“What’s going on? Why is the baby crying?”
Decan came running around the life tree with a dead hare in one hand and a spear in the other. Panting heavily, he looked at his sister, who stared at him in disbelief.
“Triss? What’s the matter? Did something happen?” he said again.
“Where were you? Why did you leave the camp without telling anyone? I thought something had happened!”
The words burst out with such force that tears followed in their wake. Trista immediately regretted yelling at Dalkeira. She looked at the dragon, but Dalkeira wouldn't meet her eyes. The dragon was restlessly whipping her tail through the sand at the bottom of the Pillar of Life. The sand hissed behind her, but the sound was drowned out by the baby’s screaming.
Trista reached out with her mind, only to encounter an unusual cold feeling as the dragon actively ignored her mental approach. Since she could think of no way to work things out with Dalkeira, Trista focused on reassuring the baby. She walked back and forth, softly rocking her. In the meantime, Decan look confused by his sister’s outburst.
“I was only gone for a few moments,” said Decan. “I saw this hare come by and wanted to catch it for Dalkeira. She didn’t get to eat anything yesterday, you know.”
Decan handed the spear back to Aslara.
“I hope you don’t mind. I borrowed one of your spears. It’s a bit dirty from poking it down the hole where the hare was hiding.”
Decan’s eyes held all the apologetic innocence of a child. Aslara examined the spear quietly.
“It seems undamaged, so no harm done. Nice catch as well,” said Aslara as Decan turned around to give Dalkeira the hare.
“But Decan…”
The boy turned back.
“…don’t take it again.”
Aslara’s face had taken on a peculiar hardness. Decan swallowed audibly and nodded.
As he dropped the hare in front of Dalkeira, Trista saw something move behind the dragon. A slender, black shape straightened up with a sharp hiss—this was not a happy snake.
The snake officially announced its presence with a vibrating rattle from its triple split tail. Immediately, Trista’s little brother sprang into motion.
“A Black Rattler,” warned Aslara.
“Dalkeira, look out,” screamed Decan at the same time.
Decan pushed Dalkeira to the side as the dragon started to turn around toward the danger. Decan kicked up a cloud of sand and dirt to scare off the snake, but it only got more agitated.
“Decan, don’t!” said Aslara, trying to get the boy to move back.
But it was too late. The black snake coiled then launched its attack at incredible speed. Four small, venomous teeth sank into Decan’s lower leg with deadly precision. The boy screamed in pain, grasping his calf.
“No!” yelled Trista as the snake closed in for another attack.
Chapter 22
Welcome
“No!”
Trista’s voice rang through the air, spurring Dalkeira into action. The dragon shot forward and pinned the snake down. The venomous creature squirmed frantically as sharp dragon claws pushed it into the ground. It was at least five feet long and thick with muscle. The snake’s body coiled around Dalkeira’s legs, trying to fend off its attacker.
Before the rattler could turn around for a second bite, Dalkeira’s head shot forward, snapping her jaws around its head. She shook the snake back and forth wildly, slamming it into the ground multiple times before she pinned it between her claws once more and ripped the head clean off.
She flung the snake’s head away into the shrubbery and looked around. Satisfied the danger had passed, she leaped back to where Aslara and Trista were busy observing Decan's bite.
“This isn’t good,” said Aslara.
“Can we suck out the poison?” asked Trista worriedly.
“No, it will only damage the flesh more. We need to make a cut and let it bleed. It’s already moving up his leg.”
A small black line began to form just above the puncture wounds on Decan’s leg. Dalkeira bent forward to see what they were doing, her eyes swirling with worry.
Before Trista could object, Aslara took out her knife and skillfully made two cuts along the bite. Blood swelled from the wound as she poured water on it to increase the flow. Alarmed that Decan showed no reaction to the cut, Trista put her hand on her little brother’s cheek. The boy felt warm to the touch. His eyes half closed.
Aslara whistled Thulai closer. The desert tibu, who had been nibbling on some twigs further away, rushed toward them.
