by Mark Robson
The woman returned with a tray and placed it on a small table next to his bed. On it there was a hunk of bread, a cup of milk and a bowl of steaming broth. Pell tried to move again, but it was too painful. To his embarrassment, the woman grabbed him under his armpits and hauled him up into a sitting position. The movement was incredibly painful, but aside from drawing a sharp intake of breath, he said nothing.
‘Can you manage, or does you want me to feed you?’ she asked, moving the tray to his lap.
‘I’ll be all right,’ he mumbled, adding his thanks.
She nodded. ‘I’ll be back in a bit. Don’t let Saffi bother you. I’ve told her not to come in here, but if she does sneak in then do us a favour and send her away, would you?’
Pell nodded. So I can’t corrupt her with my dark ways, no doubt, he thought grimly, keeping his suspicions to himself. The woman’s prejudice bothered him, but he was determined to remain civil. Rather than dwell on it, he concentrated on the tray of food. The bread was not fresh, but neither could it yet be called stale. The vegetable stew looked watery, but the steamy scent rising from it smelled good. Pell took a bite from the bread and sipped some milk from the cup. The milk was nicely chilled and the bread reduced to a heavenly paste in his mouth.
Alternating between dunking the bread in the steaming vegetable broth and eating it with sips of milk, he slowly consumed everything on the tray. By the time he was finished he felt exhausted, and waves of pain washed up and down his body with a cruel rhythm. As she had promised, the woman returned a short while later. She removed the empty tray and helped make him comfortable again. Pell barely managed to mumble his thanks before sleep dragged him down into its deep dark well.
When he next surfaced, Pell felt much better. Bracing himself against the anticipated spikes of agony, he tentatively raised his right arm a few finger-widths above the blankets. It hurt, but nothing like it had earlier. Heartened, he tested his body further, moving first one limb, then the next. Having tried them all, he eased himself up into a sitting position. As he did so, his head spun and he teetered on the brink of passing out. The moment passed. His head cleared. He blinked a few times to clear the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
The sheets fell from his torso and he realised that he was bare to his waist. By twisting his head, Pell could just see the great lines of purple across his back. Shadow must have hit him pretty hard to cause such vivid bruising, he realised. He had no way of telling whether he had suffered any internal injuries, but he sensed he must have been lucky.
His clothes were draped over a nearby chair. Taking care not to stand up too quickly, Pell eased himself up to his feet. With tentative, shuffling steps he crossed the short distance from the bed to the chair. Getting his shirt over his head was a struggle, but somehow he managed it. The effort left him breathless for some time.
‘Are you all right?’ Shadow asked, her voice full of concern.
‘I’ll be fine,’ he replied. ‘I’m going to finish dressing, see if the woman has any more food and then we’ll get out of here.’
‘That would be wonderful, but are you sure it’s wise? I feel the pull of the Oracle’s mission, Pell, but I can also feel your pain. I’m not convinced you’re well enough to travel yet.’
‘I’m not staying in this house one heartbeat longer than necessary, Shadow. Didn’t you hear the poison in her tone last time she spoke to me? The woman hates me. She hates you. She hates having me here. I don’t want to give that hatred time to stew. I’d like to put some distance between us and this place by nightfall.’
‘I’ll be waiting for you outside,’ she assured him.
Tears welled in his eyes as he struggled into his flying trousers, and the weight of his jacket hung heavy on his shoulders. The most difficult challenge, however, was his boots. The combination of bending and pulling proved too difficult. No matter how hard he tried, Pell could not get his feet into them properly. Eventually, he let out a cry of frustration, mingled with pain, that brought his hostess running.
‘What d’you think you’re doin’?’ she asked, bustling over to the bed and sitting him upright. She knelt by his feet and pulled off the boot that was halfway onto his right foot.
‘Getting out of your life,’ he replied. ‘Help me on with my boots and I’ll be on my way.’
‘What’s the matter with you? Gotta death wish, or somethin’? You’d have to be crazy to try’n fly, state you’re in.’
‘Crazy?’ He laughed. ‘Maybe I am, missus. But I’m going anyway. I’ve got to. I made a promise. No matter what you think of me, my word is good. Please, help me on with my boots. There’s money in my saddlebag. I won’t see you out of pocket on my behalf, but I must leave now.’
The woman looked up at him, her dark eyes narrowed once more. This time, however, her gaze was more thoughtful than hostile. She regarded him for a few heartbeats before making up her mind.
‘Very well, young master. I’ll help you into your boots and send you on your way. But you’re not leavin’ without havin’ a bite more to eat before you go. I insist.’
‘Thank you. That would be most kind.’
Pell was glad to accept her offer. His stomach was rumbling and the little food he had in his saddlebags was past its best. He would need to buy more supplies soon. He had a fair amount of money, but not enough to last long. He and Shadow would need to earn more at a town or city soon, unless they were to live off the land.
