Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4)

by Jason Halstead

  She walked up to the sand wyrm and knelt down behind its head. She shifted Jennaca and was rewarded with a pinch on her breast. She winced and realized she had to wait.

  When her daughter had finished, she rearranged her clothing again and then drew one of her sharper daggers. She worked it through the tough hide and found her hands slick with blood in moments. She grimaced but kept sawing away until she'd removed several strips of the muscular meat. She laid them inside an unused change of smallclothes she had and wrapped them tightly, and then tucked them away and rose up.

  The rat looked at her, his nose twitching and his whiskers quivering in the air. Jennaca giggled and reached for him. The rat stood on his hind legs for a moment before he dropped back down.

  "Whiskers," Jethallin said. She nodded. "That's what we'll call you. Whiskers."

  The rat, upon being given a name, showed no sign of caring.

  Jethallin sighed and shook her head. "Whatever," she muttered. "Let's be off then. We've wasted the hottest hours of the day and we've a long ways to go until Snake-Killer's happy."

  Whiskers fell in beside her as she left the shelter behind and began trudging through the evening sun and faint breeze that kicked up stinging sand. Her stomach rumbled and her hips and knees began to ache with the sand shifting beneath her feet.

  She pushed on in spite of her troubles. They couldn't survive long in the desert unprotected. Her wind and lips were chafed and split and her skin had been kissed by the sun too many times. She was tired, worn down by the heat, wind, and her exertions. Her earlier nap had been one of pure exhaustion after fighting the wyrm. Now the strength-sapping fatigue began to set in as the sun flashed a final time and left only half of a moon for light overhead.

  The winds died away and left them with the cooling night as a companion. As welcome as it felt at first, she was quickly panting for breath and shivering. She drank from her skins sparingly but soon realized she was drying up. Even at night, the dry air and her exertions were keeping her from recovering.

  Jethallin stumbled through the night, glancing at the sky to find the stars that she knew had to be on her right if she was to continue heading west. She lost track of time and found her mind wandering. One moment she was thinking about Snake-Killer and the next she was wondering how she could ever approach Alto in his regal court wearing the bloodstained rags she had on.

  Jethallin reached out and plucked a strange flower in front of her. "Where did a pretty thing like you come from?" she mumbled. She lifted her head and looked around. "Why am I on the ground?"

  Jennaca stretched and fussed for a moment before slipping back asleep. Jethallin glanced down at her and then looked up again. "I don't remember falling," she said. She turned and saw Whiskers was sitting up on his hind legs and looking around. His pose was funny—almost cute. She pushed the thought away and stood up. The constellation she needed, a three-pointed crown, was ahead of her as much as it was on her right. She'd lost track of herself.

  Jethallin scowled and started walking again. She couldn't do that. She had responsibilities. She had to protect her daughter. She had to help Snake-Killer. She had to find Alto and Patrina in the north.

  She stopped and stared. Ahead of her, she could make out bushes in the grass. A smile stretched her cracked lips. She had to make a fire. "At last," she murmured.

  She stumbled to the bush and tried to fall to her knees before it. She could make out other ones nearby, as well as a few scraggly stunted trees. She reached for the bush and grabbed one of the branches, and then cried out as the spines on it pricked her hand. She drew it back and cursed, and then glanced around. The other bushes looked to be the same. But what about the trees?

  The first immature tree she found was tough and wiry, but the lack of water meant the wood was mostly dry. More important, it wasn't covered in thorns, just a thick bark that was tough enough to protect it from the sun and wood-eating predators.

  It wasn't strong enough to protect from her dagger, though. She stripped it in long pieces of tinder and added in some of the brown grasses that she broke off. She made a pile and then made ready to strike flint against steel when she realized she had nothing to feed the fire once it started. Jethallin turned and sought out another tree. She cut it apart and tugged out the roots before straightening and turning back to find her pile of tinder.

  Jethallin stood still and confused. Where had the first tree been? She spun slowly and realized she wouldn't see it because she'd already hacked it apart. She groaned and tried to remember where she'd come from. In the darkness, her footprints in the sand weren't as obvious as she'd thought they'd be.