“He’s in shock,” said Aslara. “He needs to get to the village—now. The life listener might still be able to save him.”
Aslara unloaded Thulai’s entire pack and threw it at the base of the Pillar of Life. She grabbed Decan and hoisted him onto the desert tibu’s back.
“I’ll ride ahead. Leave everything and follow me toward that mountain,” she said, pointing ahead. “You see where the dark shadowed rock is on the left? Head for that and I’ll send someone from the village to meet you.”
Aslara wasted no further time, jumping behind Decan on Thulai’s back and nudging her sha'crow into a run. The animal sped off at incredible speed while Aslara held Decan as close and steady as possible. Trista saw her little brother’s limp arms and head swaying back and forth as they disappeared from sight.
Dalkeira took to the air to follow them a while longer.
“They are indeed going straight for the mountain,” said Dalkeira, as if she had doubted Aslara’s intent. “And with that speed they will be at the village in no time. Who knew that creature could run so fast?”
With all the commotion, it appeared she had forgotten her anger toward Trista, at least for now. Trista herself was too busy to react, packing her belongings. She gathered Decan’s things as well, constantly keeping a sharp eye on the baby in case any more uninvited guests decided to show up. Fortunately, with the little possessions they had, she quickly finished.
“Let’s go!” she called, grabbing the baby and walking as quickly as possible. Above her, Dalkeira followed, flying in large circles as they slowly made their way toward the mountain.
Half the morning had passed before the argument with Dalkeira re-entered Trista’s mind. She was so worried about Decan she had barely thought of anything other than her little brother. Fear gripped her throat again at the thought of losing him after coming all this way.
She looked up to where Dalkeira’s dark blue silhouette circled overhead. Her wingspan was impressive, even at her moderate size. The dragon had stayed airborne all morning, apart from the occasional break to rest. Trista had assumed the dragon was keeping an eye on things from above, but now figured Dalkeira probably had little interest in talking to her after their fallout.
“I’m sorry I yelled this morning,” Trista said in her mind.
She saw Dalkeira bank and go into a dive. Within an instant, the dragon landed next to her in a cloud of red dust. She looked at Trista, slightly tilting her head, her long neck stretched out toward her bonded human.
“As you should be,” said Dalkeira. “It was uncalled for.”
“I was afraid. About Decan. But you’re right, that’s not an excuse.”
Trista did not know what else to say, but for now, it seemed enough. For some time, Dalkeira walked in silence with her and the baby, but it did not feel as forced anymore.
“Do you have any idea if we are getting close?” asked Dalkeira after a while.
The mountain had been creeping closer and closer as Trista tirelessly moved toward it, driven by her desire to get to Decan as fast as possible. Currently, the high, red mass of stone loomed over them as they tried to find their way through the high bushes and small, dried-up trees.
Trista sighed.
“I lost track of the rock formation Aslara pointed out some time ago. I think we must be getting close.”
“Let me see if I can spot it again from the air,” said Dalkeir
a. She took a few steps forward before pushing herself into the air with her wings.
As the dragon ascended, Trista made her way through a dense part of dry vegetation. She moved some shrubbery with her hand and stepped under the prickly branch to get past it, turning her back to protect the child in her arms from the long thorns.
“Yima kho lasjo.”
Startled, Trista looked around, but the words had come out of nowhere.
The sound of scraping twigs made her spin around. Instinctively, she held the baby tight to her chest in case she needed to dodge.
A figure emerged from between the thorny bushes. Their outfit was strikingly similar to the one Aslara wore, the difference mostly being its color. Where Aslara’s scarf turban had been blue, this person's attire was much more in tune with their surroundings: beige and red, to blend into the background when moving between the low and high bushes. The weapons were similar too, though more abundant. The long spear was easily identifiable as the same kind Aslara had carried.
Trista’s muscles were ready to go. She shuffled backward, uncertain if she should leave. Something in the voice had made the unrecognizable words sound less than friendly. Her hand moved below the baby, her fingers slipping around her dagger. A dissatisfied murmur rose from the baby, who was still sleeping.
