked down to see what he was up to, they realized that the rattling of the ground was causing their footprints to sift down to smooth sand again. By the time the whirling wind was done with their path, it looked like any other stretch of sand.
No footprints, no scent trail, and a cloud of dust keeping them from being seen. No wonder these creatures were able to sneak up so effectively. In the space of minutes, the evasive path and the mystic efforts of the fairy had allowed the twins to vanish into the desert with no sign of the pursuers.
“Losh show,” the fairy crowed, realizing the first of his jobs was done and now eager to get to the second.
They dashed north, following the fairy, who now and again thumped the ground to wipe their trail away.
“When this is over,” Wren puffed, “we need to try to get our own fairy.”
Reyna nodded, panting in her efforts to keep up. “They’re very nice.”
#
Voices among both Reds and Fennecs called out. The Fennec chieftain raised his eyes to a swath of the sky that had grown still darker.
“Boviss approaches. Know this. It brings me no joy to do what must be done. But rest assured, your children will be cared for. I wish things could have been different.”
He stepped back and joined his people. Sorrel growled and shook the cage. Now atop a firm, stable platform, she had no hope of tipping it. With few other options, she poured her frustration out into the stout metal bars regardless.
A distant sound, unlike any she’d heard before, rushed over the landscape. It was vast and airy. As it drew nearer, Sorrel realized it must be the regular, whistling flaps of wings greater than the sails of a frigate. She twisted in her prison, searching for the source. Before she saw it, she felt it. Great gales of wind surged across the altar, spilling some of the carefully arranged offering. The scattering of buzzing fairies in the malthrope entourage fought to keep from being blown away.
Finally, she turned enough to see the creature they had assembled to honor. Sorrel shuddered at the sight of him. She had seen dragons before. Always from afar, and only briefly. They were enormous creatures, fearsome and powerful. But those she had seen were nothing in comparison to this… thing.
The elephant-sized dragons she’d assumed were the largest of their kind would scarcely stand at chest height to Boviss. Just one of this vast wings could cast the whole of the Fennec village in darkness. Titanic jaws held teeth longer than spears. His head was a wreath of horns and fins that could turn away siege weapons. Gouges and slashes covered his hide, evidence of a thousand battles. They were all shallow, glancing blows shrugged off in years gone by. None was so deep as to truly be called a scar. It was possible that this beast had not once shed a drop of its own blood.
It was right to worship this monster. It was right to do anything that would keep him from burning you to ash.
All in attendance raised their hands and lowered their heads.
“Oh Boviss. You who are so wise. We present to you these offerings. May they nourish your mighty body and add to your legendary glory. May they earn for us mercy until the next full moon,” they chanted in one voice.
The dragon’s great head angled down to inspect the offerings made by the Reds. What had moments ago seemed like a feast fit for a village now looked to be barely more than a mouthful. He sniffed at the heaps of food and flicked at them with his great tongue.
“You hunt well, forest children,” rumbled the dragon in a voice like distant thunder. “Your offering of food pleases me.”
He leveled his eye with the slab, tilting his head to do so. The dragon’s eye was set so deep in his armored skull that it was little more than a glimmer in the darkness. Even so, one could see the dismissal and judgment as it studied the scrimshaw and carvings.
“What is this?” he rumbled.
The chieftain of the Reds stepped forward and cast her eyes low.
“Oh great Boviss. We have scoured our lands for all things precious, but though the forest offers much, it does not—”
“Did I ask you for excuses, Child of the Forest?” Boviss asked.
; This time, Sorrel felt something new when the dragon spoke. There was a crackle beneath his voice, the stink of brimstone on his breath, and the smallest flare of orange deep in his throat.
“No, oh great Boviss.”
The dragon sat, shaking the very earth beneath their feet, and held out a massive claw. He scooped up a wooden statue. It was nearly life-size, a depiction of what must have been a fabled warrior of the village. The detail was striking, the design superb. Such a statue must have taken thousands of hours to craft. In Boviss’s grip it may as well have been a figurine.
“What is this?”
