Call of the Dragonbonded_Book of Fire

by JD Hart

  A Simple Misunderstanding

  Skye-Anyar-Bello Cloudbender sighed contently in his sleep. Muscles rippled as he stretched his legs across his bed of dream gold. Nothing felt as wondrously soothing as gold infused with a dragon’s essence. In his dream, three mature females appeared about him, crouched and prancing in the classic display of affection and admiration. Well, maybe one thing was better. Sharp talons dug deep into the mound of shiny metal; blue eyes rolled up under double eyelids in sleep-filled rapture.

  The feeling was so delightful that the shock of being awakened dwarfed even the realization that the gold and females were nothing but sleep phantoms. Five days and nights enjoying the warm solitude of the cave to reach that altered state of blissful consciousness dragons craved, only to be so rudely aroused. Rage filled his emotional vessel that had so recently been overflowing with contentment. Whatever had pulled him from his dream sleep would soon realize its mistake. Sensing a presence in the cave, his horned black head swiveled around on a long, slender neck to take a look at his antagonist—and his lunch.

  He had never seen a human, but he had heard enough dragonsong to know the quite unimpressive two-legged stick standing a tongue’s length away could be nothing else. A few dragons had tried eating humans, and the one thing they all agreed on was that the meal was dreadfully unsatisfying. In fact, in dragon tongue, dragork was the name given to a crazed dragon; it meant “two-human-eater.” The meager amount of meat on its bones and a putrid smell that made his empty stomach lurch could only appeal to a demented dragon. That Skye-Anyar-Bello Cloudbender would not even get the satisfaction of quenching his hunger only fueled his annoyance.

  There was still a chance to return to that blissful sleep state. Giving the scrawny human a good look at the source of its annihilation seemed the perfect place to start. He held the paralyzed human’s gaze with icy blue eyes while his body flowed like black water. He rose on two powerful legs, chest expanding forward. Black wings fanned wide and his head arched toward the ceiling to complete the awesome display. He fancied his carriage must be truly awe-inspiring to such a lowly, small creature.

  Skye-Anyar-Bello Cloudbender’s lightning strike was certainly no less impressive. His right leg slashed forward, sharp talons arcing downward at the creature’s thin chest. The dragon peered down with delight to watch the human’s entrails spill out across the cavern floor. But vindication turned to astonishment when the nimble little beast dove to the left, coming up in a ready crouch.

  Blue eyes glowed like lightning bolts. Nostrils flared. He snorted incredulously at the deft little critter. In an incredible feat of quickness, he whipped his spiny tail to send the human careening into the cavern wall. Instead, the human gracefully leaped over his tail, going into another roll and coming up behind a boulder. Unable to bring his tail in for a backstroke, Skye-Anyar-Bello Cloudbender roared.

  This was quite enough. With wings unfurled, he propelled his head forward and down. Searing fire streamed from his gaping mouth, exploding across the boulder until the rocky surface glowed red and molten rock dripped to the cavern floor. But the spry creature just stepped from behind the boulder, flicking away steaming chunks of rock from his shoulder.

  The dragon studied the human with newfound respect. No animal should have survived that inferno. That is, unless the creature was enchanted. A cold-blooded tremor ran down his spine. Of course, he had heard of dragoncatchers, humans who could enslave dragons to their will. But dragoncatchers were night fantasies to keep amphitheres from straying from the den. Skye-Anyar-Bello Cloudbender took a measured step back.

  Conner studied the monster with respect. No animal should have been able to create such a blast of heat. That is, unless the creature was enchanted. A chill ran down his spine. Of course, he had heard of dragons, creatures that could kill a man with a single stroke. But, dragons came from fables invented to entertain children. Conner took a measured step back.

  At least the black beast had stopped trying to kill him for the moment. It occurred to Conner that he should, as his dad liked to say, make hay while Hemera shined. Quick as a twitch, he spun about and sprinted for the cavern entrance as fast as his legs could churn.

  Morgas smiled at the sounds drifting down the long mining shaft. It seemed Vault’s luck had run out. Whatever animal the boy had encountered, he hoped it would entertain the Eastlander long enough for their imminent arrival. Sensing victory, he picked up the pace, feet dancing lightly down the middle of the dark shaft.