“I said, stop right there,” said the same voice, now with words more familiar, thick with the same accent they had gotten used to from Aslara.
Trista was about to ask about their savior when a strange, growling chuckle announced the presence of a dog-like creature pushing its way through the bushes. A large torso, with an arching back sliding down to hind legs that were small in comparison to the long, heavy forelegs and paws. Its wide head was topped by large, narrow pointed ears. The pelt on its belly was short with black and brown stripes, while a spiky mane of thick, black hairs ran along the spine, stopping halfway down its back. A tail swept back and forth, its black tufted end just above the ground.
“Dalkeira, I’ve got company.”
“Where are you? The plants are blocking my view,” called Dalkeira’s voice in her head, but Trista’s focus was drawn toward the creature inching toward her, head held low, ears lying flat.
“You look uncommonly normal for a Karnis’h,” said the voice. It was accompanied by a low growl from the bulky canine. Trista met the warrior’s eyes.
Another woman.
“I mean no harm,” Trista said slowly.
“Wise choice. The opposite would not go easy with my friends over there,” said the woman.
Friends?
A second laughing growl introduced itself. A second creature’s thick head pushed through the shrubbery on the right, its long, pointed ears flat against its head. It was only a few steps from where Trista stood.
Cautiously, Trista took a step back as the second animal moved clear of the bush, ignoring the plant’s long thorns.
“Now, hold on. We’re here to meet Asl—”
The sentence was cut short when Dalkeira crashed through the overhanging branches and twigs. She unfolded her wings after clearing the prickly canopy and threw her claws forward.
The dragon slammed into the closest of the two creatures. She rivaled them in size, but they still outweighed Dalkeira’s slender build.
Despite the unannounced interruption, the animal was completely unfazed by the dragon’s sudden appearance. The muscled animal adjusted its stance to intercept the incoming attack and, with a strong movement, threw Dalkeira past it onto the ground, reducing the results of Dalkeira’s grand attack to a few minor scratches.
The dragon slammed heavily into the ground. Thankfully, she slid forward instead of rolling over her extended wings.
“Dalkeira, wait!” called Trista.
But the dragon was completely consumed by the moment. Enraged by her failed attack, she leaped back up and hissed at the two creatures that now circled her from a distance.
“You stay away from her,” Dalkeira screeched.
Both creatures hesitated. Fighting another animal was one thing, but apparently they had never seen one that voiced commands like a human. The slight hesitation was quickly thrown aside at a whistle from the woman. With a chuckling growl, they moved in to attack.
Dalkeira readied herself for another jump, but had made the mistake of focusing completely on the four-legged threats. Unnoticed, the beige-dressed woman swiftly repositioned herself behind the dragon. A net sailed over Dalkeira’s head and completely entangled her. Furiously, she fought against the instrument that limited her freedom, but the desert woman swiftly moved in, spear held high above her head ready to strike.
Trista’s heart jumped with fright as the woman brought the weapon down. But instead of piercing the dragon, the spear was thrust into the ground with the greatest precision, pinning down both net and dragon.
Dalkeira roared. She bit at the rope, but could not easily get it between her teeth.
Before Trista had a chance to move, the desert woman pushed down the dragon’s head and jabbed something behind one of her fins. Dalkeira reared up with a snarl, snapping her jaws at her attacker. Then her eyes rolled back into her head and her entire body went limp.
“What have you done? Leave her alone!” yelled Trista.
The baby in Trista’s arms erupted in wails. The woman looked up in surprise.
“A child? Why would you bring a child to spy on us?”
“What? I am looking for Aslara. You’re from her village, aren’t you? We came with her!”
“Aslara? She’s not supposed to be back for days. Have you done something to her? Stop lying, or I will set my friends on you,” said the desert woman angrily.
