“Very well.” The White clucked his tongue at Kallon. “I cannot accept your vouch for this human, if there is no dragon to vouch for you. You understand.” He hoisted Orman, bound and listless, with his forelegs. “Armitage, you know what to do.” He soared to the sky.
“No!” Kallon dove. He just missed Orman’s legs and tumbled into the lean-to. The woven structure exploded, raining twigs and straw, obscuring his view. He lost which way was up. Just as he got his legs beneath himself, pain sliced into the base of his tail. He snarled, swiping instinctively.
He struck the dark human’s chest, and the man stumbled back, but immediately raised his sword again. The blade captured a flash of sunlight, and as before, Kallon was thrust back in his mind to a place of dim, churning fear. He knew that sword. He had stared up at it before. The curved handle had been lifted high to strike, and Kallon had closed his eyes and waited to die.
A collective gasp from the crowd drew him out of his memory. He blinked and lurched to his feet. Around him, Greens, Blues and Grays pressed in, growling at the human in warning, surrounding Kallon with protection.
He had no time to thank them; he had to follow the White. He leapt into the air, and pressed hard against the sky. In the distance, he saw the same glitter of cloud-like shine from before. He swerved to follow. Hot pain clamped his spine, twisting him in mid-air. He struggled to stay airborne, but his injured wing drooped, and his tail went heavy and unable to rudder.
He tried to push on, but he could only watch as the dragon, with Orman, faded and then finally disappeared. He lost them. He managed to hover for a few seconds, but in the end, he knew he’d been beaten. Wounded and bleeding, he had to give up.
With a roar of frustration, he dropped. He landed too fast, and his legs crumpled. His belly hit hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. His tail flared with pain, but before he could cry out, he was engulfed in darkness.
Chapter Twenty-One
“It is four o’clock, isn’t it?” Riza asked Rusic. She waited, perched on a barstool in the Brown Barrel, and fervently hoped that Jastin had changed his mind about meeting her here.
Rusic tugged a pocket clock from behind his apron and nodded. “Quarter past, in fact.”
“He must have gotten busy. Oh well. I need to check on my bird.” She slid off the barstool and passed Old Yammer, who gave her a toothless grin. She hurried toward the stairs.
“Do forgive my tardiness.”
Riza heard Jastin’s voice over the heavy thud of his footsteps. She grimaced and hurried even faster toward the stairs. “Don’t be silly,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m sure you’re busy. I’d just as soon go to my room.” She made it to the first step.
“Nonsense.” Jastin’s hand caught her elbow and steered her around. “I’m here now, and I’m famished. You?”
“Actually, I’m not hungry at all.”
“No? More for me, then.” Jastin nodded at Rusic, who disappeared behind the kitchen door and returned with a small, cloth-covered box. Jastin tucked this under his arm as he pulled Riza past the bar. “Blade will escort us.”
“Where are we going?” she asked, trying not to trip on her own feet as he yanked her outside.
“Picnic.” He pushed the small crate into Blade’s saddlebag.
Riza blinked.
“What’s that look for?” he asked.
She shrugged a little. “I guess I didn’t think of you as a picnic kind of person.”
Jastin’s eyes squinted. Then he hoisted her and sat her hard onto Blade’s saddle.
She hunched forward in the seat as Jastin settled behind her. His arm squeezed around her belly. “I feel like a prisoner,” she muttered, squirming.
“A what?”
“The way you push me around, and bark at me, and now you’re holding me so tight I can’t even breathe.”
Jastin let go. He switched hands on the reins, and thumped his heels against Blade’s ribs. The horse lurched into a trot, jerking so hard that Riza squeaked and flailed, and finally grabbed the saddle horn to keep from falling. She was trying to get her heartbeat under control when he spoke.
“I didn’t realize I was barking. I’ve always thought myself a gentleman with you.”
“Well,” Riza said, concentrating on squeezing her legs and trying to find Blade’s rhythm so she didn’t bounce so much in the saddle. “You do order me around.”
