Tomaaz took her hand, his fingers like icicles, but nothing compared to the icy shivers that ran down her arms. “It’s Roberto, isn’t it?” Adelina squeaked, throat tight.
Tomaaz nodded. “Zens has captured him. I’m sorry.”
The room seemed to still. Tomaaz continued talking, explaining how her brother had been captured, but his voice was muffled, far away, as if someone had stuffed Adelina’s ears with sheep wool. Her mind spun. Roberto. With Zens again. Zens would be doubly vigilant this time—and four times as mean. Roberto already had enough scars from Death Valley. How could her brother survive? She stood, feet like lumps of wood, and walked to the door.
“Adelina, shall I come with you?” Lovina asked, rising.
Shaking her head, she fled into the corridor, Tomaaz’s protests echoing along the rock walls.
Adelina ran to Roberto’s cavern. Here, she’d find comfort. Here, she’d find Erob. She dashed through to Erob’s den. It was empty. “No, not Erob, too,” she gasped.
Adelina sank to the stone. For years, she’d dammed up sorrow, putting a bright face on life. Through her father’s betrayal, through him selling Roberto out to Zens and causing her mother’s death, she’d tried hard to be cheerful for Roberto’s sake. He’d borne the brunt of their father’s treachery and it had broken him. But he had been her mainstay, and now, he was gone. Hugging her knees and burying her head in her arms, she let her tears come.
§
Despite him calling after her, Adelina had fled. Tomaaz stood in the doorway, staring down the tunnel. Should he follow her?
A gentle hand rested on his arm. “She needs time, Tomaaz, just like I’d need time if it was you who hadn’t come back.” Lovina’s cornflower-blue eyes looked up at him.
He nodded. He’d talk to Adelina later. He stepped back inside.
Lovina had changed in the six weeks he’d been gone: her face had almost lost that gaunt haunted look; her skin glowed; and her hair was glossy and healthy.
“Do you mind?” he whispered, his hand hovering above her hair.
She closed her eyes and flung her arms around him, and he ran his hand over her hair, her back and then hugged her—the way he’d dreamed of hugging her every day he’d been in Death Valley. Her hair had a floral scent, and her body was warm against his. He’d been cold for weeks. Blankets in Death Valley had always been thin, and although it wasn’t snowy like here, the nights had been bitterly cold and much of the valley shrouded in shadow, even during the day.
Lovina’s back trembled under his hands, then shook. She was sobbing.
He pulled back, and tilted her chin. “Lovina?”
“I’m great,” she said between sobs. “I couldn’t be better. I’m just so glad you’re home.”
He pulled her back into his arms, rubbing his cheek on the top of her head. He’d never thought of anywhere except Lush Valley as home, but she was right—Dragons’ Hold was his new home. Now that he’d imprinted with Maazini, it was the best place for him to live, but what about her? “Lovina, is this your home too?” he murmured.
Through tear-filled eyes, she smiled. “Yes, Tomaaz, it’s my home too.”
“Then why are you crying?” He stroked her cheek.
“I had the most terrible dreams for the last five nights. Always the same. You were trapped under a landslide with tharuks swarming down a hill toward you. I’m so glad they’re not true. So glad you’re safe.” She sniffed. “And when I paint, the pictures come out the same as my dreams—you injured, lying under rocks.”
So, they were tears of relief. “Five nights?” It was five days’ flight to Death Valley. “Lovina, your dreams were true. I was trapped under some boulders five days ago, but Maazini freed me.”
“And you weren’t hurt?”
“Ma healed me. My hip was shattered.” Tomaaz tilted his head. There was more to her than met the eye, but then, he already knew that. “You might have the gift of prophecy.”
“Me?” Her eyes flew wide.
“It’s possible. You dreamed of something that happened. You should talk to Pa. He has visions and dreams too. His dragon Handel does as well.”
Lovina pulled his arm, leading him toward Adelina’s couch, but he resisted. “Lovina, there’s something I have to tell you.”
“What is it?”
“I’m not here for long. I have to go back and help Ezaara and Pa find Erob. He’s wounded and can’t fly.”
“Erob?” Adelina’s voice came from behind them. “Erob’s wounded? Where is he?”
“Near Great Spanglewood Forest,” Tomaaz replied, turning to face her.
“Oh, that’s only a day’s flight away. Good.” Although her eyes were red-rimmed, Adelina had an overly-bright smile stuck on her face.
