The circlet began to vibrate. Stabbing pain shot through his wrists and sliced up into his shoulders. “I will not let go!” he shouted, as he always shouted, and held the circlet to his breast with all his strength. A sudden blast of cold wind slammed into his spine and nearly sent him sprawling. “The circlet will grant my desires!” The wind redoubled, swirling into a tornado that tore his bedding from the floor, ripped scrolls from shelves in the room, and knocked Whitetail off his feet.
“Release the circlet!” cried Whitetail, clambering to brace on a wall torch.
“No! It is close! I can feel it working!” He heard a crack of bellowing thunder. Was it outside, or in the very room? He glanced toward the window. Just then, the circlet was snatched by the howling wind. “No!” He dove for it, but it dipped, bounced against his fist, and clattered to the floor. All went quiet.
He stood panting, and stared at the tiny crown of gold. Then he surged toward the window, eyes scanning the skies for dragon mobs demanding justice. No one. He searched the ground. Only the twinkling torchlight of the dragon village met his gaze. Echoes of dragon laughter found his ears.
Another failure! He roared, and stomped toward the crown, scooping it onto a claw. “Imposter!” He spun to face his trembling advisor. “You have fooled me, Whitetail! This is only an imposter!”
Whitetail pressed his muzzle to the floor. “Forgive me, Your Eminence, but I assure you it is the circlet.”
“Liar!” Blackclaw lobbed the circlet toward Whitetail’s lowered head, and it careened against his bony skull with a crack. “The wizard tricked you. Redheart tricked you! It must be why he put up so little fight. He wanted us to take this one. The false one.”
Suddenly it made sense. He smiled. That tricky Red. Blackclaw could almost admire the ruse. It had worked. He wasn’t easily fooled, but Redheart and the wizard had managed it. “I am almost embarrassed the truth has only come to me now. After all these years.”
“Leader Blackclaw,” said Whitetail, his voice muffled by the cold floor, which now had scrolls and feathers and ash scattered across it. “I must assure you yet again the circlet in your possession is authentic.” He lifted his chin. “It was tested by our own mage, and verified. I have witnessed its power.”
Blackclaw seized Whitetail’s puny horns and yanked him to his feet. “Of course it has power, you idiot. It is an excellent forgery.” Then, with calm grace and majesty, he released the white dragon, bent to retrieve the circlet, and offered it out. “Now. You will find this wizard, extract the information concerning the authentic circlet, and kill him.”
“And if he has no information?”
Blackclaw sighed. Why did he have to do all of the thinking? “If he claims he has no information, he is lying. If you cannot force it from him creatively, consider his fate to be your own. Understand?”
Whitetail nodded. He took the circlet, but did not meet Blackclaw’s eyes. Blackclaw poked him in the nose. “What is it, Whitetail?”
“Suppose the wizard has another vassal who comes to his defense?”
“I’m failing to see your concern.”
“We barely managed to explain Bren Redheart’s demise. How would we explain yet another dragon death?”
Blackclaw shook his head. “You did well in numbers in school, didn’t you, Whitetail? Not too clever with creative thinking, though.” He turned for the door. “The dragon slayer is already on his way here. Use him again. This time, though, do it without the mess.” Then he pointed to the floor. “Speaking of mess, get this place in order. I will sleep across the hall tonight.”
After a pause, Whitetail called from behind him. “The wizard’s name was Thistleby, wasn’t it?”
“It was,” Blackclaw replied.
“Forgive me again, Your Eminence, but is this not an extreme measure? We both agree that your plan is working. I do not see how you even need the circlet anymore.”
Blackclaw stopped. He turned to glare. “Whether the wizard leads us to the actual circlet is no longer the point. No one makes a fool of me, Whitetail. The old man will pay for the years of pain I have wasted.”
“Of course,” said Whitetail. “You are right, as always.”
