Shatterwing: Dragon Wine 1

by Donna Maree Hanson

  Garan smelled the vinegary taint of the rain.

  Laidan sniffed. “We just made it then?”

  “Yes.”

  Garan remembered his last journey with Thurdon long ago. How after a night of acid storms, they’d continued their trek to Trithorn Peak. They’d found an old man, left out in the elements. The rain had been more potent in those days. The man’s skin was red with welts and burns and he could no longer see. After helping the hapless fellow, he and Thurdon had continued their journey. Thurdon had talked to him on the way. Garan remembered his voice and words. Acid rain may not kill you, but it can make you mighty uncomfortable. Best you learn the signs, the color of the sky near sunset, the smell of the wind and the dust. Sometimes it will be a dry storm, but if there is moisture, young Garan, take no chances. Always take cover.

  “Garan? Are you well?” Laidan asked with a trembling voice.

  Garan blinked and let the memory of Thurdon slide away. “Yes, I’m fine.” He sat down on the ground between some rocks. “Best you rest now. We will move on after the storm … or in the morning. You must be tired.”

  Laidan sighed. “I am, though I feel much better to have you near.”

  Those words made his gut clench. He spoke carefully so as not to let her know how her words affected him. “And how is the light in your eyes? Does it still blind you?”

  “Still there, but dimmed enough for sleep, I think. Is there nowhere to lie down without rocks?”

  It seemed that Garan was sitting in the only space that was free of rocks and stones. “There is room here next to me. My body heat will warm you. Wait, I should have some crystals here to make light.”

  Setting down a small crystal, he hummed, drawing from it a soft glow. Now he could see around him and provide light for Laidan to step over to him. Garan stood and assisted her to his resting place. They stood together in that small spot. He towered over her, and she shivered from her cold and wet clothes.

  Garan thought of letting her use the space to sleep alone. But she needed warmth as well as rest. “Perhaps if I lie down you could use me as a cushion.”

  Laidan frowned up at him. “I could do that. But I … oh, Wing dust!”

  “What?”

  “Nothing … it’s just that I’m only wearing your shirt. It is not much … you know … of a barrier.”

  Garan gaped at her. What was she expecting? Lenk’s molestation of her had probably taught her to distrust all men, including him. “Laidan,” he spluttered, warring with his outrage and embarrassment. “I was sent to rescue you, not ravish you. What do you take me for? Lenk?”

  “Now wait a minute … I wasn’t suggesting … Lenk didn’t hurt me. He cared for me …”

  “When did you conclude that? When he stuck his tongue down your throat?” Garan threw up his hands in a gesture of disgust.

  “Why you …” She punched him in his tender gut.

  He winced, confused.

  “I don’t know what you mean … He sheltered me, caressed me, spoke to me gently as far as I remember. It was all so confusing at first. I thought he meant me harm, but then he …” She inhaled sharply as if suddenly recalling something unpleasant. “I don’t know what you did to him to make him tie you up. I wasn’t restrained, was I?”

  “No, you weren’t. Does that mean you were willing to—”

  “Just lie down, you big lout. I’m not going to discuss it with you and I don’t like the idea of pressing my half-naked body next to yours. Trust has something to do with it and so does modesty. What would Thurdon say? What if someone found us and accused me of being a whore?”

  “Whore? Why would anyone think that? I’m not Lenk, seeking to molest you. Anyway, I don’t think modesty should be your first concern. I’d be more worried about the light in your eyes. Being taken for a witch has even worse consequences.”

  Her deep inhalation and subsequent sob made him more than regret his words. She was ripping his heart to shreds with each body-wrenching cry. It couldn’t get worse, could it?

  “Laidan …’tis fine. I’m sure the light will fade soon. And you can trust me … I assure you I’m bone weary and not interested in your skinny body.”

  She gazed into his face, the whites of her eyes still glowing noticeably in the darkness of the cave. Tears glistened on her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand and took a deep, steadying breath. The hiss of the rain falling echoed through the cave mouth as she watched him intently. “I wish they’d sent someone else to rescue me.”