His voice was soft when he spoke again. “Then I owe you an apology, milady field mouse.”
Riza glanced over her shoulder at him. His dark eyes focused ahead.
She looked back to the trail. Blade was carrying them far from town. For a time, she listened to the crunch of Blade’s hooves against brittle grass, and to the whistle of sparrow song through leafless trees. The ride might have been enjoyable, if she wasn’t so tired already from trying to hold herself steady.
Slowly, in tiny degrees, she began to relax. She leaned back, just touching Jastin enough to stabilize so she could rest her arms from gripping the saddle horn, and to loosen her legs around Blade’s ribs. Jastin didn’t even seem to notice. Now she could close her eyes and breathe in each dry breeze that tickled her face.
She lost track of how long they’d traveled before she felt a shift. She opened her eyes to find they’d followed the tree line of the mountain forest, and that they were on a slight descent toward a huge expanse of red clay. “Where are we?” she asked.
“Fell Lake.” His voice was close to her ear. She realized she’d been resting the back of her head against his shoulder. She bolted upright, and found that his hand had made its way to her stomach and gently pressed there.
“This is a lake?” she asked, twisting to dislodge his hand.
“Used to be. It was the largest body of water in all of Leland, though shallow enough for a horse to walk across, even before the drought.” He urged her out of the saddle, and then slipped off, as well. He retrieved a woven blanket and the crate, spread the blanket over the cracked dirt, and sat. “Dinner.” Then he bowed his head. “If you find yourself hungry, after all.”
“I guess I am, a little.” She plopped beside him on the blanket and pulled the cloth from the crate. Warm beef and rolls released delicious steam. She reached for a roll, and bumped hands with Jastin, who’d had the same idea.
“Ladies first, of course,” he said, and rested his hand against his chest. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and she tried to remember if she’d seen him without them before. His fingers were thick and dusted with black, curling hair. Scars criss-crossed his skin. Beneath his hand, at the vee of his collar, more curling hairs tangled above a slash of peeking white.
“Is that a bandage? Are you bleeding?” She brushed away his hand and peered close. The bandage was speckled with seeping blood. “What happened?”
“I tangled with a tree in my rush to see you.”
She frowned. He was lying, but there was no sense in arguing. She sat back and poked at her roll. “I realize I don’t even know why you’re here in Durance. What sort of business are you in? Are you something of a warrior?”
“Yes, something of that nature.”
“And you’re new here, like me.”
“Yes, I’ll only be here for a short time. Then I’ll return to South Morlan, where I prefer to live between journeys.” He took a large bite of bread, and Riza watched his jaw work as he chewed. The lines of his face were cleaned of their usual dust, and the gray at the tip of his beard stood out more sharply against glistening black whiskers.
“Do you have family there?” She lifted her roll for a bite.
He swallowed, eyes scanning the horizon. “My wife’s family lives near there.”
Riza paused, her bread in mid-air. “You have a wife?”
He tore what was left of his bread in half, and tossed the two pieces to Blade. “I had a wife. A long time ago.” He tugged a slab of beef from the crate and offered it to her. “Does that surprise you?”
“Yes, actually.” She accepted
the meat, and sandwiched it into her roll. “Did you love her?”
“Of course I did.”
“What happened to her?”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
She sighed. “I know.” She nibbled at her sandwich. Feeling him watching, she shifted self-consciously. She tried to find the other side of the lakebed, but it disappeared into the hazy distance. She glanced back at him. He was still watching. She cleared her throat. “So why did you want me to come here with you?”
His thick brows arched. “It isn’t obvious?”
“No.” He narrowed his eyes, as though trying to decide if she was lying. “Well,” she added. “Rusic seems to think it’s something of a courtship, but that can’t possibly be the reason.”
“Why not?”
She snorted. “Because you don’t even like me.”
“Why do you say that?”
