Fire Born Dragon (Rule 9 Academy Book 1)

by Elizabeth Rain

  It was the Major himself who reached for the first dish closest to himself and dished up, passing it to the right in that fashion.

  Kimmy sat down next to me.

  “Do you cook like this all the time?” I asked.

  “Are you kidding. Nope, twice a week is plenty. I take turns with Karen and Krissy.” She grimaced. “The guys handle the last day.”

  “That doesn’t seem fair...”

  Kimmy grinned. “We reverse the order for the outside chores. Us girls only have to take care of the stock once a week. It works and we’re all good with it.”

  I took a huge bite of roast and buttered sourdough bread. When I could speak, I looked at Thomas’ sister.

  “Kimmy, wow, this is incredible. I wish I could do half of this.”

  She grinned at me. “Thanks, I enjoy cooking. It’s the only domestic thing I like. I hate to clean though. Are you volunteering?” She teased.

  I snapped my mouth shut and looked around the gigantic table at the mounting pile of dishes.

  “Ignore her. She imagines she’s a comedian.” Krissy added three seats down.

  “I’ll have you know I’m not trying. I am funny!” She bumped my shoulder with hers, and the force behind it almost sent me flying from my chair. I caught her eyes and had to laugh at the smirk on her face.

  I looked around the table, dishes passing, glasses and forks clanking and conversation loud and competitive. It had only ever been my mom and dad and I in our house. Dinners had been somber affairs; more an act of necessity rather than an opportunity to deepen family bonds.

  I imagined the larger the family, the more frequent the problems. But I wondered that the added dose of love might make it worthwhile just the same.

  I listened to the conversations going on around me as I ate. When the tone at the table changed and deepened to serious, I paid closer attention. My eyes clashed with Sirris and Thomas’ worried looks.

  “We buried what was left of Harold deep in the back pasture,” Terry said, sitting his fork and knife down.

  I must have looked confused. “One of our prize bulls,” Kimmy whispered in my ear. I nodded.

  Todd added, beefy hand gripping his glass hard. “Mangled. Major, I just don’t believe it was any mountain lion. I’m convinced it couldn’t have been. The claw marks were too deep for any cat.”

  I looked at Major Tuttle, his eyes resting on his sons, hands steepled in front of him. “No, I don’t imagine it was any cougar either. Nor a bear, though that would be more likely with the severity of the wounds. No, I’m sure this is what Thomas has been seeing. Out after dark when he imagines I’m not paying attention.” Major Tuttle’s gaze speared his son with a hard look and I watched Thomas squirm and try to hide the temper I hadn’t known he possessed.

  Kimmy spoke up. “There are two hikers missing in town, daddy.”

  His gaze softened on his younger daughter. “I heard the buzz at the hardware. A young couple on their honeymoon. Easy to get lost though, maybe they’ll show up yet.”

  But none of us believed it.

  Todd piped up. “We need to go hunting then—before we lose any more stock. Or worse.” Anger deepened his voice and his brother Terry nodded by his side.

  “Could it be a rebel faction of wolves?” Terry Asked.

  I jumped, rapping my knuckles painfully under the rough table. My eyes met the Major’s. His were hard with speculation.

  “I don’t know what it is and nobody will jump to any damned conclusions and go off half-cocked and get themselves killed playing hero.” He looked the length of the table, eyes lingering on his sons, and took a deep breath, calming himself down.

  “Tuttle Council meets this coming weekend. Top of the agenda is figuring out what’s happening and deciding how to deal with it in the most effective way.

  “If it is a rogue faction of wolves, we will deal with them in council fashion.”

  Conversation continued around the table in the same vein for the next half hour and even through dessert, devoured to the last crumb to Kimmy’s delight.

  My mind was a whirl of confusion. If they didn’t think a bear could have caused the damage done to their prize bull, what made them assume a wolf, smaller and without claws, could? I was wondering if insanity ran in Thomas’ family, because what I was hearing sounded too crazy to be sane.

