The Ice Dragon: Dragon Knights, Book 3

by Bianca D'Arc

  Tor made her promise, when she finally roused, to never expend herself so greatly ever again. Over time, she learned how to control the healing energy until she could give just enough to keep herself conscious while still healing him as best she could. With multiple treatments of this kind, she’d healed serious wounds, many inflicted by Salomar’s soldiers in their never-ending quest to get Tor back.

  Now the soldiers had a new dragon to chase and Lana knew the threat to them all would double. This striking black dragon was smaller and perhaps more easily controlled than Tor. Though only five winters old, Tor was huge and so very strong. Salomar’s soldiers usually tried to kill him now instead of recapture. They probably knew they had very little chance of controlling him if they did catch him, but still, every once in a while, the witch tried.

  Bonded as she was with Tor’s mind, Lana was well aware of Loralie’s attempts to coerce him with her spells, as she had his mother. Only their bond had saved him several times now. Lana was able to shake him free of the witch’s spell, grounding his mind to hers in a way that defied the witch’s power. She’d heard Loralie’s shrieks of rage echo through the fading connection the witch had forged with Tor each time they outwitted her.

  The muscular black dragon had taken three bolts, each worse than the last. Lana feared he wouldn’t be flying again anytime soon, if he even survived these terrible wounds. Still, there was something very alluring about him. His faint cinnamon and clove scent appealed to her on a level she didn’t quite understand.

  “Tor, can you remove the arrows? Gently, please.”

  Lana stood back to let the silver dragon work. She was too small to tug the huge bolts out of tough dragon skin, but to Tor’s great strength, it was simple. She directed him to the one in the dragon’s side first, moving in close to place her hands over the welling blood. It ran like a river the moment the bolt was pulled free, but when she touched his tough black hide, something magical within her stirred to life. This was very different from the usual healing response she often felt in her body and mind. This was something much, much more.

  Lana gasped and nearly pulled back, but the black dragon’s thick blood was pulsing dully against her fingers. He needed help and his need redirected her energy from shock to healing. She’d think about the rest later. First, she had to save him—if she could.

  Using all her hard-won skill, Lana sent healing, magical heat into the wound, staunching the flow of the dragon’s blood and starting just a bit of the repair. She had to pace herself. There were two other wounds to close first, then she could use what remained of her energy to begin the major healing. If she had anything left.

  She tried her best to ignore the familiar feeling of him. She’d never seen this dragon before, yet something inside her recognized him. Something inside her reached out to him, wanting to keep him safe, to keep him near.

  Lana shook her head, moving to the bolt sticking out between the dragon’s lower left leg and his body. A groin injury could be fatal, since a major artery flowed there. With great caution, she asked Tor to remove the bolt and was immediately covered in the dragon’s thick blood as it spurted from the nicked artery. Lana leaned into the wound, using all her strength, sending the fire of her energies to the source of the blood flow. She panicked as it resisted her first attempts.

  Lana breathed deeply and called on her power, marshaling it and renewing her efforts. She pressed harder, both physically and with her gift, not letting up until the blood stopped flowing and the wound started to close.

  “Thank the Mother,” she mumbled aloud as the wounded artery sealed. The stunning black dragon had lost a lot of blood, but her magic was working. He might just pull through. She stumbled over to the last bolt, sticking out of his leathery wing, tears of strain falling unheeded down her cheeks.

  “I think this one has to come out the other side. If we pull it back, the barbs will carve a hole in his wing that might never heal.”

  “I agree.” Tor positioned himself behind the black wing, supporting the bone and musculature while Lana held the wing taut.

  With more gentleness than anyone would credit a dragon Tor’s size, he pulled the shaft through, limiting the amount of damage to the wing as much as possible. Again, she used what little remained of her energy to stop the oozing blood and begin healing. While not life-threatening, this was perhaps the worst wound, as it would severely hinder his ability to fly if it didn’t heal well. Her heart nearly broke at the thought of this magnificent dragon unable to soar high where he belonged.