“It’s further,” Tomaaz said. “He’s on the other side of the forest, near Death Valley.”
“I don’t care how far it is. I’m coming too,” Adelina said stubbornly. “No one’s going to rescue Erob without me. My brother’s dragon is the only reason I’m alive. My father would’ve given me to Zens too, if it hadn’t been for Erob. He hid me in a cave while he freed Roberto from Death Valley.”
Tomaaz nodded. “Roberto and Erob both care about you. Roberto made me promise I’d look after you if anything happened to him.”
“If he cares about me that much, he can just sharding-well come home, then, can’t he?” Despite Adelina’s brave words, her bottom lip trembled.
Lovina hugged her. “Do you want me to stay with you?”
Adelina waved her off. “No, I’m fine. I have things to do.”
She was anything but fine, but she shooed them out the door. As they left Adelina’s cavern and walked along the tunnels to his family’s quarters, Lovina slipped her hand into Tomaaz’s. It felt so natural and right. He smiled at her. “Your arm’s not splinted anymore. How’s it feeling?” Her bruises had also faded and her cuts had healed.
“A lot better. Marlies has given me exercises to strengthen it.”
Every time he looked at her, wonder bubbled inside him. “What about your drawing? Have you done any more pictures?”
She ducked her head and blushed. “A few.”
“Can I see them?” He could hardly wait. Looking at Lovina’s art was like seeing a hidden landscape within her.
Her face grew even redder. “I, ah … well, some might be of you.”
Oh. He hadn’t expected that. Tomaaz chuckled, trying to put her at ease. “Only some? I was hoping they all were.”
That made her grin. He squeezed her hand, and they approached his cavern. He hesitated. Lovina hung back too. Eyes locked, they spoke at the same time.
“Do you mind if—”
“Is it all right—”
They laughed nervously.
Tomaaz slipped an arm around her waist and touched his lips to her hair, then pulled closer. “I don’t mind at all,” he whispered.
Her eyes roamed his face and fell to his lips. Her breath caressed his cheek as he leaned down. And as his lips touched hers, Lovina gave a tiny gasp—the sweetest sound Tomaaz had ever heard.
Then they were kissing. That same wonder bubbled up inside him, like a glorious secret bursting into the sunlight. This was home. This woman, right here, was where he belonged.
Tomaaz drew back to look at Lovina. She was still so physically fragile, yet so strong to have survived Zens’ slave camp and years as Old Bill’s slave. Abused and drugged by Bill, she’d hidden behind a drab curtain of lank hair, tatty clothes and been dazed by numlock. She’d barely spoken a handful of words in the years he’d known her. Until he’d helped her escape Bill’s clutches. Then, little by little, he’d grown to know her. His heart stuttered when he thought of how hard her life had been, how lucky he was to have her, how easily she could’ve been killed. “Lovina, you’re so beautiful. I …” He shook his head staring at her, unsure of what he wanted to say. “I, uh, I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”
“Neither have I.” Her cor
nflower eyes caressed his face, then she frowned.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m remembering you, so if Zens catches you when you’re rescuing Erob, at least I’ll have my memories.”
He hugged her again, fiercely. “No. I won’t let Zens ever separate us. I’ll be back. I’m coming home to you.”
They entered Tomaaz’s family’s cavern, next to the infirmary.
“Hello, Lovina.” Pa embraced him. “Son, well done, getting home. Lars has told me to let you rest for a few hours and that we’ll head out at dusk. I guess you’ll want to see the boy?”
Tomaaz nodded. “How’s he been?”
“Still has broken sleep.” Pa shrugged. “Not much we can do about that, but your mother’s trying her best. I’ve taken him out on Handel a few times, and he seems to like that, not that he’s spoken yet.”
“Even after all these weeks?”
“He’s still mute,” Lovina said. “I’ve spent quite a bit of time with him while you’ve been gone.”
Pa nodded. “You’ve done a great job, Lovina.” He gestured through their caverns toward the mountainside. “He’s out on the ledge with Handel now.”
Lovina hung back, hesitating.
“Come on.” Tomaaz took her hand and they walked past the two smaller sleeping caverns, through the living chamber, to the ledge outside.
The boy was resting against Handel, eyes closed, the wan sunlight bathing his features, an arm flung over Handel’s foreleg.
While they were in the council meeting, Maazini must’ve flown the short distance here, because there was a hillock of orange scales beyond Handel’s tail. Tomaaz melded, but Maazini was sleeping too deeply to rouse.