Blackclaw swung open the door of Whitetail’s quarters. “That female you brought me this afternoon was not immaculate, as you claimed. I was going to overlook your deceit, but your constant questioning of my decisions leads me to suspect you are churning something in that little white brain.”
Whitetail gasped, and bowed his face so low to the floor that his breath created two pools of steam on the marble. “An honest mistake, Leader Blackclaw! I assure you I am churning nothing!”
“Yes, well, we will see. Now get up. Watching you grovel makes my back ache. Rouse me when you hear from the dragon hunter, but not a moment sooner.”
He slammed the door.
Chapter Thirteen
When Kallon awoke, the high morning sun had already baked the cave air. He wheezed, his thirsty tongue flopping. He wanted water. A lot of water. He shifted his weight to climb to his feet.
He felt movement. Only then did he remember the human, and he glanced back to find her lying against his rump. She was hugging his tail, which encircled her like a vine. He flicked his tail tip to budge her loose. She stirred, and then tightened her grip.
“Human,” he said as gently as he could, so he wouldn’t startle her. “Release me.”
“Mm?” She opened an eye.
“Release me.” He curled around to give her shoulder a light bump with his snout. “Going to drink some water. Do not want to drag you.”
“Oh.” She smiled and sat up, and rubbed her palms against her face. “What time is it?”
He unwound his tail from her legs. “The sun is high and very hot. Hotter than usual.”
“I dreamed I was in the tavern kitchen, and the cooking fire caught my dress and was trying to eat me. Where are you going to get some water?”
“My lake.”
She stood. “You have a whole lake all to yourself?”
“Not to myself. Anyone who wants to drink can drink, or swim.”
“Can I?”
Kallon eyed her. “Any dragon.” He left her there, and sleepily wandered toward the daylight. “The lake is high above my cave.”
The human followed. She shielded her eyes as she gazed up and over the rock face. “A lake in the mountains? It must be beautiful.”
“It is. It’s my favorite sleeping place, besides the cave, of course.” Kallon stretched his stiff wings. He didn’t usually sleep so late in the morning, and his bones complained. But he felt more awake, and somehow more alive, than usual.
The girl gave an awkward smile. “I don’t suppose I could climb up there.”
“Unlikely,” he said.
“If I had wings like you I could see it.”
“Yes. But you have none.”
“If I had wings like you I could fly just about anywhere I wanted.” She jutted out her hands from her sides, and closed her eyes. “It must be wonderful to fly.”
“Wonderful?” He hadn’t thought of it that way. Natural, of course. Necessary. But wonderful? He pondered. “Feels right and good to taste the sun in my teeth and feel it bubble up like water beneath my scales.”
The girl’s eyes opened. She smiled. A strange look came over her face, and she seemed almost to glow. “I wish I could fly.”
He lowered his snout, studying her. He gave her a quick sniff, searching for the source of her radiance. Apparently, only her face was affected. Did he look like that when he thought of flying? Maybe he used to, but not in a very long time. He probably didn’t look like that when he thought about anything. But to never fly? He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be stuck to the earth forever. “You’ll never get any closer to the sky,” he said.
“Unless I was a dragon. Or knew one.”
“You know me. I’m a dragon.”
She clasped her hands and squealed, “You would take me with you?�
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He couldn’t believe he didn’t see that coming. “Now…I didn’t say that. The lake is a long way up.”
“I don’t mind. I’m not afraid.”
“It’s just a lake. They’re all the same.”
“I haven’t seen a lake in a long time.” She reached for his side. “Do I climb? How do I…?”
He leaned away. “Human, I was only arguing that you do know a dragon. I didn’t mean to invite you. Not now. Not today.”
“But I’m here now, and I might not get another chance.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
She frowned, and her eyes drifted toward the ground. “Oh. I see.”
“So. You understand?”
“Yes.” She nodded. “I understand.”
“It’s not that I don’t want you with me,” he tried to explain.
“Yes, it is.”
Actually, she was right. “But you understand. I like to be alone.”
“Yes, I said I understand.” She crossed her arms.