“First I’m a beggar, then I’m a field mouse. I’m skinny. I’m trouble. You don’t know anything about me, but you’re always angry with me. You watch me as though I’m going to do something criminal—”
He held up his hand. “All right. I see what you mean.” He brushed his palms down his thighs, and then pushed to stand. “You’re right. At first, I didn’t trust you. I didn’t believe your intentions were as innocent as they appeared.”
“My intentions? What do you mean?”
He moved to Blade, and opened the leather flap of a saddlebag. “I’ve since come to suspect that you are genuine, after all. Misguided and foolish, but genuine.”
“That sounds an awful lot like you still don’t like me.”
He tugged a wine bottle from the bag, and two small mugs. He returned to the blanket and sat, offering her a mug. She accepted. “Does that bother you?” he asked.
She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Not really. Except that you order me around.”
He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured dark wine into her mug. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.” He touched the neck of the bottle to his own mug, and filled that, too. “You have to understand, I’ve spent a number of years alone, traveling from city to city. It doesn’t require manners. I suppose I’ve forgotten how to be with a lady.” He sipped his wine, and kept his gaze toward the blanket.
For once, he lacked the dark, intense expression she’d come to recognize. He actually seemed thoughtful. And somehow, younger. “You must have loved her very much.”
He glanced up. “Hm?”
“Your wife. You must have loved her very much, if you’ve chosen to spend so many years alone since she died.”
“Yes.” He nodded, and looked down again as he sipped. “I did.”
“How did she die?” she asked.
He touched the bottom of her mug and urged it toward her mouth. “Aren’t you thirsty?”
She sipped, and then rested her mug on her thigh. She stared down into the wine and watched it ripple as the silence between them stretched.
“Fire,” he finally said. “She was burned.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.”
“She was carrying my child. It was to be our first.” His grip tightened around his mug. “She liked to walk, like you do.”
“What happened?”
He drained his wine. He drew the back of his scarred hand across his mouth. “I heard her scream. There was a loud explosion. By the time I reached her, she was…” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “There was a circle of burned earth all around her. I saw a gold dragon flying away.”
“A dragon? But why? For what purpose?”
“I never knew.” He poured fresh wine into his mug, and offered the bottle toward hers, but hers was still full. She shook her head. “I vowed after that to hunt every dragon I laid my eyes on,” he said. “For the rest of my life.”
Riza sucked in a breath. “You’re a dragon hunter.”
“Yes.”
She pushed to her feet, spilling wine on her boot, the blanket, his thigh. “You kill dragons! For money! That isn’t even legal!”
Jastin jumped up, too, and growled at the stain on his leather pants. He grabbed the cloth and swiped at the wetness. “A man needs a living, Riza. No one scrutinizes the law when the beasts are destroying livestock and hoarding the land richest with crystal.” He tossed the cloth back to the blanket. “Dragons may have served a purpose for humans once, but they have long outlived it.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying that. They are living creatures, with hearts and souls. They have kindness, Jastin. I don’t know why one dragon out of so many chose to hurt your wife, and I’m very sorry for you. But not every dragon deserves to die because of the action of one.”
“That is beside the point.” He stepped toward her. She shrank back, and his face took on familiar, angry shadows. “Things are the way they are, and I am too old to take a different route. I haven’t cared in a very long time about right or wrong. I haven’t cared about anything. Until now.” His hands gripped her waist. “You are caught up in things that far exceed your understanding, Riza. I’m giving you a chance to get out.”
She pushed at his hands. “What are you talking about? Let me go.”
“That first time we met, in the barn, I recognized the scent on you. I have been watching you; you’re right about that. I’ve followed you. I know where you go when you walk the day away.”
Her skin went cold. “What do you mean?”
“That beast you’ve befriended cannot be trusted. You know nothing about him, except what he wishes you to know. Already the town is talking about him, and how dangerous he is.”
“He isn’t dangerous, Jastin. You are.”
“Even so, the town is talking. And if they learn what I have learned about you, you will suffer.”
“I don’t care. Let me go.”
