Dirt

by CC Hogan

  Chapter 19 – Sisters

  The room was ten foot by ten foot with no windows and a hard stone floor. At one side, against the cold stone of the gorge, was a rough, straw mattress, stained, old and covered with a thin blanket. A bucket of water with a ladle sat by the door for washing and drinking and another bucket sat the other side of the door for waste. Hanging from the ceiling was a simple oil lamp, nothing more than a wick in a metal clasp being held in a dish of oil. It gave off a small, smoky light.

  Rusty sat on the mattress cross-legged, a blanket around her shoulders, stroking the head of her friend Precious, who was lying on her lap, shivering. The Prelate’s daughter had been gravely ill for several days now. Their clothes had been taken when they had landed at Jerr-Vone. When they were presented to the buyer in the market in the back of a tea room, they were naked. Their buyer had kept them naked ever since, encouraging his men to leer at them. “You will get used to it. All slaves like you are naked, and you will get used to it.” And they had, to a certain extent, but the cold of these mountains had been too much, and the kitchen staff had given them blankets.

  The buyer had opened the door this morning for the first time and told them their owner would be returning this evening. Tomorrow they would be washed and presented to him, and from that moment, their fate would be his to control. The buyer would have no further dealings with them and would leave. Rusty would miss him. He was hard, unfeeling and uncouth, but he had fed them and allowed them to bathe a couple of times in cold streams as they journeyed here. And he was the only one who had spoken to them or told them anything. The captain and his crew had tied them up, beaten them senseless, taking care not to mark them permanently, and ignored them. Yes, Rusty would miss being talked to.

  “Rusty, I am so cold!”

  “Hush, Pree,” Rusty told the girl and pulled her closer to warm her. “We will be out of this room tomorrow, and then I hope we will be warm again.”

  Precious Hearting wrapped her hands around her friend and hugged. “You and I, Rusty?”

  “You and I, Pree.”

  When the girls had been taken from Slypa Burh, they had been put in the hold of the boat together. Rusty had never served the Prelate’s daughter before and the girls did not know each other. They had only had time to swap names and try to work out what was happening before the low-class maid and the high-class daughter of the Prelate, the ruler of Redust, had been beaten and then split up, kept in dark storerooms. When they had arrived at Jerr-Vone, and were stripped and tied together, any remaining differences in rank vanished. They were only a year apart, Precious being the older at eighteen, had red hair and were a similar thin, but tough build. It was obvious that they had been set up and it was no coincidence that Rusty had been assigned to the daughter that day. Someone wanted two of a kind and they were it. They became immediate and firm friends, and had kept each other strong ever since over the weeks.

  This morning, the riddle of their capture had been answered when they were told the identity of their owner, Belin Tekkinmod, because Tekkinmod was Prelate Hearting’s cousin. The girls had not been stolen from the castle, they had been sold. The news had broken Pree. She was already terribly ill, but the shock of her father’s action had knocked her back, and she had been a shivering wreck all day.

  Rusty stroked her friend’s hair. She was not feeling well herself. On the journey through Bind, they had been treated as slaves, but they had been fed, minimally, and given clean water. The ride on the Dummerhole had been rough but fast, and though the girls had been exposed and so often cold, so very cold, they had been beaten less. They had soon realised that they were being kept untouched for their new owner; it was a small mercy. Since arriving at the hall, they hadn’t been fed, and the only water was in the bucket.

  It was difficult to work out exactly what time it was, but Rusty was certain it was night. The noisy kitchen had quietened, and now all she could hear was someone sweeping.

  “Pree, lie down, I must put out the lamp so we don’t waste the oil.”

  They had been rationing their little supply of whale oil. Whoever brought in water in the morning would light it again, but they had yet to top up the fuel. Pree rolled over on the mattress, pulling the blanket around her. Rusty stood, pinched out the meagre flame then cuddled in next to her friend. She must try to sleep.

  Night times were the worst time for both of them. It was when the reality of their situation overwhelmed them, and both had spent many nights sobbing. But neither of them had during the day, and they were not going to give their captors the satisfaction of seeing how broken they were. This night, however, Pree was quiet, too ill to cry, and Rusty could feel the girl drift off to sleep. She cuddled closer. If Pree got any colder, she would worsen, and Rusty was desperately worried about her.

  Rusty closed her eyes and immediately the face of her brother Johnson came to her. He was the first thing she saw when she closed her eyes, and he gave her strength to survive the panic and nightmares she would suffer the rest of the night. His face was warm and kind, and he was tall and strong. He had been her protector for most of her life, even before her mother died. He had been her brother, her best friend and sometimes almost like a father, since the little they saw of their real father was nothing to take comfort from. Farthing still was her protector, even here. He had been for the whole journey if he had known it.

