The Blue Flame [Book 1 of the Daradawn Series]

by Barbara M. Hodges

  The dwarf stood at Zax's head, his stout hairy legs bare from the knee down. Regan patted Maggie, who slobbered wet kisses all over her hand. “How are you doing, girl?"

  Angus rolled his shoulders and grumbled. “We'd both be doing better if she'd quit wiggling."

  "Maybe she needs to pee."

  "She just went an hour ago."

  "Then she probably just wants out of the pack."

  "Well, if we get moving she'll be able to get out sooner. Have you said your good-byes to his royalness?"

  "I've said all I intend to, ever."

  Angus patted her hand. “Smart girl.” He grabbed a hand full of Zax's mane and swung up onto the horse's back. Regan winced and touched her own swinging braid. “I would never cause Zax or any other living creature pain,” Angus said. As if in agreement the gelding turned his head and nipped Angus's shirtsleeve.

  "But ... never mind."

  "What?"

  "I was going to ask how you would know, but you really would know if you caused pain, at least where horses are concerned."

  Angus nodded. “Peter told you."

  "He says I've mind-linked with Zara.” She told the dwarf of her impressions as Zara slept, and hearing the dragon in her head.

  Angus gazed across at her for a long minute. “Then you understand."

  "I'm beginning to."

  Peter led Skylar to where they stood. “Angus, let me take Maggie for awhile and give your back a respite."

  "No, she's fine,” the dwarf said.

  Regan's gaze dropped to Peter's long legs, bared from mid-thigh down. Long, lean muscles corded them. A swimmer's legs. Peter placed his foot in Skylar's stirrup and his thigh muscles tensed as he swung the other leg over Skylar's back.

  "We have only an hour until the camp, but we must ride with caution.” Peter said. “Regan, are you listening to me?"

  Regan started. Her gaze met his. Then she flushed and looked away. “Yes, I heard you."

  "Let us be off."

  Chapter 12

  THE RIVER LAPPED against Regan's bare knees and goose pimples blossomed on her thighs. Peter rode well ahead of her and Angus. “I'm glad that we're crossing this river in summer instead of winter,” she said over her shoulder to the dwarf.

  "The Queen's River is fed by high mountain snow,” Angus said.

  From the bank behind them, a jay squawked. Regan turned as the bird launched from the fork of an oak's overhanging branch. With a smooth even beat of its wings, the jay flew high, then soared above them in the warm thermals. It swooped near, crying out its disdain for the ground-bound creatures. Regan shook her head, laughing at the aerial display. “It seems to prefer its mode of travel."

  Gilda's ears twitched at the laughter, and Regan reached between them and wound her fingers in Gilda's white-streaked forelock. “That sassy bird may have the freedom of the skies, but it'll never know the caress of a hand."

  Gilda snorted and Regan tugged playfully on the tuft of hair. “Now watch your manners,” she said, then unwound her fingers and settled back into the warm leather of the saddle.

  The mare suddenly came to a standstill in the river. Regan nudged Gilda in the ribs with her heels, but the horse shook her mane and refused to budge. Regan leaned over Gilda's neck and looked down into the water's clear depth. “What's wrong, lady?"

  Angus and Zax came up beside her.

  Regan glanced at Angus. “What's Gilda's problem?"

  The dwarf reached across and rested his hand just above Gilda's nose. His eyes unfocused for a moment and then he withdrew his hand and nodded. “The girth has loosened,” he said. “If we ride hard you will fall."

  "God, how stupid. I felt it slip a little when we entered the river but didn't think anything about it.” Regan glanced at Zax. “These horses aren't normal, are they?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "An ordinary horse wouldn't notice, or care, if its girth were loose."

  "They're elven stock,” Angus said.

  "You said so earlier, but why does that make them different?"

  "You were just in Vilsathor. Every inch of it teems with magic. The trees, grass, soil ... everything that grows, or feeds on what grows, is touched by magic."

  "Oh,” Regan said. “Well, tell her thank you for me."

  "I think you should tell her."

  Regan gaped at him. “Me? But you're the one who mind-links with horses. Mine is with dragons, or is it just with Zara?"

  "If you can mind-speak Zara then you can mind-speak all creatures of magic."