  “You need to rest.” Tor’s concerned voice sounded through her foggy mind. “I’ll keep him warm and watch over him while you sleep.” He nudged her with his nose and Lana stumbled toward the pile of furs against the far wall. Within moments she was asleep, drained from using her gift on the strange black dragon who stirred something unknown deep in her soul.

  The black dragon roused as pain pierced through the layers of unconsciousness. He blinked several times, focusing on the silver dragon who puffed warm air to keep the cave at a tolerable temperature.

  “Where am I?”

  Diamond eyes blinked open at him. They reflected every color of the rainbow. They also communicated the huge dragon’s excitement.

  “You’re awake!”

  “Apparently so. Thank you for your assistance. I am Roland.”

  “I’m Tor.”

  The silver seemed so young and eager. He didn’t even blink at mention of Roland’s name. That was odd enough, but he also seemed not to know what or who the black dragon was, which was odder still.

  “Greetings, Sir Tor. Your help was timely indeed.”

  “Sir? What’s that?”

  Roland was confused. “Aren’t you a fighting dragon? I thought I saw a knight on your back.”

  “I don’t know what a knight is. You saw Lana.”

  “Lana?”

  “The one who healed you. Or at least, began your healing. It tires her.”

  “A female?”

  “I suppose. She says she’s human, but she feels like dragon to me, even if she looks different.”

  Roland filed that information away for later consideration, a sneaking suspicion forming in his mind about his rescuers.

  “Tor, how old are you?”

  The huge silver dragon paused. “I think this is my fifth winter. Lana can tell you for sure.”

  “Sweet Mother of All. You’re just a baby. What you did to help me was amazing. Again, I thank you.” Roland tried to shift and grimaced in pain. “I thought I was surely dead.”

  “You shouldn’t move. Lana won’t like it if you start bleeding again.”

  “I won’t like it either, I assure you.” Roland chuckled with a dragonish snort.

  “Lana won’t wake up for a few hours yet. Healing tires her. It almost killed her once before she learned better.”

  So, Roland thought to himself, an untrained healer and a giant wild dragonet. An odd combination, to be sure. He was intrigued.

  “Tell me where you were hatched, young Tor. Where is your mother? Your sire?”

  The dragonet seemed to grow anxious. “My mommy left when I was in the shell. Then Lana kept fires burning to keep me warm and she talked to me. She said she wasn’t my mommy, but I love her. She helped me grow and kept me warm when Salomar wanted me to eat her! He thought I would eat Lana!” The dragonet chuckled smokily. “I ate his mean dogs instead.”

  Roland knew who Salomar was. The despicable warlord thought himself king of this frozen wasteland. As far as Roland was concerned, he was welcome to it, but Salomar had recently allied himself with Skithdron and that was not to be tolerated. Now, hearing what the swine had done to this innocent wild dragonet, the list of his crimes grew. Roland vowed to make him pay for each and every one.

  “It was a while before I learned how to fly and breathe fire. After that, Lana and I made plans, and we finally escaped about two winters ago. They’ve been trying to get us back ever since.”

  “S
o those huge crossbows were made for you?”

  Tor nodded his great head with a grim sadness. “But I learned how to fly too fast and funny for them to be able to hit me. Lana helped me practice. It’s a fun game now, but the first time they hit me, I almost died. That’s when Lana healed me and nearly died too.” The dragonet grew solemn once more.

  “But she learned better, you said.” Suddenly, Roland was concerned for the small figure he could just see huddled under the covers against the far wall. “Is she all right after helping me?”

  The silver head swiveled to look fondly over at his companion, his sinuous neck craning until he could breathe warm air over the small, sleeping form. “Lana is just tired. When she wakes up, she can help you more. Until then, I’ll make sure Salomar can’t get to you.”

  “You think they’ll come after me?”