  A quiet cough in the corridor made her open her eyes. Rusty had heard the sweeper leave and did not expect anyone else in the kitchen till the early dawn. She could hear the scrape of the kitchen door being opened, and through the quiet of the night, a few splashes and the soft clunk of pots being opened and closed. Then the door scraped again and all went quiet. A shiver passed through Rusty’s body and she hoped she wasn’t also falling ill. One of them had to be strong, and it was her turn at the moment. She pulled their thin blankets tighter around them and tried to sleep.

  “Bloody hell, it is dark down there, Mr Farthing!” Weasel pulled himself back onto the cold roof of the hall, helped by the strong hand of the young man.

  “Were the girls there?” Farthing asked.

  “I didn’t dare look. I barely made it to the kitchen, and as I came out, I heard the guards pass by at the top end of the corridor. I did find out one thing, though; Tekkinmod is here. He arrived at dusk. I heard the guards talking about it. Apparently, they have had some problem with a neighbour or something and they were saying that Tekkinmod is going to be furious. Anyway, that is his problem, but that also means that he will have brought back more men with him.”

  “I was hoping he would not be back yet,” Eofin whispered. “Did you manage to deliver our surprise?”

  “Oh yes! That powder that Mab-Tok made up last night is perfect. There is a well in the corner of the kitchen, but I didn’t put it in there as it would probably just drain away. They have a handpump connected to it and a whole line of huge copper jugs ready to fill. So, I sprinkled a bit in each, put a handful in the stock, a load in the beer, and even put some mixed in with the bags of cereal they have out for breakfast, and in the jar of coffee.”

  “How much did you use?”

  “All of it.”

  “All of it?” Farthing nearly yelled out and was shushed quiet by the other three. “That is what Mab-Tok uses to purge red mountain dragons when they eat too much fat! He said to only use a pinch.”

  “Yeah, brilliant, isn’t it?” Weasel sounded like he had just won a barrel of gold. “It is really fast working too. I don’t expect them to be able to stand, let alone chase us.”

  Farthing chuckled, in spite of himself.

  “Now, however, we must wait another couple of hours,” Eofin cautioned them. “And I, for one, am already cold!”

  “It’s that thin Tepid Lakes blood, that is,” Weasel said.

  “I was born here, Eafa!”

  “Oh, for the gods, call me Weasel! Only my enem
ies call me Eafa or people when they are annoyed at me,”

  “Great Mother calls you Eafa.”

  “My point exactly.”

  Eofin looked sideways at the magician and shook his head. There was obviously a large difference in perspective here and Farthing was sure he did not want to get involved. He was nothing, however, if not curious.

  “Why are you called Weasel?”

  “Great mother says it was a joke when he was young,” Eofin told Farthing. “When it became evident he had some talents, his brothers thought this wizard should have a grand title, so they called him the Doomed Wizard of Tepid Lakes. The trouble was, their kid brother, my great father who was only five, couldn’t say Wizard, and it came out as Weasel. So, The Doomed Weasel of Tepid Lakes is what he became. The better question is why did he carry on using it?”

  Weasel just shrugged and didn’t seem keen to finish the story. Another mystery for another day, thought Farthing.

  “Farthing, wake up!” Eofin nudged the young man.

  “What?”

  “How do you manage to sleep on a roof when it is freezing cold?”

  “I wasn’t brought up with nice comfy beds and fires that burn all night. Are we going?”

  “Right now.” Weasel handed him the skin of water and he took a good slurp to wake himself up.

  “Ready.”

  Of the four of them, Farthing was the biggest, with Eofin a little shorter and Weasel and Gellin a similar size. Gellin, who was only a year older than Farthing, had been invaluable. When they had abseiled down, he had gone head first and had more or less run down the cliff in dead silence. Gellin had held the bottom of the ropes to stop them flapping against the roof or the cliff wall while the other three had slid down backwards and far more slowly. The dragons had then coiled the ropes up and flown off to the Black Hills. That had been a trick in itself. Mab-Tok had realised that just flapping away from the ledge was going to make too much noise, so he and his friends had leapt off the ledge, and swooped down the gorge in the opposite direction from the Dummerholes before starting to flap. Farthing reckoned from what he saw the day before that they must have had very little room to pull off this feat without hitting the cliff or the ground.

  The route down was simple enough. Farthing dropped down off the roof first to a broad ledge, and Gellin, almost hanging off the edge of the roof, passed down their swords and knives and a large club. Farthing had never picked up a sword, let alone used one, but there was a ball game in Redust that involved a large club-like bat that Farthing excelled at. When given the choice of weapons, he had warmed to the war club immediately. Gellin had pointed out that with its iron loops to stop it splitting is was extremely heavy, and was then suitably impressed when Farthing had waved it around like it was a walking stick. The hole-digging was paying dividends.