Money was easy enough to come by when you had a dragon’s abilities to trade. Authorities were always happy to pay to have a dragon determine whether those accused of crimes were guilty, or innocent. The draconic ability to search a man’s mind for the truth was renowned, if somewhat exaggerated. It saved the judiciary a huge amount of time and expense. Shadow had made several such judgements since they had been together. She had claimed confidence in her decision each time, but Pell had some doubts about her ability to be one hundred per cent sure. Despite their special mental link he felt certain that he could hide things from her if he wanted to, so he found himself questioning how she could determine the truth in the minds of others.
To Pell’s thinking, moving trees, or other heavy objects, was far more honest work. Shadow did not like it as much. She felt the work to be demeaning. But when funds were low, it offered a good source of income. A dragon’s strength was greater than the combined power of several horses. Not only this, but the dragon’s intelligence meant that if you asked a dragon to move something, it was moved to exactly where you wanted it.
With his boots on, Pell felt more stable on his feet. He followed the woman to the door, moving more easily with almost every step. The little girl, Saffi, was waiting as he stepped through into the next room.
‘Hey, mister! Is your dragon goin’ to eat old Strumble?’
‘Now don’t start your pesterin’, Saffi. If you wants to stay, you’ll have to promise not to bother him.’
Pell looked at the little girl’s rebellious face and decided to answer, despite the mother’s admonition. ‘Strumble?’ he asked, giving her a smile. ‘I doubt it. Shadow doesn’t need to eat as often as we do. She only ate yesterday, so we’ll be long gone before she needs to eat again. Who is old Strumble, anyway?’
The little girl’s face displayed a mixture of relief and disappointment. ‘Strumble’s our cow, mister. An evil old heffer, she is. Stamp on your foot as soon as look at you she would. An’ she’s not light, despite her bein’ skinny.’
‘Actually I last ate two days ago, but you can assure her that the cow is safe. I wouldn’t touch that old bag of bones unless I was starving,’ Shadow told him.
‘Shadow tells me she’s not interested in eating your cow,’ Pell assured her gently. ‘She likes to hunt in the wilds. The meat is tastier.’ He looked around as if checking to see if anyone were looking, and dropped his voice to a secretive whisper. ‘Between you and me, I think she’s a bit fussy about her food. She says she can taste the difference, but I think she’s making it up.
’
Shadow’s loud snort from outside the window set the little girl giggling, her hands covering her mouth.
‘The difference is marked to anyone with a sense of taste,’ Shadow huffed.
‘Just playing to my audience,’ Pell replied innocently, not speaking aloud.
‘You’re all right, mister,’ Saffi announced in a loud voice. ‘Your dragon’s a bit scary, but you’re all right.’
‘Thank you, Saffi. I’m glad you think so.’
And he was glad. It felt good to be accepted. So why did he find it so hard to integrate into the dragonrider community? It was strange. At home he had always been accepted by his siblings and popular with his peers, but from the moment he met Shadow his relationships with them had changed. His surge of ambition had isolated him from everyone he had held dear. He still found it easy to charm those from whom he sensed no challenge, but amongst his peers he became insular and cold.
Was he wrong to be ambitious? He and Shadow were a formidable partnership. He could feel their potential as a team. The fall, humbling as it had been, had left him feeling more complete. When the leaders of the night dragon enclave learned he had embarked on the Great Quest, his standing would rise rapidly.
Riders from other enclaves did not trust the night dragons. Therefore, he could not afford to trust them. It was wrong that dragons should be judged by appearance, but there was a distinct prejudice. It was present both amongst the general populace, and amongst the rest of the dragonrider community. Night dragons looked particularly fierce with their heavily armoured bodies, their sharp horns and red eyes. Because of this, folk were quick to blame no end of ills on them.
It’s time that changed, he thought. It’ll take a while, but it’s a goal worth striving for.
Chapter Five
A Confident Guess
Glowing embers and the smouldering remains of twigs and smaller branches dripped from the trees in a red, smoking rain. Steam hissed from the damp, leafy carpet like a thousand snakes. The yelps of pain and fright from those unfortunate dogs singed by spark or flame were lost amongst the frenzied barking of the main pack.
Nolita had been ready for the blast of fire. Firestorm had given her a timely warning. She held her breath, curled into a tight ball on her saddle and tucked her head between her forearms as she clung to the pommel with all her strength.
‘Hang on tight, Nolita. We’re getting out of here.’
Nolita didn’t reply to her dragon’s order. Instead she kept her head low and, ignoring the danger from the dogs leaping and scrabbling at Firestorm’s flanks, she slipped her feet down into the stirrups. It was well that she did, for the added stability kept her from falling as her dragon shot forwards through the smoke-filled tunnel under the trees.
Unable to hold her breath any longer, she drew in a gulping gasp. The thick smoke instantly irritated the back of her throat, triggering an involuntary fit of coughing. Panic gripped her afresh as she lost control of her breathing. Nolita felt she had gained some mastery over her fear during the last few days, but a familiar wall of blackness was looming. Her head spun as she flirted with unconsciousness. Being on Firestorm’s back brought fear enough, but the concentrated attack by the dogs had raised her fear levels to new heights. Now she was not only on a dragon’s back, but smoke-blind, choking, and racing through a treacherous, burning tunnel under the trees. It was hard to imagine anything more terrifying.
