Dragons of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 2)

by Janet Lane-Walters

  “She lived at High Peaks. My father rescued her from the slavers. Even as a child she spoke to the dragons. Lagon took her from the tower. At Sea Cliff she saved a green and assisted the red’s escape.”

  Tiron nodded. “Has she bonded with the egg?”

  Drakon nodded. Though he wasn’t sure Arana had healed enough to visit the cavern, as soon as he returned he would take her there.

  Tiron turned away. Bekla pushed into the group. “The next red egg is mine.” She crooked her finger at Tiron. “Come with me so we can plan for the day when we speak to our dragons.” She grasped his arm and glared at Drakon. “I hope you don’t regret your choice.”

  “I don’t choose. The Old One does.” He watched the pair leave. How much had Bekla heard? Would her knowing about Arana matter? Were Tiron’s steps hesitant? Drakon felt sorry for the young man, yet he envied him. Tiron was free to accept Bekla, or any other woman. He had no bonds chaining his sexual nature.

  Drakon walked to the table of food. He saw a young woman staring after the departing pair. She looked up and he saw tears in her eyes. “I’m Drakon. Who are you?”

  “Cerene, far kin to you and Tiron. What is it like to speak to a dragon? Sometimes I thought I heard one calling me. When I woke, I knew it was a dream.”

  “Maybe not. The Old One was alone and called to be heard. Radlan and Sofona cared for him, but they could not speak or hear.”

  “Why wasn’t I sure?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She filled her plate with a variety of food. “Tell me about Arana who will be the speaker for the red. She must have been brave to save a dragon and escape.”

  “She is.” Drakon joined Cerene on a bench outside one of the houses. As he ate he told her of the things he had learned from Arana and the green dragon. Before long a crowd had gathered around them. Drakon noticed Tiron had returned and Bekla wasn’t at his side. Drakon listened while several of the young people talked about leaving the village and establishing their own homes near the tower. That night those plans followed him into his dreams.

  Three days later, the carts with the supplies they had gathered reached the tower. Arana waited with Sofona. Drakon slid from his horse. “Are your wounds healed?”

  “Almost. Sofona says I don’t need to wear dressings now. I’ve been to the cavern and helped care for the dragons.”

  “Are the eggs ready to hatch?”

  “Not yet. Verde says he isn’t sure when the day will be.” She lifted a sack from the cart. “You had a good harvest. There’s already as much in the storeroom as Lagon gathered from the hedges of four towers.”

  “Dragonets need more than ones already grown. The villagers spoke of how their hedge had begun to fail until we planted new ones grown from the seeds I brought from the Temple of Fyre.” He lifted two sacks. “Once the carts are unloaded we can go to the cavern.”

  She nodded and carried a sack to the storage room. “This would go faster if we formed a line and passed the sacks along.”

  “Good idea,” one of the carters said.

  They had just finished unloading both carts when Sofona announced a meal was ready. Arana turned to Drakon. “Must we eat now?”

  Drakon waved to Sofona. “Arana and I will be along later. I need to see the Old One and check my egg.” He ran beside Arana to the cavern.

  *Welcome back.* the Old One said. *The time for the hatching draws near. The dragonets will break their shells on the day of the first snowfall.*

  *So soon,* Drakon said. *The villagers spoke of winter’s arrival in a day or two. The carters and herdsmen want to leave after they eat so they can reach the village before a heavy snow.*

  *There is time to plan*

  *Dragons aloft.* A lighter voice spoke.

  Arana began to shake. “They’re searching for me.”

  Drakon patted her shoulder. “You’re safe here.”

  She pulled free and ran to the mouth of the cavern. “I don’t see them.”

  *I can hear the blues,* Verde said. *They swoop. They catch deer.”

  Arana’s shoulders straightened. “I’m glad it’s not a mating flight. I was to be the one Lagon chose.”

  “What do you mean?” Drakon asked.