  Whiskers squeaked and dropped down to all fours. He sniffed the air and squeaked again.

  Jethallin frowned. "What is it?" she asked. She sniffed the air herself and almost laughed at the notion she could smell whatever it was that bothered the rat. She shook her head and was about to strike out in a random direction when something moved in the darkness.

  She crouched low and made ready to drop her bundle of sticks. She saw more movement as shapes slunk from one bush to the next and moved closer to her. The shapes weren't slithering; they were walking on four legs. She wasn't sure how many there were but after watching them grow closer and seeing eyes glint with reflected moonlight in the darkness, she guessed there was at least six of them.

  "Dogs," she grunted. "Wild dogs."

  Whiskers squeaked.

  "Next time warn me sooner," she berated the rat.

  The dogs approached and began to move out until they circled the woman, her baby, and the rat. Jethallin let the bundle fall and drew the sword and a dagger. The wild dogs growled and edged closer. She counted again and saw that there were seven of them now.

  One approached closer and then jumped as Jethallin turned to face it. She swung her sword to let them know she was dangerous. Snake-Killer had taught her that a threat wasn't a threat unless it was real. She had to prove to them that she would hurt them. Kill them, even. Maybe they were just dogs and not humans, but that didn't make them any less likely to kill her.

  Two of the wild dogs were smaller than the others. She saw them shifting back and forth and growling more than the others. They bumped into each other and snapped at each other. They were pups.

  Her eyes kept going, studying her foes as she'd been taught. Another dog next to the pups was much larger. She had some scars on her muzzle and flank, but she moved with a confidence that spoke of experience and cunning. Perhaps more, Jethallin wondered as she flicked an ear and snarled.

  One of the other dogs lunged at her from behind. Jethallin twisted and swung her sword, forcing the dog to lurch to the side and bury his snout in the sand. He sprang away but the movement made Jennaca wake with a startled cry.

  Jethallin was distracted and tried to cradle her daughter. Two more dogs leapt at her, each from a different side. She sliced at one and halted it but the other one's jaw clamped on her cloak and pulled her off balance. She staggered towards it and fell to one knee even as Whiskers leapt on the dog and bit it in the haunch.

  The dog yipped and leapt away, and then turned back to the rat and snarled. Whiskers was no ordinary rat by any stretch. He stood nearly as tall as the dogs and was a little bit longer. He bared his teeth back at the wild dog and didn't back down.

  The two pups ran forward, thinking Jethallin was beaten. She batted one aside as it jumped for her head and sent it rolling through her bundle of firewood. The other one planted its feet on her thigh and snapped at Jennaca's sling, only to find Jethallin's arm clamping it against her side and squeezing it tightly.

  Jethallin rose up, Jennaca crying against her belly, while the pup kicked and scrambled in an attempt to escape her. She turned and got a proper hold of it, dropping her sword in the process so she could hold onto it. She turned until the pup's mother was in front of her and held the scrambling pup at bay.

  The mother growled and shook her head. The other dogs stopped edging forward and snarling. They sa
nk back and retreated a few steps, leaving Jethallin facing the pack's leader. Even the dog squaring off against Whiskers retreated.

  "I'm here with my baby, my pup," Jethallin said to the alpha female. "I don't want her hurt, the same as you don't want yours hurt. I don't know if you can understand me, but I've been talking to a rat most of the day now, so why not?"

  Jethallin glanced at the pup in her arms and saw it snarling at her. She shook it and it stopped. The pup's mother took a step forward until Jethallin looked up and met her eyes. "Your pup is skin and bones. He's hungry. I bet you all are. I'm not your meal, and neither is Whiskers or Jennaca. I have some food and I'll share it with you, but if you attack me I'll kill your pup before you can stop me."

  She growled and then turned and walked three steps to where her other pup was. She clamped her teeth on the thick skin at the back of his neck and pulled him away. She let him go and barked at him, and then barked again to make him run off into the darkness. She turned to the others and growled at them. Her foot dug at the ground, a final signal that the other dogs accepted. They turned away and slunk into the desert night.