“It is the thing of greatest value that we have to offer. It was crafted in your name by our greatest artisans. There isn’t another like it in the—”
Boviss tightened his claws. The masterpiece was reduced to kindling with a soft splintering crunch.
“I do not care what you value. And you know what I value. Have you nothing more to offer?” He flicked one of the bone carvings aside like an unwanted crumb from his plate. “Because if you do not, your obligation to me is only half-filled.”
The Red chieftain trembled lightly and lowered her head farther. She pulled the gold chain from her neck and held it out.
“This is the chain of my station. It has been passed from leader to leader since even before you deigned provide us your protection. I offer it.”
She held out the gold chain. Boviss dumped the shreds of the carving on the ground and hooked the chain with a claw. From his point of view, it was barely a thread.
“Open your ears, Child of the Forest. I do not wish to repeat myself again. What carries value for you does not carry value for me. The years mean nothing for me. They are a blink of my eye. And your traditions that stretch across those years lend no weight to this chain.” He flicked it at her feet. “You have failed to meet my demands.”
He craned his neck and shut his eyes. “But I am not without mercy,” he added magisterially. “You have not failed for many months. I will take what you have offered, but your next offering shall be twice as large as this one should have been. If you fail, I take one of you. Of my choice.”
“Yes, oh mighty Boviss.” The Red chieftain bowed low, fetching her chain and retreating gratefully.
Boviss turned to the Fennec offering. His eyes fell upon Sorrel. The breath caught in her throat. She huddled down, as though somehow she could hide from him within the cage. His gaze lingered upon her, then swept across the rest of the offering. A claw stirred at the heavy sacks.
“This is proper wealth,” Boviss said. “Your cousins to the north have much to learn from you, Children of the Desert. But you offer no food. Do you wish me to starve? Do you wish me to grow weak? What will become of you if I do?”
The Fennec chieftain lowered his head and dropped to one knee. “The lands are barren. The game is scarce. I would not think to insult you by offering the vermin that we feed upon to survive. But I offer you instead this captured Red.”
“You offer it? Freely?” Boviss turned to the other malthropes. “Do you care so little for your kind that you would permit this?”
“The one they have captured is not of our number. She hails from elsewhere. She does not fall under our protection,” the Red chieftain replied.
“From elsewhere…” Boviss murmured.
The dragon leaned low. His snout nearly touched the cage. First, a broiling hot breath, humid and stinking of smoke and flame, fluttered Sorrel’s thin rags and long hair. Though she trembled, she tried to stay strong and face the beast. The breath returned as a long, deep sniff.
“Yes. She smells of other lands.” He glanced at the rest of the offering, then back to Sorrel. “A rare treasure to offer, but treasures are not what your offering lacks.”
The Fennec chieftain spoke, his words heavy with shame and regret. “I offer her as a forfeit. For those things we cannot offer. Use her as you see fit.”
“A forfeit?” Boviss said. “You know that I take, as a forfeit, a prize of my choice.” His terrible lips curled into the tiniest hint of a cruel grin. “However, of your number, I think she is the finest. I accept your offer, though she is but a morsel when I demand a meal. You, too, shall make twice a proper offering when I come again.”
“Yes, great one. You are wise and gracious.”
Boviss stood and spread his wings again. He reached out. Each of his foreclaws scraped at the slabs holding his offerings. With a skill that spoke of having done so thousands of times before, he snatched up all that was offered in his mighty grip without spilling a single nugget of gold. Sorrel released a muffled scream through her muzzle as the dim light of night was blotted out and her prison was roughly gathered into the vise-like grip. Her cage pressed tight against the sacks of gold and gems. The bars groaned and creaked under the strength of the grip. Then, in a single motion that she felt in the pit of her stomach, the beast launched himself into the sky to return from whence he came.
Chapter 7
The twins streaked through the desert. Driven by fear for their mother’s safety and without cargo to haul along the way, they covered ground at twice the rate of the procession of Fennecs earlier that evening. And though Losh assured them the journey was a short one, it was still one that would take them time, and time was a luxury they did not have.
