Ayden curled into a ball near the fire, burrowing beneath the mantles he'd stolen from the hut. The nights were growing steadily cooler.
He took one more look at the rocky cliffs where the Dragon had bedded down for the night. He'd climbed up there earlier, hoping that the beast had decided to settle his journey for the day, and was relieved as the Dragon burned the area where he was to sleep. It was in the center of a canyon, ringed on all sides by several sets of ledges that led downward like a giant funnel to the ground. It made a cozy nest for the Dragon against the chill of the night air, and Ayden was tempted to sleep in there himself, but it was too close to the beast for comfort.
He'd climbed back down the cliffs, found a dry spot in the midst of the marshland, buried his ear against the ground and listened to the steady rhythm of the earth. He allowed his eyes to drift shut and slept almost at once.
* * *
Ayden woke to a roar that shook the ground. He stumbled to his feet, glancing wildly in all directions, seeing nothing but an overcast sky and rain pelting across the marshland.
He searched the summit of the ridge where the Dragon had rested last night, and another roar rattled his eardrums. A flash of flame lit the gray sky, and a great crash rent the air.
Not thinking to grab his gloves or anything else, he sprinted through the grass toward the cliff, leaving his horse and his campsite behind.
The grasses whipped against his legs, their moist dewiness soaking his breeches. His boots sank in the mud, and they grew heavier and heavier as the mud caked his soles.
At last he reached the rocky cliffs, and he pulled himself up over the boulders. His boots were slippery and useless. After a moment's thought he freed his feet from them and tossed them to the base of the cliff. With his hands and his toes, he scrambled up the rocks and ledges, aiming for a gap in the uppermost ridge where he would be able to see the Dragon.
More blasts of flame lit the sky above the gap, followed by the shriek of some creature. A hiss, and another roar, and Ayden was there, scrambling the last few yards on his hands and knees, collapsing to his stomach as his face cleared the edge.
He sucked in a breath.
The Mirage stood in the center of the canyon, rocking back on his haunches, his thick forelegs clawing the air in front of him as he inhaled to release another fiery blast of liquid flame.
Three enormous Griffons hovered on the craggy shelves that lined the valley, half hidden in the rocks. Their great talons clutched at footholds as they ducked the bursts of flame.
The Griffon closest to Ayden lifted off his shelf, flapping his wings as he spiraled in the air. He dove, his sharp beak wide open, aiming for the Dragon's eye.
Chennuh turned at the last second, walloping the creature with his claws, and the Griffon hurtled headlong into the cliff on the other side, dropping to a shelf and lying still.
It was a stunning move, but the Dragon had lost his balance when he hit the Griffon, and he rolled.
Faster than quicksilver, the other two Griffons attacked his lightly armored belly, tearing at the scales with their talons.
Chennuh roared, and fire caught the wing of a Griffon. It blazed a path to the Griffon's body, and the creature burst into flame.
The third Griffon retreated again, leaving a bleeding, angry Dragon on the valley floor. The Griffon rested on the shelf, facing the east before turning to snarl at the Dragon.
Ayden scrambled backward, his breath coming in short, harsh gulps. Three men stood on the upper ridge that lined the sky to the east. Two of the men picked their way in a wide circle around the canyon toward their Griffons (as Ayden assumed they were). The third one stood tall, making motions with his arms while his Griffon watched.
With a resounding screech, the Griffon rose from its perch. In a blur of movement, it rocketed toward Chennuh, its beak wide open.
The Dragon turned to meet the assault, and the two beasts hit the earth together, rolling, tumbling, clawing. Bursts of fire scorched the sides of the canyon. The Dragon was bigger, fiercer, and better protected, but the Griffon was like lightning. Here, there, everywhere across Chennuh's body, he bit and tore and pricked.
Ayden flinched as one of Chennuh's wings ruptured from the side of the massive body, hanging by a mere tattered tendon.
The Dragon was going to lose. Ayden's jaw clenched. He glanced again at the men. The two who were picking their way around the canyons were nearly to their creatures now, though they had paused to watch the fight.