Even as Firestorm ran forwards, she felt him draw in another deep breath. The roar as he sent a second blast of flame ahead of them was not unexpected, but the wash of heat was so intense that she wondered if some of the smell of burning that filled her mouth, nose and throat was that of her own hair.
‘Stay with me, Nolita,’ Fire urged. ‘Nearly there. One more blast will see us clear.’
She forced her eyes open a crack, but she couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. He was preparing to spew another gout of fire. She could feel him gathering it beneath her. She clamped her eyelids tight shut again. A moment later and a third roar issued from his throat. The mindless barking of the dogs was beginning to fall behind them now. Suddenly she felt the change of air. They were clear of the trees. She felt Firestorm’s muscles bunch as he extended his wings and began his first downstroke.
The whoosh of air that marked the beginning of Firestorm’s take-off brought a sense of relief. A few days ago it would have amplified her fear, but the increasingly familiar rhythmic feeling as they launched into the air served this time to calm her. They had escaped the pack. Her coughing began to subside. Fresh air forced the smoke from her lungs, but the taste of it remained as she started to regain control of her breathing.
A sharp series of cracking reports were followed an instant later by a stinging sensation in her chest. It took a moment to realise that the pain it brought was not hers, but Firestorm’s. She was feeling it through their mental link. The sound of something whizzing through the air helped her identify the source of the noise. Someone was directing one of the strange weapons of this world in their direction. More cracking noises announced the release of more weapons, but none found their mark.
‘We’re clear,’ Fire announced. ‘The others are safe. They are right behind us.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied, feeling guilty. Nolita had been so caught up in her own predicament that she had not spared a thought for her companions. Tears of relief replaced those caused by the smoke. She twisted her head to dash them from her cheeks with her shoulder. Letting go of the pommel to wipe them away with her hand was still beyond her.
With a final hacking cough she cleared her throat. ‘I felt that weapon hit you, Fire,’ she said aloud. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine, Nolita,’ he replied, clearly touched by her concern. ‘It stings a little, but it did not penetrate my scales.’
‘Good,’ she said. And to her amazement, she found that she meant it. It was barely more than a week ago that Elian and Kira had tied her to Aurora’s saddle and whisked into this quest. Revulsion and terror had been her dominant emotions then, but now she cared about this great, fire-breathing beast. Its appearance still frightened her. Its ability to communicate directly with her mind still felt alien and uncomfortable, but despite everything she was developing positive feelings for him that she would never have believed possible just a short time ago.
She looked around. As they climbed, the predawn light was increasing. The silhouette of Aurora’s sleek form was clearly visible a little behind and to the right. She could see no sign of Fang and Kira, but that was not unusual. Fang’s camouflage made him totally invisible in this light, and Kira’s slim form was not easy to see.
‘We’re going to keep climbing,’ Fire informed her. ‘Aside from being safer, the dawn will come more quickly the higher we get.’
‘Really?’ Nolita replied. ‘Why’s that? Surely the sun isn’t affected by our flying.’
‘No,’ Fire chuckled. ‘Dragons have many abilities, but we cannot move the sun. Would that we could, for then Aurora’s dawn window would be easy to meet. No, it’s all to do with angles. I’ll explain it to you sometime if you like.’
‘Angles? Thank you, no. My brother, Balard, tried to explain angles to me last year, Fire. I developed a headache faster than you’d believe possible. I don’t think I have the right sort of mind for clever stuff like that.’
‘I think you might be surprised at what you can learn if you try, Nolita, now that your mind is less clouded by fear. There are many things that you could excel at if you put your mind to them.’
‘Really?’ she said, wondering what sorts of things the dragon felt she might be good at. The strange mental bridge that linked their minds drew her. She had shied away from it until now, choosing to shout across the link rather than explore it. But the bridge between their minds was not going to go away. It was another of the boundaries marking the edge of her comfort zone. Could she direct her thoughts across the bridge? What would she find on the other side?
Would she be able to read Firestorm’s thoughts?
The last few days had taught her some of the benefits of confronting her fears. With a sense of trepidation, she probed the bond with tentative exploratory thought. It felt strange to touch the link in this way – uncomfortable, but sort of exciting. It reminded her of when she had secretly searched the house for midwinter gifts as a little girl. The delicious mixture of excitement and the danger of being caught by her parents was unforgettable. She had never discovered where her mother concealed the gifts, but the thrill of the search had stayed with her.
Her experience this time was different. Where she had failed in her goal as a child, this time she succeeded. Her gentle tendril of thought crossed the bridge into Firestorm’s mind. With a gasp, she withdrew it immediately.
It took a moment for her to understand what she had seen. The sensation in that alien environment had been one of vastness, like the Chamber of the Sun’s Steps, but much, much bigger. More, there had been a pervading sense of wisdom and knowledge that spanned back over many season rotations. As she tried to resolve the experience into an image she could relate to, a picture of a great library formed – a huge storehouse of knowledge that stretched into the distance in all directions.