  “The mating of dragons stirs a speaker’s passion. Lagon chooses a woman and forces her to drink the tea. When the red flies, the woman goes with her. He does the same with the blue. The flight prepared a woman for what happens after a flight. Lagon uses her brutally.”

  Drakon frowned. Did that mean when the dragonets matured and rose to mate, he and Arana would have to do the same? How? He’d been schooled by the priestesses. To consummate the act had meant punishment and even death. He wasn’t sure he could overcome the conditioning.

  “Must we act in the same manner?” he asked.

  Arana met his gaze. “You will need an heir just as Lagon does. I believe he will fail in his quest for one. He already has a daughter.”

  “Why can’t she be his heir?” He remembered how his parents had yearned for a daughter. In a way Arana had become one by adoption rather than birth.

  She made a face. “Men like Lagon think only of sons. A daughter is only useful for alliances.”

  “How old is this child?”

  “Between nine and ten.” She closed her mouth into a thin line.

  Drakon wondered what she’d been about to say. He turned back into the cavern. Perhaps he should tell Arana about his days in the harras, but the words froze in his throat. When the dragonets grew large and rose to mate it would be soon enough to speak. He walked to the eggs and knelt beside the blue. He stroked the shell. *You will rise, but in the mating flight you will fly alone.*

  *You will speak to him when he follows the red,* the Old One said. *All other times you will sit on his back as was once the way of speakers and their dragons.*

  *How?* Drakon asked. *When I rode you the position was uncomfortable. How can flying be wonderful?*

  *When I was a dragonet and green, my teacher told me about saddles being placed on the backs of red and blue dragons. They allowed the men and women to sit. Almost like riding on horses.*

  Those words triggered several memories. Sofona had mentioned a tapestry that had hung on the wall in the great hall. The huge panel had shown men and women riding above the tower or on the ground preparing to fly. His father called the work a fantasy exploring the feelings of the dragon speakers. Drakon remembered what he had done on the day of his return. He headed for the entrance. The tapestry showed what had been real and he knew where the weaving was.

  Chapter Four

  Verde sat beside the Old One and watched Arana and Drakon as they bonded with the eggs. They stroked the shells. Though the dragonets could not speak or hear, Verde listened to the sounds Arana crooned. He remembered that sound. The Old One’s eyes closed, but Verde knew the yellow was awake. *What are you thinking?*

  The Old One blinked. *Of the past, and how times have changed since I was a dragonet. I wonder how the first dragons to cross the mountains would have established this sanctuary and what happened here when they arrived. High Peaks’ tower was the first.*

  *It still is.*

  The yellow chuckled. *In a different way. The first dragons fled the wizards. Now we hide from the evil one.*

  *So tell me how the world was when you were young.*

  The Old One laughed. *Those were the same words I used to my teacher, and I imagine he asked his. In those days my name was Jade. I hatched in this very cavern.*

  *Jade is a pretty name.*

  *That speaks of a green stone, but one that hardly suits me today.* The Old One sighed. *The hatching of a green is rare. When a second one hatches in a lineage, the older one is near the end of his days.*

  Verde gasped. *I do not like to think that way.*

  *It is the truth. While the red and blue dragons live as long as twenty-five years, greens live a hundred years or more.*

  *Are you really that old?”

  *I am. Th
e new green egg should have been laid the year before the evil one invaded. He had already killed the greens of other towers.*

  *Why?*

  *He made a pact with the wizards of Fyre. For the hides of the dragons, they promised him wealth, power, and an heir. Four wizards now have those pelts.*

  *And he has what they promised?*

  *Yes.*

  *Except the heir he desires.* Verde rose. *His daughter doesn’t suit him.* He stared at the lighted columns. *Is this where we began?*

  *I am the sixth green to be born at High Peaks. Before that our kin lived in a land beyond the mountains. They hunted at will. Then wizards were born and before long their power increased. Some of the wizards were good. Others were not. Those evil men learned to use our pelts to make their powers stronger.*

  *Why did we let them live? We could have torn them apart with our claws and teeth.*