  Her words made his knees almost buckle. His inadequacies made him angry at himself.

  “So do I,” he replied with more heat than he meant.

  Doing his best not to touch her in any way, he stretched out in the space. Laidan turned and sniffed loudly before crouching next to him. She kept her face turned away from him and felt along the ground to measure how much room she had to rest in. Again Garan considered offering her the whole space and finding a large rock to perch on. But he feared what her reaction would be to anything he did.

  He extinguished the light. Soon his eyelids grew heavy and the warmth Laidan radiated as she slept next to him soothed him as he drifted off. When he woke some hours later, the rain had lessened. The clouds must have parted for there was a shaft of light piercing through the ceiling near the cave mouth. He dared not move in case he disturbed Laidan, even though he found it hard to fall back to sleep. He’d never slept this near to another person before. And she was a woman.

  That thought chilled him. Laidan was a woman … no longer a girl. The knot in his gut tightened. She mumbled in her sleep and shifted onto her back. Garan took the opportunity to turn over, easing the numbness in his shoulder. In the soft light he could see she looked peaceful in sleep—the curve of her cheek resting on her hand with her full mouth pouting. The Master Elder was right when he said she was pleasing to the eye. Too bad the ears had to suffer, though.

  Immediately, he regretted his thoughts. The poor girl had lost Thurdon, who had been like a father to her. Then she hadn’t been able to grieve because she’d been caught up in all that had befallen her. And he, with his mixed feelings, his childish jealousy and juvenile emotions, had only made matters worse. Well, as soon as he took her back to observatory, he could forget all about her and Thurdon. No—he was kidding himself. He couldn’t go a day without thinking about her. Curling his body in her direction, Garan again fell asleep.

  The scent of Laidan’s hair woke him in the morning. She was snuggled up against his chest. He became aware that his hand was draped over her bare thigh. Garan held still, uncertain of what to do. The shirt she was wearing had rucked up her leg during the night and was held there by the weight of his hand. His fingers tingled as if on fire. Laidan chose that moment to wake. He snatched his hand away as she sat up and elbowed him in the stomach.

  “What were you doing?” she said, yanking the shirt further down her thigh and glaring at him with fine shafts of light darting from her gaze.

  “Nothing. I only just woke up myself.” Oh why, he thought to himself, did my face have to heat with a guilty flush?

  Laidan narrowed her eyes. “You wouldn’t be trying to take advantage of me, would you?”

  Garan shook his head vigorously, feeling the skin on his face burn so much it must be glowing red. “No,” he said, swallowing hard. “I would never touch you.”

  “Really?” she asked in a strange tone. He didn’t know if she sounded pleased about his statement or not.

  The sunlight spreading through the cave revealed a few things that hadn’t been apparent the night before: bruises on her cheek, legs and arms, and that the cloth of his shirt was translucent. He gulped back a retort. Her lips quivered while she held his gaze. He thought she might cry again.

  “Breakfast?” he asked.

  Laidan stood up and patted down the shirt, pulling the length of it over her knees and blinking away the unshed tears. “I thought everything was wet.”

  Garan swallowed. “�
��Tis … but I have wine.”

  “Very well. I’ll have a sip. I don’t think bread soaked in putrid river water will do us any good.”

  “I think you are right. I threw it out last night in any case, while I was searching for the clothes.” He handed her the flask.

  As she drank, Garan reassessed their surroundings. The inside of the cave caught his attention. The color of the stone was interesting, variegated in shades of amber and red. Instead of the pinkish glow usual with the morning sun, the light had a reddish tinge. Some of the rocks looked regular, as if they had been cut by hand. He stood up and stepped carefully over the stones to explore the back of the cave. The light was dim toward the rear, but he did see something that interested him. He turned around, saw Laidan put the flask back in his knapsack and called, “Laidan?”

  “Yes, what is it?” She scuttled over the rocks to reach him.