  "Is there a problem?” Peter called to them from halfway across the river.

  Angus waved his arm over his head. “Everything is fine. I was just showing Regan a red-velvet turtle."

  "The wildlife lesson can wait. We must reach Kelsey before dark.” Peter replied, then rode on.

  Regan cocked an eyebrow at Angus. “Red-velvet turtle?"

  The dwarf pointed. “See. Right by Zax's back leg—a red-velvet turtle."

  Regan looked down. It wasn't very big, about the size of her palm, but it was a turtle, and it was very red. “I've never seen anything like it."

  "Another citizen of Vilsathor.” He reached across and touched Regan's arm. “Are you willing to give it a try? To open your mind to Gilda?"

  The mare turned and met Regan's eyes. “Sure, why not? Just tell me what to do."

  "Just open your senses to her, and wait."

  The yellow that circled the horse's pupils deepened and glowed, but that was all.

  "Nothing,” Regan said. “Now can we go before Peter comes back and gets us?"

  "A little more. Be patient."

  Regan sighed, but looked into Gilda's eyes again. Warm affection flowed over her, then, “Hello, Regan,” floated into her mind. Regan gasped and jerked back.

  The dwarf whooped. “Great Earth Mother. Zax was right. You do have the power to mind-link with horses. Zax caught your thoughts back on the far bank when you touched him.” Angus paused and looked at her strangely.

  Regan glanced down at her body. “What? Did I just turn green?"

  "I was wondering what it was Zax heard?"

  Regan frowned at the gelding. “Why? What did he tell you?"

  The gelding snorted and Angus winked at her. “He doesn't tell tales, but whatever it was he found funny."

  Regan looked up at the still circling jay. “Dragons and horses. Do you think I can mind-link with more? Maybe that jay?"

  Angus took the hint and nodded. “Perhaps. Try with Maggie."

  Regan touched the basset hound's nose. “Hello, Maggie,” she sent.

  "It's about time,” Maggie returned.

  Regan slowly shook her head. “It works with her, too."

  Angus stared at her, an expression of awe crossing his face. “You are as Thea was."

  "What do you mean?"

  "You can mind-speak all animals."

  "We don't know that.” She turned toward Peter. He had reached the far bank and stood waiting. She could almost feel his disapproval radiating out to them. “Can we keep this between us?"

  Angus frowned. “You don't want Peter to know?"

  "Not just yet. I need time to think about this."

  "I don't lie to him, but if he doesn't ask...” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Perhaps it is best. The less who know, the better chance we have of keeping it from Dirkk."

  Dirkk. Regan shuddered. She remembered Peter's earlier words about Zara. “...he would use your power or destroy it."

  Angus glanced across at the mare. “Speak to Gilda."

  "How?"

  "You already are in flesh-to-flesh contact; just talk."

  Regan scratched the mare's left ear. Gilda swished her tail. “Thank you, beautiful lady,” Regan sent.

  The mare blew softly through her nose, then lowered her muzzle into the swirling water. “She didn't answer me."

  "Didn't she? Body communication sometimes is still the best."

  Regan's brow wrinkled, then she
said. “Is skin contact necessary ... to speak to animals?"

  "For those creatures of non-magic."

  A sense of dread filled her and Regan shivered. “What about Ru'taha and Black Vipers? They're magic. Can I link with them?"

  "I don't know, but it's likely. That is why Dirkk must not find out. He would not welcome another who could control his pets."

  Regan shuddered, then smiled with stiff lips. “Do you think I could have a drink from your flask?"

  Angus's eyes widened. He hesitated, then reached inside his shirt and withdrew the flask. “It's strong,” he said, handing it across to her.

  Regan unscrewed the stopper and sniffed. It was odorless. She tipped the flask and took a small sip. Numbing cold coated her throat, followed by searing fire. She gasped and bent over in a spasm of coughing.

  Angus grinned. “I told you it was strong,"

  When she could speak, she said, “What's in it?"

  "Fire and Ice is a Dwarven secret. Men have been killed trying to discover its making."

  Regan swallowed to soothe her scorched throat. “Well, they can keep it. I'll stick to a nice mellow Cabernet wine."

  Angus grinned. “Come. We must ride. I feel daggers from Peter's eyes."