Ayden scrambled up the back of the rocky summit, not daring to glance at the ground behind him. Loose rocks scattered beneath his feet, bouncing over the boulders and down the side of the mountain, skittering into oblivion far below.
He gritted his teeth and wedged his fingers tighter between the rocks.
As soon as he came to the gap where he'd seen the men, he peered around. The Griffondimn stood still, watching the fight, his hands propped on his waist. Chennuh's movements slowed; his reaction time grew more sluggish. The Griffon wasn't without wounds, either. A front foreleg had been charred, and the beast held it up against his body as he continued his attacks, limping on three legs.
Ayden again checked the location of the other two men. As he craned his head around a rock, he jerked it back as a voice sounded almost in front of him.
“Mine's dead. What a waste.” Regret cloaked the man's words.
The other man nodded. “Too bad. Still, we'll get a handsome reward for this 'un.”
“If your Griffon can take 'im.”
“I don't think there's much doubt. Look at 'im. 'E's givin' up the fight.”
Ayden's gaze shot back to the canyon floor. Indeed, Chennuh lay still on the rocky ground, his chest heaving, his tattered wing lying broken beside him, trailing from his back by one silvery thread. The Griffon stalked closer and struck at Chennuh's neck. The Dragon did little more than flinch.
“Call off your Griffon.”
The words surprised Ayden almost as much as they did the men in front of him. They whirled, speechless with surprise. Ayden moved from behind the rock, his bare hands in fists at his side.
“Get your Griffon out of here, now,” he demanded again. He could see the third man making his way back to their place, and he moved so he was facing all three. The man on his right was within arm's reach.
He didn't want to. But he knew he'd have to.
The two men closest to him burst into laughter. “Or what, chit? You'll run to tell your daddy that there're some big, bad men up in the Rues?”
“It's my Dragon, spawn, and I demand that you call off your Griffon now. I'll give you to the count of five. One.”
The men were really laughing now. The Griffondimn bent double, gasping for air. The third man had joined them, glancing at his companions as he tried to understand.
“Two.”
The Griffon rose from the valley floor on its wings, spiraling high, higher, higher. Ayden knew what would come next. The death spiral. Griffons were known to make the final kill from the air.
“Three. Four,” he said in quick succession.
“Look at this 'un,” the Griffondimn cackled. “'E might give us a scratch. Oh, 'orror o' 'orrors.”
Ayden took a deep breath. “Five.”
His arm lashed out, smacking the man's face to his right. The ash-gray cracks appeared across his visage, spreading and growing. The man's face creased in terror before it disappeared in a fall of ash, and he collapsed in a heap of clothing and gray dust.
All traces of laughter died. The other two men stared at Ayden in terror.
“Take your Griffon and go, now!” Ayden thundered, advancing.
One man stumbled backward, raising his arm. A shrill whistle split the air, and the answering call of the Griffon from high in the clouds resounded back. A moment later, the two men were stumbling across the pass, down the craggy sides of the mountain. The shadow of the Griffon cut below the clouds as it followed them.
Ayden stayed where he was, watching them until they hit the level ground. Their tiny figures scrambled, sprinted, stumbled across deep ruts at the roots of the mountains, and along a deep canyon into another ridge of the Rues. They were soon lost from sight.
Concern wrinkled Ayden's brow. He wondered if he had sufficiently frightened the men away, or if they would try to return later in force, armed to the teeth. He didn't want to think about it. The Dragon was in no shape to fly from the canyon, and Ayden wouldn't be able to protect the beast and himself from an army of Griffondimn. He knew the Griffon Clan to be a highly superstitious group, and he fervently hoped that the sight of their friend crumbling to ash would be enough to play on the men’s fears and keep them from this part of the Rues.
Ayden turned his attention back to Chennuh. The animal sprawled on the canyon floor, and Ayden quickly made his way down over the rocks and ledges toward him.