  As the sun rose higher, the light penetrating the opening spread out, sending clear shafts of sunlight to illuminate the back of the cave. “Look at this.” Writing bedecked a side wall of the cave, a style he had not seen before. He ran his fingers along it, tracing the swirls of the script. Adjacent were portions of a beautiful mosaic, inlaid into the fabric of the wall. As the sun’s rays hit, the fragments glittered, spreading color like a rainbow onto the surrounding walls. Smooth stone containing the remnants of finely carved swirls and patterns spread up and around, adorning the corners and portions of the ceiling.

  Laidan’s draw dropped. She shared a look with Garan before returning her gaze to the wall. “What strange markings.” Her face grew blank for a moment before she shook herself and examined the wall more closely.

  “I don’t know what they signify,” Garan commented, tracing the symbols while Laidan looked on. “But ’tis old, pre-Shatterwing for certain.”

  “What do you think it means?”

  He turned toward her only to find her staring, transfixed, before she grabbed her head and moaned loudly. “Oh, Thurdon, stop.”

  Garan raised his eyebrow and reached out to steady her when she swayed on her feet. “What did you say?”

  Her brow clenched. “It’s Thurdon,” she grated out through clenched teeth. “He won’t calm down. Something about the markings has stirred him up.”

  “Did you say Thurdon?”

  She frowned, squinting at him through her pain. “Don’t you know?”

  He found it hard to swallow. “Know what?”

  The tension in her face relaxed though she looked disappointed. “I thought you might be able to help me. But as you don’t seem to know what this strange power is, you won’t be able to advise me after all. Ow!” Bending over, Laidan put both hands on her head and pulled her own hair.

  Garan was gravely suspicious about the state of Laidan’s mind. “Maybe you should lie down again and rest.”

  She pushed his hands away. “Lie down? But I’ve only just woken up. Thurdon is inside my head with the light. He did something to me, gave me something, but I don’t know what to do and it hurts and it’s addling my brain.”

  Garan’s knees weakened and he sank down to perch on a rock. “The light from your eyes is something Thurdon did to you?”

  She stood there, brows drawn down low as she regarded him. “Well, yes. Hurt a lot at the time. But he was dying then—said something about not being able to prepare me. He mentioned your name but I’m not sure why. He’s been ranting in my head ever since—him and the light filling my head with confusion, making me unable to function. He was quiet this morning, and I thought he was going away until I saw the markings, which means he saw the markings. I don’t understand why they have excited him all over again. I can’t make it out and he’s not saying exactly. They mean something, but I don’t know what.”

  “I see,” Garan replied. He didn’t really “see” but thought that was the best answer. This was why the Master Elder wanted her back. This was why Thurdon was important. Whatever gift or power Thurdon had had, he’d given it to Laidan. Garan had no memory of Thurdon having a special power or eyes that glowed. He only remembered the love that he had for the old man, long buried in anger.

  Kneeling down beside him, she touched his forearm lightly with her hand. “Do you understand, truly?”

  Her wide eyes were liquid pools of light. He licked his lips, feeling as if this moment was very important but not confident of how to proceed. “Not fully, but I think I understand the general idea of what has happened.”

  “But do you know what it is, what he did to me? Can it be fixed?”

  He paled. He didn’t know what to say to her and felt guilty about bending the truth—lying, actually. She needed hope, not ignorance from him. He patted her hand.

  “When we return to the observatory, I’m sure the Master Elder will know what to do. He sent me to fetch you in the first place so he must have some idea. He said that you were important.”

  “He did? Me? But I don’t understand. You said he sent you to fetch me. Then you didn’t come because you wanted …?”

  “Laidan, I …”

  She snatched her hand back. Her expression clouded as she turned away. “I thought that you came because … never mind.”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. Really, it’s nothing.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The Bandits’ Snare

  Laidan stayed within the cave, sitting by Garan and trying to cover up the noise of her stomach grumbling by humming to herself. As she looked at the entrance the light in her mind haloed everything. Yet when she kept her gaze to the shadows, she could tell the light had dimmed since those first painful moments when Thurdon had thrust his gift into her. Her emotions were ragged and she felt physically numb.