  Just as the spritely creature started for the cave entrance, Skye-Anyar-Bello Cloudbender caught the sound of more two-legged creatures approaching through one of the narrow shafts behind. “Of course,” he snorted. “I am a fool!” This imp was only a diversion while its comrades slipped in unaware. And the enchanted human was rushing to block his only way to freedom. He could almost feel dragoncatcher jaws biting into his loins. He flinched at the vision. Intense anger turned into an intense will to live. And as anything lucky enough to survive an encounter with a dragon knew, nothing was more alarming than an alarmed dragon.

  Gone was his desire for the blissful state; dreams of gold and females faded like morning mist. Wings pumped frantically to get his lethargic body moving. Survival instincts drove the pounding beat of his wings ... and his back slammed hard into the low ceiling. The entire cave trembled in response. Rocks rained down. Off balance, he tilted and swung wildly to the left ... and his shoulder found the cave wall. Pebbles danced across the floor as the cave shook from the beating. He twisted to get away from the wall pinning his wing, and his forehead cracked into the ceiling. He groaned from the force of the impact. The ceiling groaned back.

  Skye-Anyar-Bello Cloudbender scrambled in a mimic run to beat the scrawny human to the entrance, sharp talons unable to catch on the smooth cavern floor. Finally, his wings found the air to lift him, taking him directly along the human’s path. That would give him one last opportunity to appease his wounded pride. Talons shot forward; his tail whipped upward. He would end the miserable creature’s existence.

  Blasts of dust from the monster’s pounding wings swirled around Conner, stinging his eyes. He staggered through the haze toward the entrance. But the sound of the creature behind convinced him it was more prudent to get out of the way. Sensing that the monster was nearly on his back, he took another diving shoulder roll to the right. A black tail whizzed past, hammering the mouth of the entrance hard as the winged shadow of destruction glided through the thick, swirling clouds of dust and on into the daylight beyond. Rocks shook under his feet, disrupting his roll. Unable to steady his footing, Conner’s shoulder struck the wall with a crunching thud, and he disappeared beneath a shower of gravel and dirt.

  The distant rumble of thunder made the ground and air quake. Morgas and Pallia hesitated, trying to make sense of the sounds. With the second clap, pebbles and dust rained down on them. With the third, Pallia yanked Morgas hard to the right as a section of the wall collapsed where he had been standing. Galven yelped, then let out a frightened whimper.

  Morgas coughed, his free hand covering his nose and eyes from the blinding dust. “We have to get through this shaft before it becomes our tomb!” he growled audibly in a grimace.

  Pallia and Galven took the lead, Morgas stumbling behind with Valmer pressing on his heels.

  Conner dug his way out from beneath the rubble, trying to find solid footing, coughing up dust and spitting grit from his cotton mouth. Everything was a light gray blur. He reached for the wall to steady his wobbling legs, but a spasm of pain shot up his shoulder and neck. His ears rang with the sound of a tornado growing steadily louder. He staggered forward, waving his arm to keep from running into a wall. Then the ground began to rumble again, only this time it did not stop. The entire mountain was coming down around him.

  He weaved and bobbed toward what he hoped was the remains of the entrance, his feet working to find footing over the shifting rocks littering the cavern floor. Dust filled his lungs and he gagged.
Rocks of every size pummeled his body. One hit him hard on the right side of his head and he staggered from the blow. Arms over his head, Conner ran in desperation, no longer caring if he was moving in the right direction.

  Then everything was still.

  Cautiously, he lowered his arms. For the first time in what seemed like eons, Hemera’s rays warmed his face. He blinked several times in surprise, not sure if he was crying from the dust or the relief of being alive. His head throbbed like an Anarchic war drum. Gingerly running fingertips along the growing lump on the side of his scalp, a memory flashed across his mind. He and a much younger Pauli were playing Queen’s Defender and Anarchic spy. Pauli, always the Defender, had cornered the evil spy in the Cloverdale shed, where a great battle with wooden swords ensued. But Pauli always insisted the Defender be victorious. On that fateful adventure, Conner had failed to duck one of Pauli’s zealous swings, receiving a solid crack to the skull for his mistake.