“Maybe another day—”
“You’re not going to take me flying, ever.” She moved toward the trees. “Thank you for letting me stay with you last night. I won’t bother you any more.”
She disappeared behind a gray elm trunk, and he watched her go. He wanted to fly, and tried to, but his feet were boulders. Even his wings sagged. Somehow, she’d sucked the enjoyment right out of it. He finally grunted. “Very well. Just a short trip.”
Out popped her smiling face from behind the tree. “Really?”
“Hurry, before I change my mind.” He offered his foreleg. “Climb here, then to my shoulders. Mind my scales, I don’t like them pushed the wrong way.” She came around to his leg, and stared at it as though afraid to touch it. “Change your mind?” he asked.
“No.” She pressed one foot to his leg, then hopped up to bring the other beside it, and wobbled atop his knee. Her small hands scrambled for a hold against his neck, twisting his scales.
“Ouch! Human, take care!”
“Sorry.” She pressed against his shoulder, and managed to swing one leg up and over his neck. She felt like a thousand ants across his back, crawling and nipping. His jaw tightened against the reflex to buck her off. Then she settled. Her arms gripped around his neck. “There. I’m ready.”
“Hold tight.”
“I am.”
He fanned out his wings, then launched straight up. The girl gave no sound, but her arms squeezed tighter. He tilted, getting accustomed to her weight, and tried to stay as even as he could while still banking. Fat boulders and strewn rocks grew smaller beneath him. He leveled off and veered for the distant firs.
Of course the mountains looked different from this height, as they always did. From the ground, they were towering peaks. Impassable. But from up here, he could look down at them and soar right over. The rounded mountains were tamed, and only his shadow struggled across the crags.
“Kallon,” said the girl near his ear. “It’s incredible.”
He’d almost forgotten she was there. “Not afraid?”
“No. It’s so beautiful.” Her voice sounded strained, like she was trying to catch her breath.
He slowed. It wasn’t so distracting, after all, having the girl along for the ride. He turned east, deciding to take the long way around.
“Look there!” she said as her weight shifted. “I see a tiny river. That must be why the trees here are so green. And those thick trees in the distance, is that a forest?”
Kallon answered without looking. “Murk Forest.” It bordered the far edge of the human village, but farmers had always kept a safe distance. Even dragons avoided flying above it; the trees inhaled light and exhaled fear. For as long as Kallon could remember, as long as any could remember, Murk Forest had been at the same time part of Leland Province, and yet, somehow distinctly removed.
“So many other mountains are all rock and dead trees,” the girl asked. “Why is that?”
“No rain here for almost two years. Leland Province is turning into a desert.”
“My home village has been dry, too, but it does rain. What happened to your rain?”
“Don’t know. Orman says the magic here is as dry as the meadows. That something is killing the mountains.”
“How sad. It’s like a quilt, cut into squares of all browns and grays. Oh, except over there.” She sucked in a breath. “Kallon, look. There are huge holes everywhere.”
He tilted to look. Usually, he pretended he didn’t see them. Looking now, his gut clenched. “That used to be some of the best hunting land around. My father taught me there how to swoop down onto a boar without making a sound.”
“What happened to it?”
“Let’s get to the lake.”
“Wait,” she said. “I want to see. Can you go lower?”
He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be reminded of how things used to be, but he dropped to go closer.
He slowed over the first gaping crater. It was a hole that could easily swallow him, and several more dragons, beside. The black dirt had been dredged and left for dead, and had decayed to a pale brown. The hole was so deep, he couldn’t see the bottom.
“Who did this?” the girl asked.
“Humans.”
“But why?”
“For the crystals,” he said. “This land was given to a tribe of Yellows, but not before humans scraped it empty of anzanite.”
“What good is land that’s been destroyed like that?”
He snorted. “No good. No good at all anymore.” He pumped his wings to move on, and pointed. “Over there, they found silphire. That used to be a wide, green valley.”