  Weasel took the lead as he had found his way earlier. Two floors down and they were above a back door, but since Weasel had sneaked through it a couple of hours earlier, it had gained a guard.

  “Damn,” he mouthed silently. Gellin looked up at Farthing and waved his head down close and whispered something. Farthing nodded. Gellin carefully turned himself upside down and Farthing grabbed him by the feet. Gellin was light, like Weasel, but not that light, and the veins were standing up on Farthing’s neck as, from a kneeling position, he lowered Gellin upside down to the door. Just as he reached close to the guard, the small man pulled his heavy knife out of his belt and struck the guard hard over the head with the pommel. The guard dropped to the ground like a stone, and going by the cracking sound, Farthing suspected the guard was far beyond just being knocked out. Farthing dragged Gellin back up with the help of Weasel and Eofin, and they all jumped down, pulling the lifeless guard out of the way.

  Weasel put his hand and ear to the door and shrugged. He obviously wasn’t sure whether there was someone the other side or not, but it was unlikely. He gently pulled the door open and the four of them sneaked in. From there, it was a long straight passage that ran all the way along the rear of the building to the kitchen, but there was no hiding room if any guards appeared. Weasel had hidden in doorways, but with four of them that was not going to be possible, and they had to be a lot quicker. Eofin drew his sword as did Gellin and Weasel his knife.

  “How far down?” he whispered to Weasel.

  “See the big door at the end? That is the kitchen that you saw when you came selling chickens. The girls’ room must be the door on the left just before it.”

  That made sense to Eofin. “Ready? We just go for it.” They all looked at each other, nodded, and then trotted down the corridor. They were only ten paces from the kitchen when the door burst open and three men ran straight at them.

  “Oh, shit!” Weasel said, but instead of a fight, the men pushed passed them, tugging at their belts, and shot into another room retching and puking. The four just looked at each other. “I love that Mab-Tok,” Weasel said with quiet glee. Ten paces later and they were outside the locked door.

  Eofin touched Farthing’s arm. “Both of us together. Ready?”

  Farthing nodded and aimed his shoulder at the door.

  Rusty snapped herself fully awake. Next door in the kitchen something was going on. First, she had heard a lot of swearing but had thought that was a dream. Then she had heard crashing of metal and more swearing. And then the unmistakable sound of someone throwing up violently and even more swearing. Then she heard someone shout that there was something wrong with the water and to take beers up to the guards, and someone else threw up.

  “Pree!” Rusty shook the girl next to her. Pree just mumbled. Rusty couldn’t see her in the dark, but she felt her body; the girl was burning up. “Pree, you got to wake up, something is happening.”

  “What is?”

  “I don’t know, but something is going on.”

  There was more crashing and then someone shouted something like “that is disgusting, get out of here!” She heard the kitchen door bang open hard and the sound of running feet and gagging and someone laughing? What on Dirt was going on? Pree moaned again and Rusty wrapped the blanket tightly around the shivering girl.

  “Three, two, one…”

  There was not a chance in hell that the door was going to survive the combined force of a seasoned fighter and a big, young man who had weeks of rage to get rid of. The door didn’t spring open, it just collapsed, and Farthing rushed in, his club held before him. There, on the far side of the small room, naked, dirty and scared out of her wits was his little sister, her mouth hanging open. All his anger drained out of him and he fell to his knees. He had found her.

  “Farthing, get up!” Weasel walked past the young man, dragged off his robe and wrapped it around the naked girl. He lifted her chin. “Who are you? Rustina or Precious?”

  “I am Rusty,” the girl said, then shook the shock out of her head. “This is Pree, I mean Precious. She is dangerously ill.”

  “Farthing, pick up the Prelate’s daughter. Rusty, we have only seconds and the guards are going to be down here wondering why all the kitchen staff are shitting everywhere.”

  “We have no clothes.”

  “Girl, I am over a thousand years old, your lack of clothes is nothing. Come on, we have to fly.” He pulled the girl to her feet while Farthing, still in half a daze picked up the blanket complete with the Prelate’s daughter. All he wanted to do was pull his sister into his arms, but that would have to wait.

  “Who are you?” the girl whispered into his neck as he followed the others back into the corridor.

  “I am Rusty’s brother, and we are getting out of here.” The girl whispered something soft and weak and passed out.

  “Weasel, she is really, really ill!” he shouted.

  “Well hurry up then!”