“I’m not lying! We ran into her in the sunken city in the desert. She saved us. But my little brother was bitten by a snake near one of those big trees that way,” said Trista, pointing to the southeast. “She took off on Thulai with my brother, telling me to follow as quickly as possible.”
The woman rose to her feet, judging her from a distance. The lack of response made Trista’s blood boil.
“You tell me what you’ve done to Dalkeira right now, or else I’ll—I’ll—” Trista took a step forward to get to the dragon’s side.
Both creatures let out those strange growls and moved in ready to pounce, but the woman held up her hand, ordering them to stay put.
“Relax. Your friend’s just sleeping. A simple dart dipped in a high concentrate of sleeping berries. If you behave, your creature has nothing to worry about. She’ll wake up before the moon gets to its highest point,” said the woman in a voice as unwavering as stone.
Carefully, Trista came closer, keeping an eye on the woman and her pets. She put her hand on Dalkeira’s chest and felt it calmly rise and fall. Trista looked up in anger.
“Midnight? I can’t wait that long. You have to wake her up now! I need to get to the village and find my little brother.”
“You must be mad with heat—or hunger, from the looks of it—if you think I’ll just take you to the village because you say so,” said the woman. “Even if you’re not a spy or a scout, I don’t know you. Your friends could be hiding somewhere, ready to follow us. There might be more of these flying lizards, waiting to kill everyone back home. I’m not taking any chances. Stick out your hands; you’ll be bound and blindfolded before we go anywhere,” said the woman. She took a step forward.
Trista stepped back, but instantly heard a chuckled growl behind her.
“You have got to be kidding,” Trista cried. “Friends? Does it look like I’m traveling with company? Everyone is already at the village. I want to see my brother. Besides, how can I carry a baby with my hands bound and no way to see where I’m going?”
She had had about enough of all the obstacles on her road to get to Decan. Inside her was a typhoon of emotions. She was hungry, exhausted, hot, worried sick, angry and unable to pick any one of them to specifically focus on. Her thoughts were hazy at best as she sought solutions to the ever-growing pr
oblems presented to her.
“My, my. Someone has a temper, doesn’t she? Fine, you can give the child to me.”
“Not a chance.”
“You know, I can easily let my striped friends here grab your legs and drag you there if you prefer.”
Trista looked at the large creatures. One of them bared its teeth at her and let out that chuckling growl again. She pulled out her dagger, wishing she had kept the larger soldier’s sword which now lay abandoned in the desert.
“They could try, but they won’t get to me unharmed. Who knows; maybe I’ll get lucky and stab one of their eyes out,” said Trista, trying to maintain the calmness in her voice as she bluffed.
“I doubt it. You look like you’re barely keeping it together as it is. It’s a wonder you’re able to hold that weapon—and the child—at all,” said the woman, remaining unimpressed.
Trista knew she spoke the truth. She felt tired, all the way down to her bones. What little reserves she had built up were gone again. Her bluff had failed; the entire situation was headed in the wrong direction.
And if I’m dead, how can I help Dalkeira? Or see Decan again?
Trista sighed and sheathed the dagger again.
“Look, if you truly know Aslara, you must know she wouldn’t invite just anyone to the village. We needed help and Aslara offered it, for which I’m eternally grateful to her. She said someone would be sent out to meet us, but we got lost getting closer to the mountain,” said Trista. “I just want to know if my little brother is alright. Once he is, we’ll continue our way west. We don’t want any trouble.”
The woman looked at her in silence for a long time. Both chuckling creatures remained perfectly still, waiting for her decision.
“You said it yourself. I’m no threat. I'm barely hanging on. I’m exhausted, too hot and thirsty. We lost our family and now the only one I have left, my little brother, is in real trouble. You have one of my dearest friends in this world captive. I promise you, I won’t cause any problems,” tried Trista again.
Strong eyes stared back at her, the same deep brown as Aslara’s. Finally, the woman spoke.
Wavebreaker (Book II of the Stone War Chronicles): Part 1 - Trickle Page 44