  Several times I caught odd looks in my direction from others at the table. It was almost as if they were trying to be careful about what they said in front of me. Again with the secrets. I was getting sick of them.

  “So, who is Tuttle Council?” I interjected at one point, tired of sitting still and just listening.

  Sudden silence—damn.

  Major Tuttle answered, “Well, we have a rather large extended family. We farm these mountains as a coalition. There are several farms like this one dotted here and there on or near Shephard’s Mountain. Most of us are cousins of cousins. We run our own little community and we have Tuttle Council, a group of elders that get together to vote on important decisions going forward that keep us all in accord and safe. When something happens to one of us; it happens to all of us.”

  I nodded. Truth—this was the truth. Just not all of it.

  “Until Tuttle Council meets. Until we decide what we're up against and what needs to be done, I don’t want any of you out after dark for any reason. As of today, after we clean up the mess in the pasture and bury the other two, we will bring the livestock in for the night an hour before sundown. So far, everything has happened at night. Let’s hope whatever it is doesn’t get bolder and come out during the day.”

  “What about the hikers?” I asked, wondering about the lack of concern for human lives over the animals.

  The Major’s eyes landed on mine. “They aren’t our problem. I hope they find them, but I have to worry about what’s happening right here on our mountain and the families under our care here. Family first. And friends.” He added the last to include Sirris and me. What he said made sense, but still. I worried about the campers and their families and the kids. The mountains surrounding Breathless were prime camping. Added to that, I was sure the locals would not be broadcasting the danger until they had no choice. Bad for business.

  After dinner I followed Sirris and Thomas, who had been silent at dinner, down to the barn.

  The door creaked under the force of Thomas’ hand.

  “Idiotic. They’ll sit around and argue and waste time. Worried about everyone on the mountain,” Thomas complained, grabbing a leaf of hay, and moving down the aisle. Sirris and I exchanged looks, grabbed more, and followed.

  “Who cares how many hikers and their families disappear. As long as our mountain is safe?” he continued.

  He entered the first stall, filled the hay bag and grabbed the half-empty bucket of stale water.

  Sirris and I each followed suit in a different stall and followed him out the barn door to the spigot and hose.

  “Why worry about anyone else? That’s our motto. Always.”

  Water sloshed over the sides of the buckets as we filled them and then struggled to keep up with Thomas. He finished clipping his in place in the stall and took ours from us and finished up, slamming the last stall door with more force than necessary, causing the buckskin gelding inside to start and whinny in protest.

  He plopped in one of the lawn chairs and sat back, mouth in a mutinous line.

  I asked. “What will Tuttle Council do? Will they go after them?” Whatever them was.

  Sirris and I sat opposite Thomas. “Not enough. Our family has a real habit of not getting involved in any affairs that happen in the Tobacco Root Mountains that don’t affect themselves or the ‘family’. That’s their way of doing things. But I think whatever is hunting our livestock and the hikers? It’s just testing the waters at night. I don’t imagine that will last.

  “It started out with just our hunting grounds being affected. We’ve found remnants of deer and bear attacks. What attacks a bear and walks away from
that? But we’ve been ignoring the threat to the wildlife. Attacking our prize bull got their attention, but only just. It’s only a matter of time before whatever it is doesn’t wait for nightfall, and it doesn’t stop at cattle and bears.” I was sure we were all imagining the same thing.

  Thomas finished. “It’ll start attacking in broad daylight soon; it’s already upping what’s on the menu.”

  Sirris spoke up. “Seems odd though, right? The magicals all think it’s only a human thing. The others only care if it affects them. Otherwise, it must not be important. Stupid, if you ask me.”

  I stared at Sirris. Had she lost her mind. “Magicals?” I asked, one eyebrow fighting for purchase near my hairline.

  Both Sirris and Thomas started and flashed me a look.

  They’d misspoken. They’d forgotten I was there.

  Thomas spoke up, shrugging. “You know, anyone who has lived forever in Breathless and isn’t a tourist. Magicals, that’s just what they’re called. A figure of speech.” It was a smooth lie. When he had to be, Thomas was good at it. It just hurt that he directed it at me. But I had always had a spot-on lie detector. I looked at them both. The hurt I felt was staring back at them.