  Taking refuge at the observatory was the only choice open to her now. All her choices, whether they had existed previously or not, had disappeared the moment Thurdon had passed on his power. Why had he done this to her without explaining some small part of it? A sigh escaped from her and her gaze slid to Garan, who sat staring at nothing.

  “Is it safe to leave now?” she asked.

  “Not yet. We have to wait until the rain dries up. Don’t want to be exposed to the fumes. Then we will go.”

  She looked down at her bare legs and sighed. “I must find something to wear. I can’t be seen like this.”

  Garan turned his attention to her. “How do you feel?”

  She smiled at him, glad for his concern. “Better. Everything is quiet now; well, Thurdon isn’t shouting anymore. But I can’t think properly and I can’t remember things. It’s like there is a large lump of rock inside my head.”

  Garan nodded, as if he understood.

  “Clothes?” she prompted.

  Garan rubbed a hand through his curls and tugged on his earlobe. “I have an idea. What about this?” He took off his Skywatcher cloak.

  She stared at him. “I’m not cold, Skywatcher, I’m half-naked. What will that do?”

  “You really try my patience. I have needle and thread. I can fashion it into a kind of covering.”

  Suddenly she was touched, because she knew how much the cloak meant to him. He had studied for years to finally be awarded the status of Skywatcher. “I see. It might work. Not bad for a Sky Eyes.”

  She let him drape his cloak over her. Now that it was dry, it smelled of dust and of him. He sewed a side seam and stitched across one shoulder. Laidan was quite astounded at how deft he was. He even managed to get the moon and stars pattern to line up along the hem and the waist to cinch in just so. With his shirt underneath she felt almost decent. In fact she was better attired than she had ever been with Thurdon, except for the bare legs.

  “Well? How do I look?”

  Garan’s eyes glittered as he looked her up and down. When his gaze met hers he looked away. “You look … decent enough.”

  “Oh,” she said, disappointed, and then crouched down on a rock. Unbidden tears began to sting her eyes. She sniffed then, feeling suddenly quite overwhe
lmed by the loss of her mentor and the situation she was in. Garan moved nearer the cave entrance and peered out, oblivious to her suffering.

  From where she sat the air was full of the vinegar smell. She waved her hand in front of her nose. “What a stink!”

  “’Tis the fumes from the rain. Best we draw back into the rear of the cave again. Perhaps the wind will dispel it soon.”

  As she stood, she commented to Garan, “We always traveled to the observatory before the season of storms began. We would have been there already if I hadn’t insisted that Thurdon eat breakfast—the poisoned breakfast.”

  Garan harrumphed. “Don’t blame yourself. ’Tis not your fault.” He went to the darkest part of the cave. “We should rest again before we leave. It will be a long, hungry walk back to the observatory. The fumes from the storm are getting quite strong.”

  Laidan watched him as he stepped carefully over the rocks and stumbled on a stone. Choking back a cough from the smell, she followed him.

  With her back to the decorated wall, Laidan leaned her head to one side. She was conscious of Garan’s bulk, but he seemed to be studiously ignoring her and keeping his body from coming into contact with hers. She remembered waking to the warm touch of his hand on her thigh, and how she had overreacted to it. They always seemed to rub each other the wrong way. Sometimes she couldn’t help it. “I’m not very comfortable here. Do you mind if I sit next to you?”

  Garan’s head jerked in her direction, his eyes wide. “Next to me? Er … not at all—that is, if you feel you are safe enough.”

  As she snuggled down next to him, she smiled and said with exaggerated force, “Garan, you do try my patience.”

  *

  Judging by the gnawing hunger in her stomach, Laidan guessed it was well past noon when they left the cave. As they walked along in the direction that, Garan assured her, led back toward Vanden, so that they could circle around it and head to the observatory, she saw that the pools of acid rain had dried and the sky was a clear violet color. A faint vinegar taint lingered in the air. Sheltering his gaze from the early afternoon sun with his hand, Garan searched the distant skyline, eyes tracking along the mountain range. She guessed he was trying to sight Trithorn Peak. Laidan studied the horizon herself. There were lots of mountains from this angle and not one seemed familiar to her. With a sinking feeling, she suspected they were lost.