  “Without a doubt. Salomar wants a pet dragon. I’m too big, but he’ll probably think you might be easier to control because you’re smaller than me.” The big head turned and peered down at him curiously. “Is that as big as you’re going to get? Lana says I haven’t finished growing yet. Have you?”

  Roland had to laugh, the snort of dragonish amusement sending a small puff of smoke to the ceiling. “I’m fully grown, Tor. For my family, I’m large, but black dragons are usually smaller than other kinds. What we lack in size, we make up for in other ways, I like to think.”

  “Like how?” The silver perched his huge head on his front paws, facing him.

  “Well, usually we’re known for our flying ability. Being smaller allows us to maneuver better than some of the larger dragons.”

  “But the arrows hit you!”

  Roland shook his head sadly. “That was my own stupidity, son. I didn’t realize those bolts were diamond-tipped. I assumed they’d bounce right off my hide.”

  “So did I, the first time.” The younger dragon’s tone was commiserating.

  “In my land it’s illegal to hunt dragons.”

  “Then I’d like to go there. I don’t like being shot at all the time. And it would be safer for Lana. I’ve almost dropped her a few times.”

  “She rides a lot?”

  “All the time. She’s my best friend. We’re always together. She teaches me and sometimes she says I even teach her. I love her and she loves me.”

  “Amazing.” The black dragon shook his head softly in wonder.

  “Why? Don’t you have human friends? Lana says not all of them are like Salomar and his soldiers.”

  “Yes, I have many human friends and Lana is wise to tell you that many humans are good people. It’s just, in my experience, it’s rare for a woman to be able to speak with a dragon, much less live with one. In my land, it’s usual for human males to be chosen as companions by fighting dragons. They bond and live together, training and fighting as a pair.”

  “That’s what Lana and I do. She and I hunt together and we fight Salomar’s soldiers when they attack us.”

  “If she were male, she would be a knight,” Roland mused to the silver dragon though he knew the youngster didn’t understand the full implications of his words.

  Chapter Two

  Lana woke feeling a bit more refreshed than she expected. Using her healing gift always took something out of her, but this time it felt just a little different. She sat up, keeping one of the furs around her shoulders. She wore only her thin, patched shirt and leggings. Tor kept the cave warm, but leaving a cozy pile of furs was hard for her when she first woke up. She always felt cold.

  Lana relieved herself in the small pot she had fashioned from twigs and clay, then fired in Tor’s hot breath. Later she would pitch the contents into a small ditch she’d dug outside their lair. For now though, she washed up with the melted snow they kept on hand inside and went to check on her patient.

  The black dragon’s eyes were open and he tracked her every movement. The feel of his emerald gaze was warming in a way she couldn’t define. His cinnamon-clove scent grew stronger as she neared him, bathing her senses in an odd warmth that seemed to come from within.

  “Can you hear me?”

  “Yes, lady. You have my thanks.”

  The intimate feel of his deep voice rumbling through her mind made her twitch. She’d never shared this kind of speech with anyone but Tor. Lana moved cautiously closer to the black dragon, searching out the wounds she’d begun to heal the night before.

  “I’m glad we were in time. How do you feel?”

  “Alive, which is more than I could have hoped for yesterday.”

  Lana approached him carefully. She didn’t know this startlingly black dragon. Tor woke and nudged her with his nose playfully.

  “Roland didn’t move ’cause I told him you’d be mad if he started bleeding again.”

  She reached up to hug the silver dragon, scratching behind his eye ridges in the way he liked. “You’re a good boy, Tor.”

  “He’s not a pet.” The black dragon’s voice growled into her mind alone.

  Lana answered him the same way. “No, he’s not a pet. He’s a baby. He needs love and praise.”

  The black dragon backed down. “I stand corrected.”

  “Just who in the hells are you?” She faced him down with more courage than brains, considering he was much bigger than she and had the advantage of being able to breathe fire. “You should know I won’t let you hurt him in any way.”

  “You sound like his mother.”