  Jethallin nodded and set the pup on the ground. She let go and backed away as he snapped at her. The mother snarled, causing him to lower his own head and run off with his tail lowered in shame. The alpha female stood and stared at Jethallin a moment longer and then she turned and trotted away with her skin clinging to her ribs.

  Jethallin let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. A sound that was a cross between a laugh and a sob escaped her lips. Jennaca was squirming and trying to get comfortable against her, bringing her joy back to practical matters in an instant.

  She grabbed the firewood and turned to the rat. "Whiskers, if you can understand me, help me find my campfire."

  The rat turned and started walking through the darkness. Jethallin followed, her eyes digging into the darkness in hopes of not seeing any sign of the dogs.

  Chapter 8

  "You should get rid of the child."

  Jethallin's grip on her weapons tightened. She scowled at Snake-Killer as his body parted the thick mists of the swamp. "The child is my daughter. Don't your people value children?"

  "Yes, but you are distracted by her. She makes you weak. Not a hunter. Not a warrior. A mother."

  She stiffened and spat through clenched teeth, "Am I stupid for having her when I was still a kid? Yes. But I did, and she's mine. And nothing will take her away from me. Not you and not some stupid animal in the desert. If it comes to saving your unthankful hide or even giving up my own life to keep her safe, I'll do it. Don't ever think otherwise."

  Snake-Killer's dark eyes bored into hers but she held his gaze and felt the heat in her chest and face. She shifted her weapons, keeping her muscles ready in case he tried to surprise her. "You will die for her?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Then you will die for her," he repeated.

  Jethallin's brow began to furrow when he snapped his spear forward. It slid through his fingers as though it was an arrow shot from a bow. She twisted away and cut her sword across in the opposite direction. Jethallin heard herself grunt as the razor-edged stone tip caught on her shirt and ripped the sleeve and scored a grazing hit against her arm. She spun around and sucked in fresh air to center herself.

  "I'm learning," she stated, pleased with her own reaction.

  Snake-Killer's spear sliced across, snagging her shirt and ripping it as she jumped back. She clamped her lips together and lunged forward as soon as his spear was past. He brought it back but she ducked and shrugged the strike of the spear's shaft off the side of her head.

  Jethallin thought her strike was sure as she swung her short sword at his thigh. Snake-Killer snapped his spear around and hit her blade with the butt of his spear, accelerating her swing and twisting the blade in her grasp so that it passed in front of his thigh instead of into it. She stumbled into him and struck his broad chest with her shoulder.

  Jethallin tried to bounce back and jump away to gain some room but Snake-Killer was already moving. He drove his knee into her belly and lifted her off the ground with the force of the strike. Jethallin's breath exploded from her mouth and her sword splashed into the swamp. She fell to her hands and knees and gagged as her stomach tried to empty itself while her shocked lungs demanded more air. It took her several seconds to realize Snake-Killer hadn't finished her off yet.

  She leaned back and sat on her calves in the water. She looked up at him with her chest still heaving and spittle on her chin. Snake-Killer towered over her but his spear he held at his side, stone tip pointing in the air and butt planted in the water. She didn't trust herself to speak but her eyes narrowed in confusion. Why wasn't he finishing her off like he always did?

  Her eyes searched his face and then dropped down to his body. Her breathing quieted a moment later when she saw what stopped him. She dropped her eyes to her hand that wielded her dagger. It was empty, but she didn't remember losing her grip on it. She looked back at him and saw the weapon sticking out of his belly a few inches on the left-hand side and high enough to be placed between his ribs.

  Snake-Killer pulled the dagger out and looked at it, and then he dropped it in the water in front of her. He nodded once and then offered his hand to her. No blood flowed from his wound.

  Jethallin reached around and found her sword in the muck. She grabbed it and then plucked her dagger from where he'd dropped it. She sheathed both and accepted his offered hand to rise.

  "You learn slow and get distracted easily," Snake-Killer said. "But you are learning."

  "I hurt you," Jethallin said. "Um, will you be okay? I heal when I leave here, but you never leave."