  Gellin and Eofin led them back up the corridor. As they charged passed the other doors, the smell of shit became almost overwhelming, but not ev
eryone was affected, and out of a side corridor stepped two large guards. It took them just moments to realise what was going on and they had their swords out. Gellin and Eofin charged, pushing the guards back, kicking, punching and stabbing at them. It was not pretty or neat, it was barbaric, but within seconds the guards were dead.

  “Come on, there will be more!”

  The sounds of chaos drifted up to the dragons on the cliff. Be-Inua turned to Be-Elin. “Send the first flight down.” The dragon shouted out orders loud and clear. Down in the gorge, the few guards standing with the dummerholes looked up and saw four great dragons sail down from the cliff top, each carrying rocks in huge canvas bags. The dragons swooped down and dropped the rocks on the war dummerhole. It shrieked in surprise and pulled hard at its chains, sending the guards scattering.

  “Again,” Be-Inua told Be-Elin, and she shouted out a second time.

  A second wave of dragons swooped down, dropping their rocks with deadly accuracy. The dummerhole became furious and wrenched hard at his chains breaking them from their anchors. The other dummerhole bleated in fright and cowered away from the war beast, crushing two guards against the wall.

  “Once again,” Be-Inua said, without emotion, burying the sick feeling she felt at the sight of the huge, once proud callistons.

  “Johnson, stop!” Rusty turned around to face her brother.

  “We have to move,” he said to her.

  “Behind that door!” She pointed wildly. “The other slaves!”

  “Other slaves?”

  “Yes, we could hear them. We have to get them out!”

  “We can’t, we have no way to carry more!”’

  “We have to give them a chance.”

  Farthing looked up the corridor where Weasel, Eofin and Gellin were fighting more guards in a bloody struggle.

  “Alright, sis.” He put Pree down on the ground, then braced himself and rammed into the door. It took him three attempts and his shoulder was shot through with pain, but it opened. He was greeted by a room full of slaves, clothed, more or less, but blinking in the light. They were filthy.

  “You are free,” he shouted. “Get out of here!” The slaves rushed out and ran down to the Kitchen and to the door that led out into the Gorge. He tried to tell them to go the other way, but they ignored him. He shook his head in frustration and picked up Pree again.

  “Farthing, come on!” Eofin shouted from up by the back door.

  “Go!” Farthing yelled at his sister, and he followed her up the corridor and out through the door, kicking it shut behind him. When he stopped, his sister turned and just threw her arms around him.

  “Up here!” The others had started to climb up. Farthing pulled himself free of Rusty, wrapped the blankets tightly around Pree like swaddling a child, and passed her up to Eofin who was reaching down. He then turned to his sister.

  “Up on my shoulders, sis,” he said. She knew exactly what to do as they had been doing this since they were kids, sneaking in and out of their building when they were not meant to. She grabbed his hand, put a foot on his leg and leapt up onto his shoulders. Eofin put his hand down and she grabbed it and swung herself up. The fighter jumped back in surprise at how neat the manoeuvre had been.

  “Farthing, now you!” Gellin called down to Farthing. The young man took a few steps back to jump up when a guard burst out through the door, sword first. It went straight through Farthing’s leg crippling him immediately.

  “No!” Rusty shouted. Gellin didn’t hesitate. He pulled his knife out and threw it at the guard, straight into his neck, killing him instantly. Farthing was rolling on the ground in agony. He looked up at his friends on the ledge.

  “Get my sister out of here!” he yelled in pain. “Get her out!”

  Weasel grabbed Rusty. “We will save him, I promise, but we must get you and Precious up onto the roof first.”

  “Why the roof?”

  “Because that is the only way out of here!” He pushed her towards Gellin, who shunted her up to the next ledge.

  The dragons watched as the grisly scene below unfolded. The war dummerhole had gone berserk and was killing everything it could. The second dummerhole, panicked by the noise and commotion had broken free of his chains, and the massive beast was cowering against the wall of the gorge. Then the kitchen door was thrown open and a large group of frightened people piled out. The dragons peered over the cliff edge trying to make out who they were.

  “Slaves,” Lilygwin said, in her clipped voice. The small Draig Wen had crept up between Be-Inua’s legs. “They are more slaves. See how they are dressed? Guards do not dress so badly.”

  “They’ll be crushed,” Be-Elin said. She looked around trying to see a way out for the people below. “Lily, can you communicate with that dummerhole? The frightened one?”

  “Yes, I think I can.”

  “Calm him down and tell him to walk down the gorge slowly and quietly.”

  “I will try. That is very complicated.” The small, flightless dragon lay down and closed her eyes.

  “Be-Inua, we need to push the war dummerhole back towards the hall so the slaves can reach the other one. They can then ride it to safety.”