  “I’m the closest thing he has to one and just as protective, so be warned.”

  The black dragon bowed his head stiffly. “Tor was telling me about Salomar while you slept.” His words echoed through both her mind and the dragonet’s as he included the youngster in the conversation once more.

  “His scouts discovered this lair two days ago. I expect they’ll be back soon in force, to try to capture or kill us again, so you need to heal up quick.” The black dragon grimaced as she approached, reaching out her hand to the ragged wound in his side. “I’ll do my best to help you, but I can’t drain myself so much again in case we need to fight our way out.”

  “I understand.”

  “Can you lift your wing?”

  He complied and she stood under the shaky limb, examining the damage.

  “Tor, sweetheart, can you help him?”

  She waited as Tor’s big silver head moved under the black’s wing, taking the weight off his sore and trembling muscles. When he was steadier, Lana stepped closer. Reaching out her hands, she hummed softly, expending just a touch of her healing energy to repair the tear in his wing.

  “You could probably fly on this now, but a day or two of natural healing and rest would be best.” She moved to check the most painful of his injuries, the one near his groin. Again, she placed her warm little hands on the wound and again he felt the tingle of her energies bathe the area in healing. It was truly amazing.

  When the dragonet said the woman had healed him, he’d assumed Tor meant in the traditional ways with cauterization, stitching and herbs, but this was so much more. This woman was a dragon healer!

  Usually only females of the royal line had such powers. Could she be one of the lost daughters of Princess Adora of Kent, the woman recently discovered near the eastern border of his land? It seemed too impossible, yet there was little other explanation for this small woman’s remarkable talent.

  Her touch tickled, especially in such a sensitive area, but he was in too much pain to react to her intimate touches. She thought him an ordinary dragon. He wondered what she would think about handling him so intimately if she knew what he really was.

  He watched her beautiful face, the slender feminine arches of her brows knit together in concern and concentration as she gave her all to the effort of healing him. She was so beautiful, she took his breath away. Slender and fit, she was sleekly muscled like a gazelle and just as graceful and innocent.

  Her green eyes stirred him in ways he didn’t fully understand as they flashed over his dragon form, assessing the
damage to his tough hide. He saw intelligence spark in her gaze as she calculated how to treat him—what to tackle first and how much of her energy to expend. It was a delicate balance, he knew, for a true healer to give so freely of themselves to their patients. She was a rare and brilliant woman to have figured out so much of her talent so completely on her own.

  “You have a gentle touch for a self-trained healer.”

  She stroked the crease where his leg met his body, just barely touching the deep, angry wound there. A pulse of her healing energy shot into him, easing his pain somewhat.

  “I’ve had a lot of practice with Tor.”

  The younger dragon nodded his big silver head. “I get hurt a lot.”

  “As do all young dragons,” Roland agreed with a bit of amusement. “I was constantly in stitches when I first learned to fly.”

  “Stitches?”

  “The old healer in my training Lair used to sew my wounds together with a needle and thread. Sometimes that hurt more than the wound itself.”

  Tor seemed to think that over. “Lana sews sometimes, but on skins for her clothes. Never on me!”

  “You’re lucky she is a true healer, my boy. She doesn’t need to use stitches.” He watched as she moved back to the wound in his side.

  She was rationing her energy wisely this time, Roland could tell, but still she gave him all she could and it made a huge difference. Already he was in less pain and could move a bit more freely. His wing looked almost as good as new, though it was still quite sore. But he could fly on it if he absolutely had to. That was important with the possibility of attack at any time.

  “What is a training Lair?” Tor was proving to be a very curious boy.

  “Well, a Lair of any kind is a place where dragons and knights live together and train. It’s usually carved into the side of a cliff so it’s only reachable by flying. Inside, it’s divided up into private suites for the dragons and their knights. Occasionally, mated pairs will live there too, in larger suites to accommodate their mates and children. I trained for a while in a Lair near the royal palace when I first learned to fly.”