Tyber’s jaw tightened.“I swear to you, Halton. I swear to you on the name of my dragon, on the dreams of my father, that I will try and make all of this better.”
The pail and the sack drooped to Halton’s side. “That’s not a promise. Can you make Gurvi better?”
“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s wrong with her. Only the gods can see the cure clearly, and I’m no god. I’m not even a dragon healer. I can’t promise you what you’re asking for. All I can promise you is that I can try.”
Halton stared at him a second longer. The thrush in the distance grew quiet as if it, too, were waiting for the man’s response.
“Then we’ll go,” Halton said. “But I can make my promise. If I find out that you are leading me on, if you are filling me with false hope, I will kill you on the death of my dragon. May the gods see that I carry out that oath.”
“Understood,” Tyber said, then turned away, walking ahead of Halton, all the while listening for the sound of the man dropping his pail or sack in order to free his hand for a knife’s hilt.
Chapter 13
They walked back to their dragons in silence, stowed the supplies in their saddlebags, then flew along the creek back to Iangan. As the sun dropped down into Tyber’s eyes, he tried to think of a way to make a drawing compound out of the weird mix of things they’d bought. But he kept coming to the conclusion that it didn’t matter. He didn’t know what he was doing, and the best he could hope for would be to mix something that did nothing.
As they approached the village and the little clearing where they had made camp, Tyber’s back straightened. The five other dragons of Brath’s horde were tied to trees a short distance from Verana and Maybelle. The riders sat around a fire with Ander and Ren, and all were watching Rius and Gurvi approach.
Broken feathers. He’d hoped to have a few moments with Ander to see if the dragoneer had any ideas on what any of the supplies they’d purchased did. But it seemed now that he’d have to mix it in a hurry and under the eyes of Brath.
As they landed, Brath stood and held a palm out to Halton and Gurvi. “Keep your seat, Halton. Did you get what you needed?”
Halton looked at Tyber.
“I got what I could get,” Tyber said. “Koff wasn’t as well-stocked as a city shop.”
Brath grinned. The gap in his teeth wasn’t as noticeable from the shoulders of a dragon.
“I suppose not. But is it enough?” Brath pressed.
Tyber glanced at Ander, but Ander’s face was expressionless.
“We’ll see,” Tyber said to Brath. “Koff thinks he provided me with adequate substitutions.”
“Good,” Brath said with a nod. “It better work. Because we told Sirvon about you, and he sent us out to bring the three of you to him.”
The others stood. One of the men rested his fingers against the hilt of a long knife worn at his hip. Another unslung the bow that had been over his shoulder.
“We will take you to see Sirvon. If you can save his dragon, you will be rewarded handsomely. You will never want for work again. Honest or otherwise. If you fail, then we will kill you and take your dragons as compensation.”
Brath turned his extended palm over, holding it out to Tyber as if he was presenting something to him. “Is that understood?”
Tyber looked at Ander again. The dragoneer nodded.
Tyber’s stomach fluttered. His legs tightened against Rius’ shoulders, and she looked back at him, fixing him with her dark eyes.
“I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” Tyber asked.
Brath’s grin widened. He dropped his extended arm and pressed his palm to the small of his back. “I’m glad you see how it is.”
Soon, all nine of them were in the air, flying off to the southwest. As they passed over the village, people looked up from the lanes, shielding their eyes from the sun to watch the dragons.
Tyber straightened up and looked at Brath and his dragon in the lead. At least the villagers had seen them all flying together. If nothing else, that should increase their credibility. Now if only Tyber could keep them from getting killed and having Rius and the others added permanently to the ranks of the dragonjacks’ dragons.
They followed a rutted road through the grass. As the village sank below the horizon behind them, a small collection of cottages and a barn of stone and wood appeared ahead. Several goatherds tended flocks in the tall grass. They began to flail their crooks and drive the goats away from the barn as the dragons approached.
The second the dragons took the ground, several boys ran out from the shadows of the barn and grabbed the braided leather cords tossed to them by the riders.