  Be-Inua nodded in understanding. “I will get rocks. You look out for the others.” She called to the other dragons and the nine of them grabbed up huge boulders and dived down at the crazed beast, driving it back onto its haunches and turning it away from the slaves. The slaves had stopped at the bottom of the steps, unsure what to do, but Be-Inua turned from her run and landed in front of them.

  “Run to the beast. Get onto its back. Now!” With nowhere else to go, the slaves ran down the gorge and scrambled up the slowly walking Dummerhole. As the last of them made it up, so Lily told the beast to take them to safety. She gently caressed his mind and thanked him, telling him to find his home and live in peace. He called once, in the manner of the callistons, unable to talk as he had lost that skill when his brain had been mutilated, and he ran down the gorge, the frightened slaves hanging on for their lives.

  “Inua!” Be-Elin called out. She pointed to the roof of the hall where the others had appeared. At the same time, just below them, a large group of guards and a tall, well-dressed man came storming out onto the veranda. They heard the dragon call and they span around to see the fleeing girls on the roof.

  “Get them!” the tall man shouted, and his men started to climb up onto the roof. Be-Elin didn’t wait for the other dragons, but threw herself off the cliff and dived towards the men. The other dragons had flown up and out of the gorge and were now high overhead, but they soon started diving back down. The dragon saw the first guard pull himself onto the roof and she put her sharp talons out in front of her and ripped him apart. The other men fell back off the roof while the tall man, obviously Tekkinmod, yelled at them.

  Be-Inua came in next, grabbing another guard and throwing him down into the gorge. The next two dragons swept in and landed on the roof. From their backs leapt the other two riders who grabbed up the unconscious Precious and carried her onto the first dragon, the rider sitting down quickly, holding the girl across in front of her. The dragon ran off the roof and flew up to the safety of the cliff.

  “Go!” shouted Eofin to Rusty.

  “Johnson!”

  “We will get him. Go!” The other rider grabbed her and bundled her up onto the dragon, and they left for the cliff. Be-Elin came crashing down onto the roof. The guards had bows, and arrows were beginning to fly. She shouted in pain as one drove deeply into her leg.

  “Where is Farthing?” she said, looking round.

  “Down there!” Weasel shouted, pointing to the far end of the building. “Down in the gorge. He is wounded.” Be-Inua landed and saw the blood running down Be-Elin’s leg. The wound was far worse than it first seemed.

  “You are hurt,” she said. “You must get up to the cliff.”

 
“No,” Be-Elin snapped. “Johnson Farthing is my rider!” She thundered down the roof of the building in three huge paces and threw herself off the end.

  “We must go now,” Be-Inua told the others as more arrows flew around them, despite the hail of rocks coming from the sky. “I will carry all of you.”

  “What about Be-Elin and Farthing?” Weasel cried out.

  “She will protect him,” she said, quietly cursing the rashness of the young dragon. Eofin pushed Weasel up onto Be-Inua and leapt on after him, Gellin jumping up behind. The desert dragon ran off the roof and headed down the gorge, flapping hard to gain height with the three men on her back and, at last, made it to the cliff. At the top, she landed to be greeted by the small white dragon.

  “The girl, the one in the blankets,” Lily said. “She is near death; you must go now. Eafa can look after her, but you must rush.”

  “Farthing has been hurt and so has Be-Elin,” she told Lily.

  “Go. I will stay for them, but go!”

  Weasel was checking on Precious with Rusty hovering over him, still wrapped in his robe.

  “She is bad,” he told Eofin. “I must take her now.” Eofin signalled the other dragons over.

  “Half of you, take Eafa and the two women to the Abbey. High and fast. The rest of you, keep those men busy!”

  The rider who had brought Rusty up to the cliff grabbed the girl and put her onto his dragon. Weasel picked up Precious and just ran straight up the tail of Mab-Abin, making the dragon turn his head around in surprise.

  “My apologies, great one,” the magician said. “But I have been riding dragons since before you were born; I know where to tread. You can beat me up later, but now we need to go.”

  The dragon roared with laughter. “For the famous Eafa? I will fly you anywhere.” And the dragon leapt into the sky.

  Be-Elin skidded off the end of the roof and put out her wings to slow herself down. Below, another guard was charging at Farthing. The dragon picked the man up in her mouth and threw him at the cliff wall, smashing him dead. She crashed down next to Farthing, her leg giving way beneath her.

  “Climb on my back, Farthing,” she said, breathlessly, the pain making her gasp.

  “I cannot stand.”