  *That was not the way of the dragons of Fyre.*

  *Why not?*

  *I do not know,* the Old One said. *We were mountain dwellers and left the lowlands to men. The wizard’s power grew great before we learned how they intended to use their powers.*

  *Will these wizards come here?*

  The Old One growled. *Not to High Peaks.*

  *The evil one at Sea Cliff welcomes them. Why cannot we learn to use their powers?*

  *Never.* For a time the yellow remained silent. *My task is to teach you the duties of a green dragon. When others of your color hatch, you will teach them.*

  The thought of having companions excited Verde. *Will they hatch soon?*

  *That I cannot say. As long as the mating pairs for each tower remain as prisoners, they cannot dance in the proper patterns. We must speak to them, but not when all we say the evil one will know. Enough of the past and the future. You must learn what you should do now.*

  Verde resumed his position on the sand. *I will listen.*

  *The green dragon is the controller. He can speak and hear all the dragons.*

  *Like Arana?*

  *In a way. She can hear, speak, and suggest, but she cannot control. The ones you hear best are those of your direct lineage. But since you were hatched at Sea Cliff you can also control those dragons. Think of them.*

  *I am.*

  *Now touch the speaking paths of the reds. Avoid the blues.*

  *Why?*

  *I wish to spy on events there. You should not speak to the blues yet. All they hear will be known by their speakers.*

  *A question.*

  *Yes.*

  *Lorana, the evil one’s heir, has heard me, yet her father refuses to see her as a ruler after he is gone. Why?*

  *She is a child and does not understand the importance of what she can do. He does not believe she hears the dragons. Come now, seek. We must learn his plans.*

  *I will seek.* Verde paused. *Join me. I will lead you to them.* He heard the voices of the red dragons. The hens chattered about what happened in the pens. There had been a hunt by the blues and a forced mating flight ,but no eggs had quickened. Now the rains of winter had begun.

  The Old One sighed. *The news is good. The dragons will remain in the tower until well after the spring planting has begun. I will tell Drakon.*

  *And I will speak to Arana. She needs to feel safe.*

  * * *

  Arana looked up from where she knelt beside the red egg. Drakon ran from the cavern. “Where are you going?” When he didn’t answer she rose. Fear rattled in her thoughts. Had Lagon invaded?

  *Arana, wait.*

  Verde’s call halted her. She paused. *There must be trouble to make Drakon run.*

  *He looks for something. I must tell you something important. There will be no more searches until after the spring planting.*

  She frowned. *How do you know?*

  *The Old One and I listened to the reds at Sea Cliff. The rains have begun, and you know how the dragons there hated to fly in the wet.*

  *What about Drakon?*

  *He needs to find an important thing to aid you when you ride on the dragon’s back,* the Old One said. *He remembers something he saw.*

  *You must help him,* Verde said. *If you will ride a dragon, you must help him find the answers. I want you to be my rider.*

  The Old One’s laughter soothed Arana’s fears. *She cannot ride on your back without lying down. She will ride the red. You and I aren’t large enough for a rider to sit on our backs. We can only carry one when they’re lying ”

  Arana patted Verde’s side. *Don’t fret, my friend. I’ll return and tell you all I learn.* She crossed the forecourt and entered the kitchen. Sofona and Radlan sat at one of the tables. “Where did Drakon go?”

  “He headed for the great hall,” Radlan said. “Raced through here like he was on fire. Shouted something about a tapestry. There’s nothing but broken furniture and dust in there. Lagon picked the place bare.”

  Sofona looked up. “Months after the invaders left I ventured into the hall and saw the destruction. They broke the furniture and stole anything they could carry. There was a heap of cloth in one corner and the bones of the lords and his sons strewn about the room. When Drakon returned he entered, spent some time there and removed the bones.”

  Arana left the kitchen and entered the hall. The broken chairs and tables had been shoved against the walls. Tatters of cloth hung from hooks where banners and arras had hung. The room was empty. “Drakon.” The sound of her voice reverberated in the empty space around her.

  “I’m here.” He emerged from a hole in the floor.