Brath dismounted and approached Tyber and the others. “You may get down. Your dragons will be well-cared for here on my word.”
“Dragons are of great use to you,” Ander said as he undid the restraints at his hip. “People are not.”
“Some people are,” Brath said. “It remains to be seen if that includes you.”
They dismounted, and Tyber and Halton each took their goods from Koff’s shack and carried the collection into the shade of the barn. Tyber blinked against the sun blindness, seeing only slivers of daylight coming through the wood planks of the gabled roof.
A man emerged from the shadows, hardly Tyber’s height. He stopped and looked over the three of them, his hands folded behind his back. He nodded as if approving of what he saw.
“I am Dragoneer Sirvon,” the man said through a thick beard that reached about halfway down his chest. “Which of you is the healer?”
His eyes stopped on the box Tyber held, then met Tyber’s gaze. He drew himself up so that they were the same height.
“I’m not a healer,” Tyber said with a shake of his head. “I never claimed to be. I just know a thing or two.”
“Yes,” Sirvon said. “Two academy boys.” He looked briefly at Ren. “Did you think when you sat in your lectures that your life would some day depend on how well you paid attention?”
“I did,” Tyber said with a nod.
Sirvon’s expression remained steady for a second, and then the corners of his lips curled up. “Good. Because it does. You know the location of my weyr now. If you save my dragon, you and your friends will be welcomed into my horde. You will be treated well and paid handsomely. If you fail to save my dragon, then I will have no use for you at all, only your dragons. Do we understand each other?”
“Quite,” Ander said.
Sirvon passed an annoyed look to Ander, one that dropped away as he looked to Tyber again. “Do we understand each other?”
“We do,” Tyber said.
“Good,” Sirvon said with a deep nod. “I find that few things in life are as motivating as a healthy fear of death. It is what has kept me one step ahead of the King’s hordesmen all these years. Now, I believe you have a compound of sorts that you will need to mix. I understand that you paid Koff a visit. If you should need anything else, all you have to do is ask. Can I get you anything? A place to work? Fresh water? I assume you will need bowls. Perhaps a mortar and pestle?”
Sirvon arched an eyebrow and tipped himself up slightly on the balls of his feet before settling back down.
Tyber nodded. “That would be nice. And something to eat. I haven’t had anything to eat all day.”
Sirvon turned his face to the shadows. “Feed us,” he barked. Deep in the shadows, two people moved. A door opened, and light flooded across the straw-strewn floor. The silhouettes of two women in long dresses passed through the doorway before the door closed behind them.
“A workspace, right over here,” Sirvon said, gesturing toward the back of the barn.
Tyber and Halton carried the supplies over. Sirvon fell in beside Tyber. “So how did an academy boy fall from grace?”
“I don’t know,” Tyber said. “I can’t answer that. I had never attained grace to begin with.”
Sirvon chuckled. “Well said, well said. But tell me, how is it that you left the royal horde? It’s my u
nderstanding that the ranks are made up with the sons of lords and powerful merchants. It must have taken something quite powerful to drive you from your family name and inheritance.”
“I’m no lord’s son. And my father is a stone cutter.”
“An honest man, then. A working man. Good. That’s good. Then you’re a man I can relate to. You hear that, Brath? Tyber’s father is a stone cutter.”
Tyber placed his box on the table. Halton hefted the pail onto its surface and plopped the bag next to it.
“I’ll need some light.”
“Bring us lanterns!” Sirvon called in Brath’s direction. “Now!”
Movement rustled in the darkness again.
“I was on a training mission. Me and Ren. The alpha was killed. Our dragons absconded. Ander found us.”
Flint scraped against steel in the darkness as someone attempted to light the lanterns. It put Tyber’s teeth on edge.
“Ander, huh? A man alone with his dragon. Picked up two boys and their… those dragons look hardly older than whelps.”
Sirvon turned back to Tyber. “Has the war been going so badly?”
“The war is over,” Tyber said.