  “Climb on my back, rider! I cannot help you.” She was becoming weaker and losing blood too quickly. Farthing pushed himself up with his club and dragged himself up onto the dragon. She heaved herself upright and jumped into the air as high as she could, slapping her wings downward. Be-Elin flew painfully up the gorge amidst a storm of arrows, cheered on by the calls of the other dragons who rained stony hell onto the guards below. The desert dragon shuddered as three more arrows buried into her flesh. She fought with all her strength, flapping higher until she was above the gorge, and then glided down to the cliff top, crashing in a heap, Farthing falling off her back and landing on the hard rock, screaming in agony. Eofin rushed over; both of them were losing blood.

  “I will never get them back!” he shouted at the small Draig Wen. “I have failed them!”

  “Be calm, Eofin. This is mine to deal with. Go.” The man hesitated. “Go,” the small dragon repeated. “If you leave, they below will think we have all gone and that will give me the time I need. You must go. Else they will hunt up here.”

  The desert warrior shook himself. The small dragon spoke perfect sense and he should have seen it for himself. “What will you do?”

  “I will sing for Bell-Sendinar.” Lily comforted her two dying charges as the rest of the dragons took off from the cliff, making as much noise as possible so Tekkinmod and his men could see them all leave. And indeed, within seconds, the arrows stopped. Lily sat on the ground, covered her eyes, and in a very soft voice began to sing.

  Secan yrmr ir

  Min garad

  Ire cryfen tir

  Ar chr cyrm

  Seek me here

  My love

  Our strength together

  For you I cry

  Mistry was sitting leaning against Fren-Eirol. She had not slept at all, and now it was dawn.

  “They will be rescuing the girls now,” Fren-Eirol said quietly.

  “I know, but it will take them the whole day to get back. I can’t bear it.”

  Fren-Eirol desperately wanted to say something motherly and comforting, but she too was worried. “Neither can I, child,” she said.

  Suddenly, from behind the tent, Bell-Sendinar sat up. Raising his head high, he trumpeted a deafening, mournful call. He stood, and raising his wings the width of the entire garden, leapt into the air, and flew high up into the sky. Mistry stood up and watched him go.

  “Fren-Eirol?” she said, her voice shaking. The sea dragon pushed herself up and staggered out from the tent, looking up as the black dragon disappeared from sight.

  “Something has gone wrong, Mistry.”

  Lily pushed at Farthing’s body with her mind. The man was barely hanging onto consciousness. Be-Elin had already lapsed into a coma. She whispered to the young human, caressed his face, and gave him a little strength, something so very difficult for her to do with someone who was not a dragon.

  “You must climb onto her back, Farthing,” she told him.

  “She is unconscious,” he muttered.

  “You still must do it.”

  Farthing pulled himself over and with the help of the Draig Wen, clambered painfully onto the back of the big desert dragon and collapsed face down on the hides. Lily jumped up after him and pulled at the oothen hide, freeing some of the leather straps. She then bound the man tightly to the dragon and lay down next to him.

  “Sleep human,” she said, and at the same time reached out to the dragon and caressed her gently. There was very little life left in her, but there was some; it had to be enough.

  “What the hell happened?” Tekkinmod shouted, pinning one of the guards against the wall by the neck, then let the confused man fall. He turned to his second who was just emerging from the lower floors. “I want those girls back and I want the heads of those who stole them!” he shouted.

  “What about the other slaves?”

  “Forget them, Retton. The girls are worth ten times all those put together.”

  Retton put his hands up in confusion. “Where the hell do I start?”

  Tekkinmod stared at the man. His second was the best hunter in the ices, but he knew nothing much about anything south of the ridge. But a hunter is a hunter, wherever they are. “Well, they were taken from Redust, so I suspect that is where they will be headed, don’t you? That would be that way!” He pointed west out of the door of his top-floor apartment which now had a hole in the roof where a dragon had dropped a boulder. Suddenly the sky went black and Tekkinmod rushed outside. “What is that?”

  Above him, filling the sky, was Bell-Sendinar. He swooped down and grabbed something from the top of the cliff in his huge claws and flew straight back into the sky. Tekkinmod swore.

  “What has that bloody cousin of mine got me into?” He looked down the gorge and frowned, then looked up the other way to where the gorge narrowed and turned out of sight to a dead end. Then he turned to his men standing nervously behind him.

  “What the hell happened to my dummerholes?”

  Farthing woke slowly to feel a soft hand on his face. He opened his eyes and immediately regretted it when both his head and his leg began to pound.

  “Shush, relax, Johnson. You are safe.” The voice caressed and eased him like no other could. “And I am safe too.” Farthing smiled and then very slowly, passed out again.

  Farthing sat up with a start and grabbed his stomach. He felt sick. Very sick. Very, Very sick.