Chennuh's sides heaved. The beast still lived, but Ayden didn't know for how long.
He finally reached the Dragon. The eye closest to him was open, watching him, but the creature didn't move his head.
“Did you miss me? Chennuh?” He took a step nearer, examining the cracked, shattered scales across the beast's belly where Griffon claws had carved gouges. Eventually the Dragon’s natural regeneration process should coat the injured flesh with new scales, but Dragon blood seeped from many places. Because of the massive damage, the new scales were slow in coming.
He reached Chennuh, stopping when the Dragon rumbled a low growl.
“I'm going to try something, Chennuh,” he murmured, keeping his voice low and even. He knew the Dragon recognized him. He didn't know if the Dragon put any weight on their previous acquaintance.
Slowly, he reached his bare fingers to the animal's skin, touching it lightly.
The skin at the edges of the wounds darkened and welded together. He ran his fingers up each one of the slits, sealing the ragged flesh together again.
Ayden breathed a sigh of relief; he'd been fairly certain he wouldn't turn the beast into a pile of ashes; he'd touched Dragons bare-handed before, the first time by accident, and then later, he’d touched them to enjoy the heat that played through his skin from their scales. His touch would burnish the scales to a fiery bronze which darkened when he removed his hand. Sometimes, he could restore the scales if they were chipped or broken.
This was his first time touching a Dragon's hide stripped of scales, and he was thankful that his suspicions had held true and that his Dragon was not now a pile of smoldering ash on the canyon floor.
He checked some of the raw places where mirrored scales had broken off, carefully probing the skin. A haze of glistening light emerged on the hide, and he nodded in satisfaction. It might take a few days or even weeks—the damage was so severe—but the scales would regenerate and the Dragon's armor would be complete again.
If only he hadn't broken his wing.
Ayden advanced to where the massive foreleg lay collapsed against the beast's body. The smoky eye watched him, though the head didn't move.
Carefully placing his bare foot on the hot elbow joint of the foreleg, Ayden pulled himself up slowly to a crouch. He could feel the heat from the Dragon's mouth, smell the smoke as it wafted over him.
“Just gotta check...” he carefully edged closer to the Dragon's shoulder, straining to reach the tattered, slitted wing that dragged along the ground “...that wing.”
A roar that shook his eardrums echoed around the canyon, and the foreleg jerked. Ayden tumbled off, landing hard on his backside.
He scrambled backward. The beast's snout opened for a moment, but the rage of fire died quickly, and the Dragon closed his mouth again.
“Chennuh,” Ayden spoke softly. “I want to help you. But you have to let me look at your wing.”
The Dragon huffed a smoke ring that floated into the air and drifted into the gray sky. Ayden thought perhaps he was giving in, but as soon as he took a tentative step toward the beast again, Chennuh bawled once more. A spurt of flame dashed against the canyon wall.
Ayden backtracked. “Look, you've been hurt. I'm trying to help, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop being so stubborn and let me do what I came here to do.”
And what did you come here to do?
The thought surprised Ayden. He had loosely followed the Dragon into the heart of the Rue Ridges, but then what did he expect to do? Achieve psuche? Go back to the Crossings and rub his new Mirage in Sebastian's face, hopefully giving the man a flame bath before it was all said and done?
What would that do, anyway? It wouldn't break his curse, not that he expected to ever find a cure for what ailed him. It wouldn't bring back his mother or his village or Flindel or anything else. It would gain him a rope necklace if anyone found out he was Ayden of the Clan Dragon. He had left his calling card when he'd dropped his glove.
As Ayden crouched on the rocky ground, staring into the smoky gray eye of the Dragon, his thoughts tumbling inside his head, he realized how pointless his journey had been. He couldn't do any of the things he really wanted to do, even if he did somehow manage to achieve psuche. And he had no home to which he could return.
He saw again his glove as it flapped though the air to the floor of the arena, only to be discovered moments later by the other Dragondimn in the keep.
He sat on the hard earth, put his hands behind him and his feet in front of him, not knowing where to turn next.