“I can see why. If the likes of you and your dragons is all that the King has left to throw at the Western dogs.”
“The Dragon Queen stopped the war,” Tyber said.
“The Dragon Queen,” Sirvon snorted. “Do you honestly believe in such swill?”
Tyber held his tongue and turned his attention to the table. He lifted the lid off the box.
“Where are those lanterns!” Sirvon yelled.
“Coming,” a man called back. The sound of flint and steel grew more rapid.
“Let me show you your patient,” Sirvon said, and then his fingers appeared on Tyber’s arm, just beneath his shoulder as if Sirvon was about to grab him and march him over like a misbehaving child. The touch disappeared as soon as Tyber looked at Sirvon’s hand.
“Did they tell you about the dragon pox in the lecture hall?” Sirvon asked as he started toward the rear corner of the barn.
“No,” Tyber said, following him. “They never mentioned it. Not by name. But they did tell us how to treat a variety of things that we might encounter in the field.”
“You’ve had a look at Gurvi, right?”
“I have.”
“Brath!” Sirvon called. “I will light your head on fire myself and use it in place of a torch if you don’t bring me a lantern this second.”
“Coming! Coming,” Brath called from the darkness.
“Pendro has the most advanced form of this disease. She is also our dear alpha. She can no longer take wing. She can no longer lead like she was born to do. Something must be done. You have a dragon. You understand.”
“I understand,” Tyber said.
An orange glow drew Brath’s face out of the shadows. A small set of hinges squealed. Brath hurried toward them, the lantern swinging from his hand.
“Why is it so dark in here?” Tyber asked.
Sirvon stopped before the wooden gate of a stall. “I can’t afford to have windows in here. Light makes for a poor hiding place, doesn’t it?”
Brath stepped up beside the stall and held the lantern high. Sirvon yanked up on a metal latch and drew the gate back. Inside, a pale green dragon lay curled on a mound of hay. Along her shoulder, pink flesh glistened in the lantern’s light. In the center of the exposed flesh, an angry, red welt rose from a circle of white, swollen flesh. Along her back, her right wing lay spread open rather than folded neatly like most dragons at rest. A gaping hole was visible in the wing membranes. The flesh around the edge of the hole was wet, pale and blanched. It looked as if the dragon had been burned.
As Sirvon stepped inside the stall, the dragon stirred, sweeping her head slowly across the straw, then resting her jaw on the ground where she could look up at her rider. Fluid weeped from beneath several scales under her eye. She took a deep breath, then let it out, and a slight crackling noise issued from her.
“There, there, my sweet,” Sirvon said, crouching before her and stroking the top of her muzzle. The dragon’s eyes drifted shut. “I finally found you some help, sweetest. We’ll have you fixed up in no time.”
Tyber looked at Brath, who made a point of turning away, staring back toward Halton at the table.
“I heard that your horde flew through some bad air,” Tyber said to Sirvon.
The man nodded. “I suppose. But the truth is that I don’t know what has befallen my dragons.”
He looked up toward Tyber, but the angle of his face hid his expression in the shadows of the lantern light. “What say you, Academy?”
Tyber looked at the dragon’s wounds again. He crouched before her shoulder and examined the welt.
“Closer,” Sirvon called, and the light shifted around Tyber as Brath brought the lantern in and held it just behind Tyber so that the full of the light fell on the dragon and the heat of the flame brushed against the top of Tyber’s ear.
Master Gury had gone on at great length about all the things they were to watch for. So much so that it began to feel like some kind of ailment would befall every dragon the second her rider looked away. As for these sores, a number of things could have accounted for them. It couldn’t be saddle wear, as the wound he was looking at was not where a saddle would sit. Sometimes, if debris got beneath a scale, especially a scale near a joint, then the debris could work its way toward the flesh and become an irritant with the dragon’s movements. It could even wear the skin raw and cause a sore that could introduce infection.
Tyber brushed his hand over the scales that were still intact. They didn’t have the firmness that he expected. They reminded him of his baby teeth, how once they started falling out, he’d test them with his tongue constantly, and occasionally find one that had a little more give than the others. He knew then it would be the next one to fall out. All of Pendro’s scales felt that way.