  “Mab-Tok!” he roared, just managing to stop himself throwing up. Mistry came running in, laughing and threw her arms around him. She kissed him about thirty times until he had to push her away to get his breath. Behind her, Farthing’s sister came in slo
wly, supporting a young woman that could have almost been her twin. Mistry left the bed and moved to the side of the room and sat quietly on a chair. Pree sat down carefully on the edge of the bed while Rusty collapsed into Farthing’s arms. The brother and sister wept together in relief.

  “This is Pree,” Rusty said a few minutes later. “Precious Hearting, the Prelate’s daughter.” Farthing nodded formally to the girl.

  “What do I call you?” he asked. He was a hole digger and dirt shifter, what did he know about Prelates and their daughters? The girl stood, made her way painfully closer, sat down next to him and kissed him.

  “You have just saved my life,” she said in a weak, shaky voice. “What do I call you?” The tears trickled down her face.

  He blinked. “My name is Farthing, Johnson Farthing. Call me Farthing I suppose.” He looked into her eyes and almost felt he knew her.

  “And you can call me Pree and friend,” she said softly, looking around the room at Farthing, Mistry and her friend Rusty with a timid smile. Farthing pulled himself away from the green eyes of the Prelate’s daughter and noticed Mistry sitting quietly.

  “And this is,” he started, but Rusty beat him to it, grabbed Mistry by the hand, pulled her over to the bed and dumped her on it, leaping on after her.

  “My sister!” declared Rusty. Farthing opened his mouth in surprise. “Brother, you have been unconscious for two days and probably still would be if it were not for Mab-Tok. I have had the whole story.” Her smile faded and she squeezed Mistry’s hand then brightened herself up again. “And she is absolutely coming back with us.” Farthing grinned. “But it is more complicated than you realise.”

  “How?” Farthing was getting tired of playing catch-up all the time.

  “She will tell you later. Girls, out of here!” Sen-Liana was obviously not suffering from her knees today, and she shooed the three girls gently out of the room, Mistry and Rusty helping the fragile Pree. Farthing took the proffered glass of cool spring water from the old woman and drank it with relief; it took away some of the taste of Mab-Tok’s vile medicine. Farthing looked up at Weasel’s mother.

  “What happened? I remember getting skewered by a guard and then Be-Elin and then … Be-Elin! Is she alright?”

  “She is with Fren-Eirol. She is badly hurt. First, by several arrows, and then by crashing into the cliff. She was hurt a little more when Bell-Sendinar picked her up in his talons. He saved her, but he nearly crushed her in the process.”

  Something else was nagging at his mind. “Lily?”

  “She is here too and she is fine. She is a strange one. She has done something I have never heard of before.”

  “What is that?”

  “She has decided to leave Bell-Sendinar,” Sen-Liana said. Farthing looked puzzled. “I don’t fully understand the relationship between the black dragons and the white, but they live their lives together, very tightly bound. It is why we sometimes call the female Draig Wen the wives of the black dragons, though they find that funny. Lily, as she calls herself, has always been different. She has learned our language fluently, and she helps around the abbey. The garden is much of her doing. Well, whatever is different, she is now going to break the bond with Bell-Sendinar and leave.”

  “Where is she going to go?”

  “With you, apparently.”

  “What?”

  Sen-Liana took the glass and walked from the room, laughing. “Dinner is in an hour. You must eat. There is a walking stick by your bed. Be careful of your leg; that was an appalling wound.”

  Farthing managed to stagger down to the garden once Sen-Liana had left his room, and he found himself wrapped tightly in the arms of Fren-Eirol. Then he hugged Be-Elin around her head and whispered his thanks to her for saving him. She was painfully weak and lying flat next to the sea dragon. Neither of them would be going anywhere for some time yet.

  Dinner might have been in the grand upstairs library, but it was an informal affair and most did not sit at the dining table. Eofin and Gellin were the only riders still at the Abbey. The rest had headed south and were then cutting across Bind to return to the Eastern Plains. They should have flown straight across Great Plains, but a huge storm had built up as they returned from Wessen.

  “These plain’s storms rage for days, sometimes a couple of weeks`,” Eofin explained to Farthing, who was behind on the news. “Tekkinmod will be stuck in his gorge unable to move.”

  “What about the Dummerholes?”

  “The war beast ran up the gorge,” Eofin said sadly. “We enraged him as planned, but he became completely maddened and fell into a fit. One of the dragons dropped a gigantic boulder on his head to kill him in the end. It is very sad.”

  “And the other? Will Tekkinmod use that to chase us? I am assuming he is not just going to let us go.”

  “No, I think it is certain that he will come after you, but it is going to be at a normal pace. Lily has managed to put some new ideas about freedom and home into the head of the other dummerhole. She has not made him complete again, but he was last seen just about galloping across Great Plains with a lot of very scared looking slaves on his back.” Eofin laughed out loud. “I have no idea where they will end up or even how the slaves are going to get off, but I suspect they all have a very interesting life ahead of them.”