  Regan watched Angus mind-speak Zax and the two of them rode on. Gilda chose that moment to raise her head from the water and prance sideways. Her high-stepping hooves splashed water head-high and drenched Regan with wet rainbows. Regan gasped at the stinging cold, then reached behind her and lightly slapped Gilda's rump. “Enough of that. We're going.” She started to press her heel into the mare's side, then stopped. “I guess I don't need to do that anymore,” she sent instead. The mare neighed and surged forward.

  They reached the far side of the river and Gilda scrambled up the steep bank. Shivering in her damp shirt, Regan reined in beside Peter and Angus. Trees towered over them. A brooding silence hung in the still air. The trees watch and wait, but for what? Regan tilted her head and looked up their gnarled length. Were they silent guardians of a more peaceful time? A wind stirred the uppermost branches and a sigh seemed to float to where she sat. When, it moaned, when?

  "What is this place?” she asked. “It's silent as a tomb.” The hair on her arms and bare legs rose. “I feel eyes on me."

  Peter shook his head and smiled at her. “It is only Kelsey's sentries you feel. We are close to camp now."

  Regan felt irritation rise at his condescending tone. “Why don't they come out?"

  The mage shrugged. “Following Kelsey's orders I would guess. Let us find your sister."

  "I'd like to put my pants on."

  Peter frowned at her. “You cannot wait until camp?"

  Regan slid from Gilda's back, then grabbed her pants from the front of the saddle horn and shook them out. She looked at Peter and Angus. “No, and will you turn your heads?"

  The dwarf and mage exchanged glances and rolled their eyes before looking away. Regan stepped into the pants, pulled them over her hips and tied the drawstring. “Aren't you guys going to get dressed?” she said, fastening her belt around her waist.

  "When in minutes I can be wearing trousers that are both clean and dry? Does it bother you?” Peter asked.

  "Don't be silly. Catch a cold if you want,” she said, mounting Gilda.

  "Then let us ride."

  Regan turned and saw Angus looking over Peter's shoulder into the grove of trees. He frowned and his hand crept to his battle axe. “I will ride a little behind."

  Gilda side-stepped restively. “Angus fears,” entered Regan's mind.

  "What does he fear?"

  Gilda tossed her head, then answered. “Blackness, evil, Ru'taha."

  Peter leaned toward her. “Why are you sitting there? Your sister waits."

  Regan started. “Lead on."

  Peter stared at her a moment, a searching expression on his face, then he turned and nudged Skylar in the ribs. Regan urged Gilda forward with a silent request. She glanced at Angus as she rode by, but his eyes were focused on the trees beyond. The skin between her shoulder blades began to crawl. Regan stared at Peter's back. Why doesn't he feel it?

  "Peter,” she said, “would you show me how you made that wall when the Black Vipers attacked?"

  "It will be part of your training."

  "I mean, would you show me now?"

  He reined Skylar in and waited for her to come abreast. “What do you fear?"

  Regan avoided his eyes. “I didn't say I feared anything."

  "There is nothing to be alarmed about. The sentries would let us know."

  "Angus fears Ru'taha."

  "We all fear Ru'taha."

  Regan stared at him. Was he being deliberately obtuse? “I mean, right now."

  "Angus said nothing about Ru'taha. Why do you think he fears an attack now?"

  "I just know,” she murmured.

  "I see. Would you feel safer if I called out to the sentries?"

  "No, don't do..."

  "Warriors, it is High Mage Peter. I have Regan with me.” Peter called into the trees around them.

  Behind them pounded galloping hooves. “What in hell's name are you doing, boy?” Angus said, halting beside them.

  The thick brush to their left rustled.

  Skylar's war cry rang out and Peter's face paled.

  "Ride,” Angus cried, slapping Gilda on the rump with the palm of his hand.

  Gilda leapt ahead. As the mare raced past Peter, Regan saw indecision on his face.

  "Not now, boy.” She heard Angus cry. “Camp is just beyond. We will make our stand there."

  Out of the corner of her eye Regan saw pale forms jerking branches aside. Angus and Zax thundered by her, and she leaned in close to Gilda's neck. The mare's mane whipped backwards. Through streaming eyes, Regan saw the trees change to sheer rock cliffs.