He drew his hand away, rubbing his thumb over the tips of his fingers. A slight bit of oil remained on his skin. The light color of the scales made it easy to see that this dragon was brushed and oiled and cleaned regularly, so it seemed unlikely that all of this was caused by scale separation. Besides, other dragons had it as well.
“What do you feed them?” Tyber asked as he turned his attention to the hole in the wing.
“Did you not notice the goats on your approach?” Sirvon asked.
Tyber nodded. “Nothing else? No herbs or other kinds of supplements?”
“Goats and water.”
Tyber pitched himself forward onto his knees and leaned closer to sniff at the wound. His nose wrinkled and the back of his throat caught. He turned his face away quickly.
Dead flesh.
“You will make some kind of poultice to draw that out,” Sirvon said. “That is what I heard.”
Tyber sat back on his heels, placed his hands on his thighs. “I will try. I can’t guarantee—”
Sirvon’s hand clamped around Tyber’s throat and choked off the words.
“I can guarantee,” Sirvon said, his voice a whisper in Tyber’s ear, “that you will either save this dragon, or die for your ignorance.”
Sirvon released Tyber, then stepped back. “Get to work.”
Tyber pushed himself up. Pendro shifted her head along the ground, looking up at Tyber. Her eyes were glassy, gleaming in the lantern light. If Master Gury were here, he’d say that the dragon suffered an imbalance of humors. That was plain to see. The water in the dragon was drowning her, rotting her flesh.
“Would you be willing to bleed her?” Tyber asked without looking away from the dragon.
Sirvon didn’t respond.
Tyber looked at the man. He stared at his dragon. Finally, he met Tyber’s gaze. “Bloodletting relieves both fire and water. The fire is all that is keeping her alive.”
“The water is drowning her,” Tyber said, doing his best to sound as serious and knowledgeable as Master Gury. “If the
drawing compound doesn’t work, then we may have to let blood. We can rekindle her fire with meat. Dried meat.”
“Dried meat?” Sirvon asked.
“You have the goats.”
Sirvon looked back toward the opening of the barn. The other dragons had been led inside by the boys. But the barn was hardly large enough for ten dragons, so they stood side-by-side, their silhouettes sharp against the doorway opening onto the sun-baked ground beyond.
“Try your compound first,” Sirvon said. “Then we’ll see what else may need to be done. Get to work.”
Tyber started for the table. “Ander,” he called, “your assistance, please.”
Ander and Ren both approached. Several of the other riders followed them, lanterns held at their sides.
Tyber motioned at the lantern bearers. “Put those on the table, around the edges. Make some good light. Halton, go fetch me a bucket of clean water.”
Halton trotted off.
“You,” Tyber said, pointing at one of the lantern bearers. “Boil some water. A bucket’s worth. Bring it to me while it’s still hot. You. I need clean rags. Linen if you have it. And you, fetch me about five bowls. And someone said something about a mortar and pestle.”
The men arranged the lanterns on the table as directed, then moved off in a hurry, leaving Tyber alone with Ander and Ren.
“Please tell me you know what you’re doing,” Ren whispered.
“You’re doing a remarkable job so far,” Ander said as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You almost have me convinced you know what you’re doing.”
Tyber undid the twine lashing around the neck of the burlap bag. He looked at Ander, then prevented himself from glancing at Sirvon. “I couldn’t fool the herbalist,” Tyber whispered. “He knew I didn’t know exla leaf from pam root. He didn’t say as much. Not out loud, but I don’t know what all he gave me, and I think Halton suspects something is up.”
Ander’s jaw shifted in the light of the lanterns as he surveyed the table.
“Is there a problem?” Sirvon asked as he approached slowly.
“No,” Tyber said over his shoulder. “We were just plotting our escape.”
Dragonjacks: Book 1 - The Shepherd: A Dragons of Cadwaller Novel Page 10