  Through spinning eyes, Conner examined the red, sticky goo coating his fingers. He would have laughed at the familiarity of the memory, but he was unconscious before his body struck the ground.

  What Remains

  From the rumbling sounds at the far end of the mining shaft, Morgas knew what they would find. Well, almost. Pressing up close behind Pallia, he surveyed the wreckage over her shoulder. Their wolf bonds proceeded into the dust-filled cavern to sniff out their quarry’s path, unaware their efforts would be in vain. The entire entrance, along with the left half of the cavern, had been buried by an avalanche of rock and dirt. But that was not what surprised Morgas and his mate the most. Instead of total darkness, what remained of the man-made mining hall was bathed in a deep blue pulsating light.

  “What do you make of it?” Pallia asked breathlessly, their quarry momentarily forgotten.

  “I don’t know. I’ve never seen anything like this.” He stepped cautiously around her and proceeded left along the wall. Taking his cue, Pallia fanned right. Morgas had seen at least twenty such abandoned mining halls. Ore and gem miners common to this area would carve a circular cavity into the side of the mountain, then extend a series of mining shafts, like fingers on an open hand, in hopes of striking a solid vein. If the initial search produced nothing of significance, the mine was abandoned. His first thought was that they had stumbled upon a mine containing some magical form of rock, but he dismissed that idea. He had never heard of a glowing magical ore. Besides, this hall had been abandoned for centuries.

  Having passed two more mining shaft fingers to his left, he came to where the rubble began, forcing him to turn right. He followed the edge of destruction to where the wolves waited patiently, near the center of the hall where the pulsating blue glow was brightest.

  Judging by Valmer’s reaction, Vault had come to this spot. Morgas bent and hefted a fist-sized glowing rock. Something familiar about the glow nagged at his memory, something he should have known.

  Immersed deep in thought, he was unaware of Pallia standing beside him. She pointed into the rubble, where the entrance had been. “Do you think he was buried under there?”

  He smiled at his mate’s puzzled expression. “Somehow I doubt it. No, our friend has had the Cosmos’s luck since we started this journey. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was even involved in causing all this.” He gestured with his arm, then went back to examining the rock in his hand. He was coming to appreciate Lacerus’s keen interest in the boy.

  Remembering the sounds they had heard before entering, Morgas nodded at the devastation. “There was something else in this hall when he arrived. Whatever it was, it was the cause of this destruction.” He stuffed the pulsating rock into his backpack. “Let’s get back to Johann and Carlon. I must consider what to do next.”

  Pallia’s expression turned from puzzled to perplexed at his cryptic words. She thought the next step was obvious, but Morgas would never waste time stating the obvious. They had been together long enough for her to trust his decisions in such matters, so she silently nodded her acceptance before retracing their steps.

  Several sections of the mining shaft had not fared well during the avalanche, so it was hours before the two arrived exhausted at the entrance of the southern cavern where Johann and Carlon waited.

  “Well met, my liege. We feared the worst,” Johann exhaled. The brothers had felt the avalanche even at this distance, and had been worried the couple and their bonds lost. He glanced over Morgas’s shoulder, but when their quarry did not appear behind him, the smile faded. “So our work is not yet complete.”

  Morgas inhaled fresh air. “We cannot assume the boy died in the avalanche. It is more likely that he escaped through to the north. You are to circumvent this mountain and check for tracks. If you find any sign of him, you are to capture him and bring him back to this cave.” He measured their reaction. The tone in his voice told them there was more. “Pallia knows where to find the mining entrance. She is in charge. You are to follow her as you would me.”

  Pallia stepped in front of him; her intense stare and stance made it clear that whatever he was considering would not go unchallenged.

  Morgas’s expression softened. Stepping close, he pressed his right cheek to hers, his right palm lightly to her left temple. The brothers quietly stepped away to give them privacy. Even then, he whispered, “I need you to do this for me, my mate. I must report to Lacerus. What we witnessed cannot wait until we have the boy. I will return to you as soon as possible.”