  Ahead, Angus swung from Zax's back. He grabbed his battle axe and whipped around to face the narrow canyon entrance.

  Gilda raced past, slowed, then skidded to a halt, sides heaving. Sliding from Gilda's back, Regan wiped a shirtsleeve across her eyes and sprinted to where Angus stood.

  Still in the backpack, Maggie's short front legs were pressed stiff against Angus's shoulders. The basset hound's head was back, nose pointed upward as she sniffed the air. Regan loosened the drawstring under the dog's legs and pulled her from the pack.

  Freed from the dog's weight, Angus rolled his shoulders, never taking his gaze from the narrow entrance. Maggie took a stance beside him. Her upper lip curled back and a low growl rumbled deep in her chest.

  Where is Peter? Regan stared at the canyon's entrance. Surely he wouldn't try to fight on his own? In answer to her unspoken question, Skylar charged through the trees at the canyon's opening. Behind them were two white naked figures, and beyond them a horde more. Pale arms rippling with muscles swung studded clubs with whistling chains in circles above horned-helmed heads.

  Ru'taha? They look like elves.

  A Ru'taha neared Skylar's flank and circled his club faster.

  "No,” Regan cried. Without conscious thought, words tumbled from her lips. “Round and round she goes; where she stops nobody knows."

  A whirlwind formed beside the Ru'taha, then moved over it. It picked the creature up from the ground and whisked it away, spinning like a carnival ride gone berserk.

  As Peter and Skylar charged past, Angus severed the head of the second.

  Peter whirled Skylar about. He leapt from the horse's back and turned to face the charging horde. With a cry of rage he thrust both palms out toward the Ru'taha. A red ball of flame the size of a baseball flew from his hands. As it streaked from his palms, it expanded. In the seconds it took to reach the charging pack, it grew to the size of a bowling ball. The sphere of fire struck the first Ru'taha head on and exploded in a shower of red flames. Where the fiery shower landed, skin sizzled.

  Regan backed from the burning torches of flesh, the smell of charred meat making her gag. Why don't they scream?
/>
  She turned to face Angus and Peter. The dwarf still stared at the canyon mouth, his battle axe held ready. Peter met her eyes and took a stumbling step toward her. Regan jumped to meet him and clasped her arms around his waist, her knees buckling as he collapsed against her. “Angus!"

  The dwarf laid his battle axe aside, rushed to them, and placed his hands beneath Peter's armpits. With care he lowered the mage to the ground.

  "Has he been wounded?” Regan asked, running her gaze over Peter's body.

  "No, it's the price the magic demands.” Angus looked at her in puzzlement. “Aren't you tired?"

  "No, but I didn't use much."

  Angus frowned. “Magic is magic."

  Peter thrashed his head side to side, then his eyes flew open.

  "Rest,” Angus ordered. “We are safe now."

  Peter sighed and closed his eyes. The dwarf glanced at Regan. “We will give him a few minutes,” he said, his eyes daring her to object.

  Maggie whined and thrust her nose into Regan's hand. She stroked the dog's head as her gaze moved over the deserted camp.

  Lengths of canvas lay trampled, ropes and tethering spikes still attached. A smithing anvil lay tipped on its side. Shafts of charred wood and shattered blades surrounded the anvil. Wagons teetered on broken wheels, their beds splintered mounds of wood. Crusted cooking pots hung from tripods over blackened fire-pits.

  Maggie growled low in her throat and Regan glanced at the dog. The basset hound's nose scouted the wind. Her neck ruff bristled. Regan looked up. Circling over the trees to the east was a score of large dark birds. “Buzzards.” She shuddered and turned to Angus. “Should we check out what they're circling?"

  Angus shook his head. “By the time we get there it will be too late."

  "But..."

  "The living are more important than the dead,” the dwarf said abruptly, then turned away from her.

  Regan's gaze raked the area once more. “So where is everybody?"

  Peter stirred and opened his eyes. He slowly sat up, then stared at the abandoned canyon. “They could not hold out."

  Regan frowned. “What do you mean? Where are they?"

  Peter stared at her in silence before dropping his head into his hands.

  Glaring, Regan grabbed his shoulder and shook it. “Answer me. Where have they gone?"