  “When are you heading to the Sand Hills?”

  “I am going to check on the storm in the morning, though I think this is one of the worst for years, which is a good thing, and then I am heading off south. I also want to say goodbye to Be-Elin. She is very ill and we do not even know whether she will survive, let alone fly again.” The man looked crestfallen. These dragons were family to him.

  “That is my fault, Eofin. I was careless and she risked it all for me.”

  “No, Farthing!” Eofin grabbed his arm. “You are now her rider. She told us that when she came looking for you; though I have never heard of a dragon making a choice so quickly. She made you one of us, and we lay our lives down for each other. I saw you. You were going to sacrifice yourself for those girls. Do not blame yourself for Be-Elin doing the same for you!” The rest of the room had fallen silent because Eofin had raised his voice more than he had intended. Weasel walked over and stood by them. He chewed his lip and turned to look at the rest of the room.

  “Wallowing in our brave deeds is a beautiful thing to do, but we have two problems and we are stuck between them. So, if you don’t mind, I am going to bring Farthing up to date and tell the rest of you what we need to do.” Weasel was pulling rank as much as he could as the second eldest in the room. Sen-Liana, the eldest, smiled, lowered herself into a chair at the table and let him have his moment.

  “We have two girls here who have been rescued from the governor of a province of Wessen, one of the richest countries on Bind. From what I have been told, taking these red-headed girls, who are seen as a talisman of good fortune, is much the same as stealing the crown jewels. He will come after us, and he will not be messing around when he does. He will want the girls back and he will want us all dead. We have a couple of advantages. He has no idea about this Abbey, and since the old pass is long since overgrown and collapsed, unless he has a dragon, he is not going to find out about it. We will make sure word gets out about the Dummerholes and no dragon will go near him, not that I think any would anyway. There is also a storm raging which will have trapped him in his gorge, so that buys us time, but it will end and he will come after us. He is not stupid, and he knows where we’re going.

  “Now, back in Redust, we have another problem of which we were ignorant of till we rescued Precious and Rusty. We were reasonably confident the kidnap was an inside job since someone must have arranged for Rusty to be in the room with Precious at the right time so two young redheads were in the catch. It is also likely that the inside man was the Prelate himself.”

  Farthing sat bolt upright in his chair. “How d
o we know that?” he asked in amazement. Weasel pointed to Pree.

  “Because, Johnson,” she said with a sad face, “Tekkinmod is my father’s cousin.” Farthing’s mouth fell open. “Sorry,” she corrected. “I meant my ex-father’s cousin.” She turned away quickly to hide a tear. Everyone apart from Farthing had already heard this news, but the hurt that laced through the girl’s words hit all of them hard. Farthing pulled himself upright, grabbed his stick and limped over to where the girl stood, her back turned towards the room.

  “Precious,” he started, then changed his mind and put his hand on her shoulder. “Pree,” he said. “What are you going to do?”

  She turned and looked at him. “I am going back to face him.” She was openly crying now. “I am not going to let him get away with this; I refuse to.”

  He looked down at her and understood. “No, Pree, you are right. He is not going to get away with this.” The room waited in silence, and when Farthing spoke again it was directly to Weasel.

  “Well, magician,” he said. “You got us this far and have rescued my sister, which, quite honestly, I did not think you were capable of doing. I only went along with this in the beginning because I had no other way of getting here, and I was desperate. I thought your abilities were a lie, and I didn’t trust you as far as I could throw you.” Weasel looked at the floor, he didn’t dare look at Farthing’s face.

  “Well, I was wrong. You not only have pulled it off, but you have become a friend. And you and Fren-Eirol have shown me time and time again not just the value of friendship, but of bravery and of years and years of wisdom. I cannot think of anyone in this world I would trust more than the two of you. So, Eafa, help me; help us. What do I do? What is our next move?”

  The magician, so old of heart pulled at his robe and bit his lip and squinted a little. Then he raised his head and looked at the boy who in just a few weeks had turned into the man.

  “Well, first of all, we have to get ourselves back to Taken. And then, I need to get up on that hill and speak to the last person I ever thought I would need to turn to for help, and, perhaps, remind some stubborn old fools who they are meant to be.” He looked around the room at the faces of this small group. Farthing, Eofin, Mistry, Mab-Tok, Sen-Liana, Rusty, Precious Hearting, Mab-Lotok, Gellin and Lily. And he suddenly thought of the one face he needed to see more than any other.

  “If you will excuse me, I need to talk to an old friend.” And Eafa, The Doomed Weasel of Tepid Lakes, fled the room.