  He nodded. "It will be another scar by the time you return," he said.

  "Okay, good. Um, I'm sorry?"

  "This is why you are here, to learn to fight. You were clumsy against the snake—"

  "Sand wyrm," Jethallin corrected. She jerked and stared at him. "How do you know about that?"

  "I see what you see," he said. "Your dance saved you."

  "So you know about the snake. What else? Did you see the pack of wild dogs too?"

  "They're around you," he said.

  Jethallin's eyes widened and her breath whistled through her nose. She turned and then realized he meant they were around her where she slept with Jennaca cuddled against her. "What? Send me back! I can't let them have her."

  He shook his head. "You cowed their leader and showed them mercy."

  "Mercy? How, by not killing the pup?"

  "That and by giving them your food."

  Jethallin frowned. She'd cooked the snake and eaten a few bites and then given some tiny morsels to Jennaca so she could practice chewing. The rest she'd walked into the darkness and placed on a small tree for the dogs. "I figured if they ate something they wouldn't be hungry enough to try us again."

  He nodded. "They aren't. For now."

  Jethallin nodded and found her eyes drawn to Snake-Killer's. "So now what? Usually I know we're done fighting because you've killed me. Again. Then I wake up and it's time for me to do whatever it is I have to do. I don't think I've gotten any decent sleep in months. No, years. Before you and Jennaca, I still couldn't sleep more than a few hours at a time. Where I come from, heavy sleepers don't wake up at all."

  "You are getting closer," Snake-Killer said, ignoring the information she shared. "Tomorrow you will walk through hills. Another day and you will find the swamp my people lived near. I was taken to a cave in the mountains on the western edge, not far from my village."

  A smile tugged at the edges of her lips. "Does this mean you think I'm ready?"

  Snake-Killer snorted. "You are slow and weak, but lucky."

  "I'll take lucky. It's about time Saint Dice rolled in my favor." Jethallin called upon the gambler's saint and the multi-sided tools priests claimed they used to help him decide who to grant a boon for or against.

  Snake-Killer scowled. "Do not ask for he
lp from others. You must learn to use your own strength. You have been given the breath in your chest and the strength of your arm. Everything else you must earn. Give thanks to Saint Preth for that and do not spurn his gifts by begging for more than you are due!"

  Jethallin bristled at his rebuke. "Seems to me you're the one asking for help, not me! I'm doing you a favor, not asking you for one. I know how to take care of myself."

  The hunter smirked and lifted his spear out of the water. "You talk too much," he said.

  Jethallin jumped back and caught herself in the water without stumbling. She was getting better, whether he would admit it or not. She drew her sword. "So now you're going to try to kill me again? Be careful. I got through your guard once—I bet I can do it again."

  Snake-Killer leapt at her without a word. She grunted as she fought back, but it was obvious to her what was about to happen. He'd been holding back before. This time, he fought like he meant it. Her mouth opened in a scream that she couldn't release when his spear plunged into her belly and tore through her viscera and lungs with the agony of molten steel.

  Jethallin dimly felt him tug his spear out of her chest, snagging and breaking a rib in the process. She was already falling past the cold water into a deeper darkness.

  She woke up a heartbeat later and sat up, gasping for breath. Jennaca cried from the sudden movement but remained cradled in Jethallin's arm. She settled down and fell back asleep before her mother's breathing returned to normal.

  Jethallin glanced around and saw the outlines of the dogs gathered nearby. They sat together or apart, ears up and eyes roving across the scrub-covered desert. She turned to the east and saw the first sliver of orange rising above the desert. It was morning already.

  Jethallin's heart was beating slowly enough it didn't ache in her chest anymore. She reached down and prodded the sore spot in her side where his spear had killed her. She shook the thought away but she hissed in pain when she touched herself.

  The neophyte hunter shifted her clothing and looked at her side. She gasped when she found the discoloration on her skin. She couldn't tell in the darkness of the early morning, but it looked like a faded scar where he'd stabbed her. "That's where I stabbed him," she whispered. Was it a coincidence or had he done it on purpose? And how had it gone from her dream body to her real body?