  He would not have put her in charge if he did not trust her abilities. Further, Lacerus would not have taken audience with anyone but Morgas. And a written message would not suffice. She pressed even closer, emulating his gesture of affection with her palm. “It will be as you wish, my mate. May the paths of our forefathers guide your step.” She stepped away, holding his gaze for a moment, then, turning to Galven, checked her bond for injuries.

  Morgas found the brothers nearby. “There is something about this boy. He is not the country bumpkin he seems, so keep your wits around him.” Unable to put into words anything more specific, he hoped either his gut was wrong or his warning was adequate to protect them. The brothers deliberated with Morgas about the fastest route out of the mountains, but the urgency of his message kept the discourse terse.

  Looking back, Morgas held eye contact with Pallia. He hoped he had the energy to make the trip to Cravenrock at the speed he would need to maintain. At least the shortcut Johann had offered would trim several hours from the run. He disappeared over the southern ridge. Valmer paused at the top long enough to take one last look at Galven; then he too was gone.

  Midsummer’s Night Visitors

  Once Conner was certain his bouts with queasiness were subsiding, he gingerly raised his throbbing head, then sat up. Heaving on an empty stomach would only worsen his misery, so he would take it slow. That gave him time to inspect his surroundings.

  As suspected, the tunnel had discharged him along the north side of the mountain’s western base. Farther to the north, a narrow, overgrown wagon trail ran precariously along the side of the mountain. West of the road, a steep, forested drop-off descended to a stream thirty paces below, while a rocky incline jutted nearly vertically to the east, ending in the snowy summit high above. Along the upper slope, a few scruffy trees and bushes eked out a meager existence, roots clinging tenaciously to mountainside crevices. Conner surveyed the devastation behind him. If he had not passed through there, he would have denied a cavern ever existed. He was thankful he was able to get free before it collapsed.

  Hemera was already sinking beyond the mountains. Conner estimated he had been unconscious for about five hours. Given the darkening sky, Conner could not depend on remaining safe where he was; he rose on wobbly legs. Thinking made his head hurt, so he let the road do the thinking for him. It had to lead somewhere. Slinging his pack over his shoulder, he focused on putting one foot in front of the other and staggered north.

  He had no idea how long he walked, his body working involuntaril
y through the scrub brush and saplings reclaiming the old, winding road. But stumbling over roots and bushes in the dark brought him out of his sleep walk. The road had settled into a hollow splitting two mountains, with a rocky stream nearby. He collected an armload of branches. After negotiating a number of large boulders to reach the riverbed, he sank his naked body into the fast-moving waters and methodically washed away all the mud and dried blood. The cold stream breathed new life into his exhausted body and relieved some of the throbbing in his head as well. Refreshed, Conner started a small fire halfway to the road.

  After changing clothes, he wrapped his last clean shirt around his head and pulled it tight to get some relief from the throbbing. Not shackled and on his way back to Cravenrock easily qualified as a “special occasion,” so he rummaged through his backpack until he found the packages of dried fruit, jelly, strips of jerky, and rolled bread. He ate voraciously while a chunk of ration soaked in his tin cup with water over his fire.

  His belly finally full, Conner leaned against a boulder, finding some paltry satisfaction that he had not only successfully evaded his pursuers another day, but survived an encounter with a mighty mountain beast. The warmth of the fire and sounds of nature evaporated all his worries as he considered what to do in the morning. His foot tapped in rhythm with the crickets and the stream as he hummed the ancient Narwalen melody “When I Come A-Courtin’.”

  Suddenly, he stopped humming, his eyes bulging wide. He rocked forward and looked around. Something was ... wrong. Conner struggled for understanding. He rummaged through his mind, but it was not there any longer. Apprehension flooded over him, this time not for who was behind, but for what was no longer ahead. He rose with a stiff groan. But no matter how hard he tried, he could no longer sense the Calling. He began to pace about, trying to think of what Karlana Landcraft might have mentioned that would explain this condition. After some time, the only explanation he could contrive was that it was due to his head wound, still pounding with every motion of his body.