“Ayden!”
The call rocketed him to his feet, and he jerked his shocked gaze to the west. There, along one of the top walls, was the fire-haired girl. He stared, his mouth open. How, under the Great Star above, had she found the Dragon?
It took several moments for his heartbeat to return to normal.
She stood next to an orange-haired Pixie. Interesting.
The girl began picking her way down ledge by ledge to the bottom.
“Go back, are you daft?” Ayden yelled, shooting a quick glance at the Dragon. The dark eye had swiveled to the two newcomers, and low growls rumbled in his throat. “You're sneaking up on an untrained Dragon!”
Kinna paid no attention to him. The Pixie made himself comfortable, swinging his legs over the top ledge.
Of all the ridiculousness, the lad was actually singing. His voice floated around the canyon, dancing off the rocks and crags.
Ayden growled. The Dragon was going to get nervous or upset, and then...
He glanced at the beast, and his lungs emptied. Chennuh was sound asleep, snoring softly.
“Oof.” Kinna tripped on the last rock, sprawling across the canyon floor. She picked herself up, dusted off her hands and straightened the blue tunic she wore. She looked up at him. “Hello.”
Ayden was sure his shock showed on his face. “You—how—you just show up in the middle of the blasted Rues, with an orange-haired Pixie, and all you have to say is 'hello'?” He motioned to the north. “Why aren't you home where you belong? How did you find us anyway?”
Kinna shrugged uncomfortably. “I—had a sense.”
“You had a sense.” Disbelief colored his tone. She's mad.
“I knew you wouldn't believe me.”
He stared at her. She did manage to find us in the middle of the Rues.
“I didn't say I didn't believe you.”
“Didn't have to. It's written all over you.”
Ayden sighed. “Why are you here?”
“Because I decided to come train Chennuh. Will you help me?” She held out her hand to him, reaching for his own, seeking a solid pact, an agreement.
“Will I help you train a Dragon?” He stared at her small hand, so tiny and fragile-looking. “Last time I checked, you were a Pixiedimn.” He ignored the hurt that flashed across her face and began to climb the sides of the cliff.
Chapter Eleven
Cedric
Cedric shifted in the corner of his cell, his gaze roaming the dim room. How ha
d it come to this? A month ago he'd enjoyed his solitary life in the Rockmonster Dwellings, hunting with his mother, roaming the rocky regions without a care in the world but what was for dinner that night. And stories. Shaya had told wonderful stories.
Most of them had to do with Lismaria, when good King Liam and his queen had reigned. The Centaurs were loyal and thus were treated well by the King and his people. After Sebastian's rise to power, the Centaurs had harbored a bubbling resentment—he had tried to frame them for his own coup, casting the blame on their proud shoulders.
As far as Shaya had known, the Centaurdimn still sent a selection of their best creatures to the Tournament, but she had wondered how long it would last as the vehemence of their dislike for King Sebastian grew stronger with each passing year.
Cedric settled deeper into the dirty straw, his thoughts racing. He wanted to sleep, to forget that tomorrow was the decreed day of his death, to pretend that all this had never happened. But he knew that once he slept, he would wake up with his neck prepared for a headsman. He shivered.
Would it hurt? Or would it be so quick that he wouldn't feel anything? He wondered if the headsman would miss. It could be a slow, drawn-out, painful death if that were the case.
He spent the next hour mouthing prayers to the Great Star, unaware of the moment when he did finally drift into a troubled sleep.
* * *
Heat warmed Cedric's skin, raising goosebumps on his arms. Confusion clouded his mind as he searched for a source of warmth.
Driving rain soaked the earth, and on the outside edges of the heat, frigid chill fought to break through. Cedric rubbed his eyes, squinting through the black murk, straining to discover his whereabouts.
The warmth deepened. His skin was hot to his touch, but rather than bringing pain, the sensation was pleasant. His hair dripped with cold water, but the cool drops evaporated with a hiss when they hit his hands.
Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) Page 12