“It doesn’t have to be this way. Give him up to me. I’ll protect you if you help me.”
“Help you kill him? Are you insane?” She pushed with all her strength at his hands, and twisted away from him. “Leave me alone! I will not help you harm him.”
“Yes, you will,” he said, and captured her shoulders. She dug her toes into the clay, but it crumbled, and he pulled her close. One strong arm wrapped her waist as the fingers of his other hand lifted her chin. Panic welled as she met his eyes. “You will help me,” he said again. “In one way or another.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kallon felt a sting in his tail and the throb of cramped muscles before he was fully aware of himself. As he came to consciousness the pain only increased, but he couldn’t remember why he hurt. He opened his eyes in the gray twilight, and the memory came rushing like a gale wind. His failed attempt at being a hero.
A scrawny White and a human had been his only adversaries, and still he failed. He had missed every cue, had bobbled his attempts to free Orman, and had left his vulnerable hindquarters exposed as a perfect target. Wouldn’t his father have been proud?
He curled around to inspect the wound. The blade had sliced at exactly the point where his wide tail met his rump, into the sensitive flesh exposed between oddly angled scales. It was too skilled to be coincidence. The human had known just where to strike. Kallon considered himself lucky. The gash had already crusted over and stopped bleeding. Had the slice been deep enough to reach bones and artery, he would have bled to death. Many a dragon died in battle of such a wound. Just like his father.
It had all happened too fast. Why did the White want Orman, and why would he lie about the wizard being a spy? To where was Orman taken?
If Kallon was going to search, he’d have to start in the mountains, but darkness was coming quickly, and he was too weak. The entire attempt would be hopeless anyway. If he found Orman, what then would he do? Fight to free him? Coerce the dragon to let Orman go? The White had already proven the name Redheart was only the faded remains of a fallen champion. Kallon was a nobody.
He was a weary and aching nobody who was crusted and thirsty and hungry. He couldn’t even remember
the last decent kill he’d eaten. Ever since Riza had interrupted his life, he’d been off his schedule for flying and hunting. Of course, he was the one who’d dragged the girl to his cave to begin with, and he was the one who’d taken to nightly sweeps over the dwelling where she worked, just to keep an eye on her.
He still didn’t understand why he felt compelled to do that. Nor did he understand why he’d gone after Orman and the White. Humans were complicating his life!
Thinking of it that way, it only seemed right that he ought to get something back for all his troubles. A juicy sow would be just the thing. He’d already visited the human village three times this week without casting suspicion, and the smell of the porkers had watered his mouth even then. It would be easy. Just a swoop and a snatch. Humans owed it to him.
He struggled to his feet, legs tingling. He spread his wings and experimentally pumped them. His right wing ached, but worked. He thrust into the air. His heavy tail dangled and was practically useless. His flight was clumsy and unnatural. He’d never be able to chase down anything in this state, anyway, so, really, his only option was to raid the pig farmer.
Nearing the edge of town, he arched his wings to coast. He spied the farm and the grunting mangle of porkers digging in a mound of dry sand. He circled once to make sure the area was clear of humans. Night was just settling, and offered good cover. Silently, he dropped. He reached out his claws.
A scream erupted somewhere to his left. Startled, he missed the catch, and his knuckles cracked against the wooden fence, knocking a post. The post wobbled and fell, and slammed against his wounded rump. He bellowed in pain.
A woman emerged from a small outbuilding, waving her arms and screeching. “Dragon’s got my pig! Dragon!” The farmhouse door flew open, and a man stumbled out. He tripped as he tried to fasten his pants. Squealing pigs charged the broken fence and swarmed and squeaked in a churning, pink tornado.
Kallon couldn’t climb fast enough. Blood oozed from his opened tail wound. Even his knuckles were bleeding again. He must have lost Riza’s bandages when he hit the fence. He could see the spotted trail of blood he left behind for them to track, but he could do nothing about it. He just flew.
Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) Page 11