“This way! Over this way. From the next high place you will see it. Not much more,” Losh said pleasantly.
“Look!” Reyna cried.
Wren and Losh followed her gaze. At first, it wasn’t clear what she had seen, but slowly the dark form retreating into the sky above began to take shape in their vision. It was Boviss, already well into the sky and on his way to his lair.
“We’re too late,” Reyna fretted.
“Maybe the dragon doesn’t have her,” Wren insisted. “They said they were going to trade her to the Reds. They said that! Remember?”
“But what if they didn’t?” Reyna said, eyes twinkling with tears.
“Th-the Reds and the Fennecs meet at the same place to make the offering. Right?” Wren said to the fairy.
He looked curiously at Wren.
“The forest children and the desert children!” Wren snapped.
“Yes! Yes. Always the dragon place. Always the same time.”
“So they can’t be far if the dragon is still so near. Can you take us to them?” Wren said.
“No.”
“But you said you know all of the wheres and hows of going places!”
“Losh did not say the whos of going places,” the fairy said simply.
“What do we do, what do we do?” Reyna fretted.
The twins started to rave, their voices raised and rambling.
“We find her! We’ve got to find her,” Wren said.
“But they have fairies too, they’ll hide too,” Reyna said.
“So we hunt better than they hide!”
“But they beat us once! They caught us once!”
“And we got away! And we’re smarter now! We learn, right? You do, at least. You’re the smart one!”
“But I don’t know what to do!”
The fairy buzzed about between them, looking with growing agitation at their faces.
“Why is sad? Why yell?” Losh said, suddenly anxious. “Losh helper! Losh help!”
“We don’t know where she is. And if she’s with the dragon—” Reyna squealed.
“If she’s with the dragon, then we’ll slay the dragon. Mama taught us to be strong. We’ll do what we need to do,” Wren said.
“You think being strong is all it takes, but we’re not stronger than a dragon!”
“You don’t know that! We never fought a dragon. There’s probably a secret way to beat them. Swift would know how to beat a dragon.”
“Swift isn’t real!”
The fairy flitted between them and released a piercing, high-pitched chirp that caused both the twins to wince.
“No yell,” he said firmly. “Losh no like yell.”
They
blinked a bit and took some deep breaths. Reyna shut her eyes tight and tried to put her frenzied mind to work.
“There’s a way forward. There’s always a way forward. Mama is either with the Reds or with…” She shuddered. “The dragon. If she’s with the Reds, we just need to go to them. If she’s not, that means she’s with the dragon.”
“And if she is with the dragon, then we’ll need help. And we can only get that help from the Reds,” Wren said.
“Help? They won’t fight a dragon for us,” said Reyna.
Wren had already turned to the north and begun sampling the air. “We won’t know until we try. We’ve already been with the Fennecs, and they traded Mama away. They had us prisoner. We had to escape from them.”
Reyna considered his words. “I suppose it is the best we can do for now.”
“So we go to the Reds,” Wren said. “I think I have their scent…”
“Losh not go to forest children place,” the fairy said. “Losh help desert children.”
“Oh… Well, thank you for your help.” Reyna rummaged through her things and found the bottle she’d stolen. “Here. We won’t need this anymore.”
She set it down in the sand. Losh’s eyes widened.
“For Losh? All? ALL FOR LOSH?!” he trilled.
Reyna nodded vaguely. She, too, had turned her attention to the breeze. Losh clutched his hands and spun in a circle.
“Losh help desert children. Always. Forest children, never. But…” He clapped his hands. “Names!”
“What?”
“Names!” He thumped his chest. “Losh!” He flitted up and slapped Reyna’s shoulder.
“Reyna,” she said with a smile.
“Wren,” her brother offered without further prompting.
“Reyna, Wren. Thank you. Losh not forget.” He gathered up the bottle and happily darted south with it.
“What do you suppose that stuff was?” Wren asked.
“Whatever it is, he must really like it. But let’s go. Maybe we can catch the Reds before they get all the way back,” she replied.
The Story of Sorrel Page 8