She made a choked sort of sound, and he took some satisfaction in that. “It’s so ugly,” she said. “Big brown holes all over.”
He swooped up high and turned his back. His thirst drove him faster toward the lake. “Not so many holes here as the land past Orman’s side of the mountain.”
“Who’s Orman? Oh! Look! I see the lake! It’s so calm and sparkly, like a big blue pillow on a green fir bed.” The thrill in her voice made him smile. He circled the lake once, giving her a long, full view. “I hope the humans never come up here for crystals,” she said.
Her words caught him off-guard. Something in the way she spoke about her own people in the third person. He descended, shaking his head. “The mountains already belong to the dragons. No venur would dare challenge that.” He landed gently on a bank of soft grass. “My sleeping spot.”
She scrambled against him, kicking his ribs as she climbed to drop off. She dangled, then let go, and thudded to both feet, but flopped back onto her bottom. “Oof!”
“You hurt?”
“No,” she said, giggling. “Just clumsy.” She stood, and brushed at the back of her dress. “Are you going to swim?” Her cheeks were red, and she panted as though she’d just done the flying, instead of him.
“You look tired. As though you can’t breathe.”
“Not tired. But I was having a hard time getting my breath. I’m better now. It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”
That glow was in her face again. He liked it. He gave her another sniff.
She grinned, and darted toward the water. “Come on. I want to see you swim.”
Chapter Fourteen
Jastin and Blade trudged across his landlord’s wilted field. The morning heat was already oppressive, making Jastin feel as though he was squashed into Blade’s saddle and held there by a sweltering, invisible hand. “Hotter than blazes,” Jastin mumbled, and yanked at the ties of his leather vest.
He was curling around to stuff it into saddlebag when Blade snorted. “Fizzitmeallenwhum,” said the horse.
Jastin stared. Were hallucinations the first sign of heat stroke? Instead of pushing his vest into a saddlebag, he pulled out a canteen of water. He gulped a few times and then splashed a handful over his face.
He dug the heel of his hand at his eyes
. He stared at Blade again. His mount swung his head to look back at him, dark eyes bored. “Thirsty?” Jastin asked, and offered out the canteen. Blade just lowered his head to nose around in a patch of crispy grass.
“No, didn’t think so.” Jastin watched a moment longer anyway, eyes narrowed, until Blade stamped a hoof, as eager to get moving as Jastin was. “Fine, let’s go. Just let me do all the talking from now on, eh?” He reached to replace his canteen.
“Fizzitmeallenwhum,” said Blade.
Jastin launched from the saddle and landed on both feet. “What in the—?” He wrapped his fingers around Blade’s bridle and glared into his face. “I don’t go for any nonsense. No horse of mine is going to blither like an idiot.”
“Uppindesdurance?” Blade’s throat worked like he was going to throw up.
Jastin’s face involuntarily contorted. He backed up. Then he realized he recognized a word. “Durance? Are you asking about Durance?” Then another thought came to him. He recognized the voice. Far from a guttural bass like his mighty stallion should have, if the animal really could speak, instead the voice was soft soprano, and just taking on the huskiness of age.
“Layce Phelcher? Is that you?” Jastin moved closer again and ran his hand over Blade’s snout, searching. “Are you in there?”
“Yes!” Her voice squealed with excitement, which was a pitifully demeaning thing, coming from the mouth of a warrior’s mount.
“What are you doing?”
“Ieeetanowhumpwhumpinnarance!”
Jastin rolled his eyes. “I can’t understand a blasted thing you’re trying to say. Come out and talk or let me get on with my plans.”
“Cannomoutimere. Oweringsforvorham.”
“Vorham? Is he trying to contact me?”
“Oweringsforvorham.”
Jastin growled. “Blasted wizards. Can’t ever use conventional means for anything.” He led Blade to the line of trees where the field met the dying woods, and tied him off. “I’ll be right back,” he said, patting Blade’s rump. Then he reached for his leather vest again and slipped his arms through.
Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) Page 7