  She walked toward him. “Why has no one cleaned in here?”

  “I left the hall as I found it, except for removing the bones. Every month I come here and renew my anger and my vow to see Lagon pay for what he did.” He stepped from the darkness. “I found the bones of my father and brothers. I wrapped them in a tapestry and dragged them to the crypt. The bones of my mother and my brother’s wives were missing.” He gulped a breath. “I remember the night we had gathered to celebrate the hope of a new speaker being born. A month later they came.”

  She nodded. “I fell asleep under the table. Your father carried me to my room. That was a happy time. When they came they forced the women of the tower to watch as they killed the men. Someone hit you on the head. I thought you were dead.”

  “Did they take you with the women?”

  “Yes.”

  “What happened?”

  She clasped his hands. The site of those memories remained a raw wound. “Lagon sent us with a group of his men. He rode ahead with you. We were forced to walk. During the trek your sister-in-law lost her child. She had no care and died. Your other sister-in-law attacked the guards. They killed her.”

  Drakon met her gaze. “What happened to my mother?”

  “She died at Sea Cliff.” Arana drew a deep breath. Should she tell him how Lagon had forced the lady of High Peaks Tower into his bed? Or that she had given birth to Lagon’s daughter? Not yet, she decided. “She threw herself from the tower roof.”

  “She died from grief and shame,” Drakon said. “Though their marriage had been arranged, she loved my father and he loved her.”

  Arana smiled. “I remember how happy they were together.” She also recalled a woman filled with anger, shame, and unshed tears. A woman who hated what she had been forced to endure. “She was brave.”

  Drakon lowered his head. “I’m glad you bore witness.”

  “Why did you come in here?”

  “To visit the crypt and see if my memories were correct.”

  Arana frowned. “About that night?”

  “No, about what the tapestry showed.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I wrapped the bones in a large piece of woven fabric I found in a corner of this room. I dragged it to the crypt where I grieved for my loss. Then I went to the cavern and found Radlan, Sofona, and the Old One. He spoke and I heard him. In my sorrow, I found joy.”

  “Just as I did when Verde hatched.”

&nb
sp; He reached for her hand. “The time has come to lay the bones to rest. I need to see if the woven picture is the one I remember.”

  Arana sat grief in his eyes and wished she could offer him comfort. “Though I’m not kin by birth, I knew and loved your parents. If you want my help it is yours.”

  “You were their foster daughter.” He walked to the kitchen and returned with several torches. One was lit. “Come to the crypt. We’ll store the bones with those of the ancestors and bring the tapestry here.”

  Arana followed him down the steep steps. “What’s so special about this arras?”

  “The Old One speaks about men and women sitting on the backs of dragons. If this is the right one, we can learn how to make the saddles.”

  She put one hand on the wall to keep from falling. Sitting would be better than lying on a pad. Are you sure you want to fly? My experience was less than wonderful. I was cold. Sofona said the cold could have been one reason I was so ill.”

  He turned and met her gaze. “She also said your wounds were poorly treated and they festered. When I flew to rescue the eggs, the Old One told me to wear winter clothes.” He halted at the foot of the stairs and thrust the lit torch into a holder.

  Arana lit the other ones and placed them in holders. The flickering flames did little to dispel the gloom. Drakon paused at a long table. The rolled tapestry covered the top and hung to the floor on one side. Arana moved to the other side of the table and helped him unroll the heavy fabric.

  The bones were jumbled. She looked across the table. “Where do we place them?”

  Drakon took one of the torches and walked to the far end of the cave-like room. With a squealing sound, he opened a metal door to reveal rows of shelves containing bones and dust. “We place them here. Help me carry the bones.”

  They worked in silence. The gloomy atmosphere and the musty odor made her cough. Sadness hovered in the room. How many generations of his ancestors had been interred here? Though she’d been raised in the tower, she wasn’t kin. Only one who belonged to High Peaks should be here, but she couldn’t leave Drakon alone with his grief. When the last fragment of bone had been stored, Drakon closed the door.