  “I’m not dumb, you know. I know you’re lying to me. Both of you.” But I had a more pressing question.

  “What are those things, really?” I asked.

  Thomas eyes looked away from mine. Good. I hoped he felt bad. I hoped they both did. The lying had to stop.

  But it was Thomas who answered. “Don’t know, been trying to figure that out. Wolves, I think. But not any I’ve ever seen. These are a lot bigger and armed. I saw weapons on some of them.”

  I nodded as if what he said made some kind of sense.

  “Yeah, wolves. On two legs and with fingers. With claws that can cleave an arm or leg in two. Makes sense to me,” I ground out. Nothing made any sense. “What about the blood? That was just as strange, don’t you think?”

  Sirris nodded, ignoring my outburst. “Yeah, I do,” she agreed. “Darker and sticky. Tar-like.”

  I remembered something else. “The night I spent in the tree? I went back the next day to look for blood from the one I shot? I saw that same thick crap, black and thick. When I touched it? It stung.”

  Thomas frowned and got up, walking the length of the barn to the back doors and swinging them wide for the cattle we heard shuffling and jockeying for position on the other side. Sirris and I took our cues and got up to open the doors to the inside arena where they’d been housing them during the night. They came in easy enough, the lure of grain a great temptation. Terry and Todd followed them in. They’d helped round them up out of the far pasture.

  “Tuttle Council is a joke. It’s gonna be too damned late if they don’t do something soon. We need to hunt down and kill whatever is out there before it moves on our homes and families at night.” Todd Complained, his brother nodding beside him. Had they overheard our conversation? Spoken low and across a field and through a barn door? What the heck?

  Terry continued. “I don’t know what the holdup is. Something has got to be done quick.”

  Todd slammed the door shut behind the last steer. “I’m not sitting around waiting for a bunch of old farts into their dotage to figure things out; too scared to decide anything.”

  Terry looked at Thomas. “You with us, brother? I’m feeling a hunting trip coming on.” His eyes gleamed. I realized that all the siblings shared the same light brown eyes.

  I looked at Thomas and realized he wasn’t near as calm as he seemed. He just hid it better. He looked at his agitated brothers.

  “We need to be cautious. Running off half-cocked with no plan and getting ourselves killed won’t solve anything.”

  Both brothers stared at him in disgust. Terry turned away with his brother on his heels and spoke over his shoulder. “Brother, sometimes I wonder where you store your balls at? It seems sometimes you’re missing them. Well, we’re not sitting around. We will make sure no one gets close enough to the family to hurt them. Even if you’re prepared to wait for it, we’re not.” The barn door closed behind them with a bang.

  Sirris and I looked at Thomas. He’d just lied to his brothers.

  “That’s not what you said.” Sirris observed.

  “No, but we don’t need two more hotheads dogging our tail either. I don’t know what decisions Tuttle Council will come up with. I agree with the part about waiting. We can’t afford to do that. I’m up for a bit of reconnaissance if you are? Perhaps together we can figure out where they are holing up. That way, at least, we have something worth bringing to the table if Tuttle Council gets their heads out of their rear ends and decide. Knowledge is power. I think it’s time we gained some. I’m tired of being in the dark.”

  I agreed. It was time to find out what was going on; and worth lying about?

  I PULLED MY JACKET tighter and shivered. Nighttime was colder the further up the mountain we walked. It was darker than the last time I’d come this way earlier in the month. The moon was a thin ribbon and there wasn’t much light, making it difficult to see, even for me. Thomas’ eyesight was even better than mine, so he took the lead, cautious and skilled on a trail.

  Sirris and I had walked together, meeting Thomas where the path to his house and the main path up the mountain crossed. We all had our packs. Only this time I packed mine with more than granola bars and water. We’d all taken precautions to use unscented soap and air dry our outerwear. It had seemed to help before. I adjusted the strap of my crossbow as I walked so it wouldn’t dig into my shoulder. We walked without talking, listening for any sounds that weren’t us. I glanced up at Thomas and caught his eyes. They reflected at me, eerie and more yellow than brown in the moonlight. My eyes traveled down to the length of rope and spiked balls attached at Thomas’ waist. Bolos, they were called. It was a strange choice of weapons. But then I was the girl with the crossbow, so I had no room to talk. Sirris brought up the rear, her staff guiding her way over the uneven ground.

  We were looking for the same ‘wolves’ we’d seen before, and the smaller creatures with them that had seemed more like pets. They called the larger ones Demon wolves. I still thought of them as some form of Sasquatch. It was easier on my instinctive skepticism.

  We’d all decided that knowing where they came from and went to during the day was critical.

  I’d expected to come across signs of them quickly. They’d had no problems finding me before. But we had traveled the trail for the better part of an hour and we were getting edgy. The cool breeze was stiff and the lodgepole pines above us swayed, the branches making an eerie crackle as they brushed together and twisted..

  What we heard was so far away at first we weren’t sure what it was. We picked up our pace and had covered another hundred yards of trail before we heard Thomas gasp. We ate his dust as he broke into a ground-eating lope. Sirris and I both struggled to keep up. For a large teen, he moved fast over a long distance. We hadn’t gone much farther though when we made out the screams. Human screams. This was no small animal being eviscerated by the sharp claws of a hungry predator. There were people up there, and from the sounds of it, they were fighting for their lives.

  The three of us burst into the clearing to a scene straight from hell. My bow notched and ready, eyes swinging to take it all in. Thomas moved left, his bolos out and swinging. Sirris moved right, staff gripped like she knew what she was about and a bluish glow about her wrists that would have grabbed my attention better if what was in front of me hadn’t been demanding all of it.

  Center of the clearing was a small camp and what remained of a fire. The tent itself was in tatters, huge slits the full length of the sides, stakes uprooted in a fury. The fire was almost out, heavy feet had doused it in sand and rocks to smother its cheery glow. None of that was what grabbed our attention.

  The same three Demon wolves from the other night stood there too, mouths yawning wide in cruel pleasure. The moonlight cast an eerie glow over the scene
, and not of the warm and fuzzy kind.

  I wanted to say my eyes were playing tricks on me. I wanted it to be true.

  Thomas and the others had had the right of it. These were wolves. But they were human too. At close to seven feet tall, they stood on their hind feet, shoulders muscular and broad and covered in a thick pelt of hair from head to toe. Their faces were a parody of long quivering snouts and teeth sprung from a face that was more human than dog, eyes gleaming with avarice and bad intentions.

  My eyes fell on what the tallest of them held at arm’s length, dangling and squirming at the end of clawed fingers. The small child screamed and wriggled, eyes wide and terrified as he struggled. The other two held what she figured were the parents. A petrified woman clawed at the cruel fingers that held her in place with frightful ease, desperate to get to her young son. The husband hung limp under the claws of the third wolf. Blood leaked from several wounds to his shoulder and torso.

  I wondered why they were still alive. It had taken us long enough to get here. The largest wolf opened his jaws wide, eyes on the frantic mother, and brought the sobbing child closer to those needle-like fangs, mouth spread wide in cruel pleasure.

  And I got it. They were playing with their food. Taking savage terror in the terror of their victims before they killed them. They hadn’t noticed us, too intent on their playthings.

  I’d seen all I needed to, swinging my bow up and taking deadly aim. From this distance I couldn’t miss.

  Only I couldn’t fire. The child was in the way. Move dammit, move! I prayed, swinging my aim left and then right, looking for the opening that never came. Thin strings of saliva trailed from its jaw as it slobbered in excitement.

  My finger rested on the trigger as the child’s neck came within inches of those deadly fangs. I’d take the shot... I’d risk it if I had no choice.

  At that moment a whirring sound, like a thousand deadly bees, buzzed through the air. Thomas had released his Bolos. They sang through the air, twisting in a rapid blur around the wolf at the knees. The spiked ends ran out of rope and buried themselves deep.