As they approached, the boy’s eyes flew open, and he threw his arms up protectively, as if someone was about to beat him.
“It’s all right. It’s just Tomaaz. He’s come home to see you,” Lovina crooned, slowing her pace.
The boy’s eyes widened. He scrambled to his feet and shot toward Tomaaz, like an arrow to a target. Flinging his scrawny arms around Tomaaz’s ribs, he burrowed his head into Tomaaz’s midriff.
“Whoa,” Tomaaz said, ruffling his hair. “I’m glad to see you too, buddy.” He hoisted him up off his feet and hugged him, then he strode over to Handel, placing a hand on his warm scales so he could mind-meld. “He seems to like you. Are you all right for us to sit here too?”
“Sure, Tomaaz. Welcome back to Dragons’ Hold.” Handel lowered his neck, his keen green eyes regarding him.
He and Lovina sat, leaning against Handel’s back. Tomaaz cradled the boy on his lap, keeping his voice low as he spoke to him. “I’m so glad to see you. I know I’ve been gone a while and you must’ve been worrying about whether I’d come back. I’m home now.”
Tentatively, the boy reached his palm up to Tomaaz’s face and cupped his cheek.
Lovina sucked her breath in. “That’s the first time he’s done that,” she said.
“You know you’re safe with us, don’t you?” Tomaaz asked. The memory of the boy’s beaten and bloody back flashed to mind. He’d been so frail and light, lifting him had been less effort than carrying a small sack of carrots as Tomaaz had smuggled him out of the slave’s sleeping quarters, past tharuks, to the cave where Maazini had been held captive. And now he had to rescue another dragon. “You know how we saved the orange dragon, Maazini?”
The boy nodded.
“Well, there’s a blue dragon, Erob, who’s been injured by tharuks, just like you were. I know I’ve just returned, but I need to help save him, so I’ll be leaving again soon.”
The boy shook his head, his hands clutching at Tomaaz’s clothes.
Tomaaz hugged him tight again, gazing at Lovina over the boy’s head. “I’m sorry, buddy. I have to go again, but I’ll be back.”
His whole life had become one long series of farewells and danger.
Wizardry
The chill seeped through Fenni’s breeches, slowly making his backside numb. He’d thought his folded cloak would combat the cold, but he’d been here so long the snow had penetrated the thick layers. Trying again, he held his hands a body-width apart, green sparks flitting between them. His brow furrowed in concentration as he drew his palms apart. Bright green sparks flew from hand to hand. Fenni smiled. Just a little wider now. He pulled his hands further apart. With a fizzle, the sparks died, leaving him with nothing but air between his palms—and cold air at that.
Dragon’s manky breath! What would it take to get this right? He kicked a clump of snow onto the thin layer of ice coating the stream below. The ice broke with a satisfying crack. He held up his hands again.
Snow or no snow, he would not give in. He was never going to pass wizard training and be able to battle tharuks if he couldn’t master fire. His uncle’s dead face haunted him—he’d been mauled by tharuks and his death had been ugly. Fenni had vowed to become a mage and avenge him, but the last wizard trials had been a catastrophe. Every other first-year wizard had conjured fireballs except him. Sure, he’d been good with other elements, like wind and water, but he had to control flames too—and real green wizard flames, not just lousy sparks. Wind and water wouldn’t kill a tharuk.
Hands apart, he tried again. Sweat rolled off his brow as a thick cord of sparks flowed between his palms. This was much better. He willed the sparks to grow, focusing his mind as his wizard master had taught, although that never usually worked for him. When his hands were as wide as he could hold them, he pushed them inward, trying to compress the sparks into a flame.
He let out a gasp as a burst of fire shot out of his fingers, forming a fireball that roiled between his hands, tongues of green wizard flame licking hungrily at the chilly winter air.
“Ha, ha. I’ve done it!” Fenni crowed. “Now, Master Giddi will be proud of me.”
“Will I?” came the austere voice of his master.
The fireball shrunk and zipped over Fenni’s shoulder, shooting into the master mage’s outstretched hand. Master Giddi extinguished it with his long bony fingers.
Fenni gulped. His secret was out. “That wasn’t me, was it?” he asked.
“No, that wasn’t you, Fenni.” Master Giddi raised one of his bushy eyebrows—the ones everyone likened to hairy caterpillars. “But you’re close.”
No closer than he was nine moons ago. Fenni hadn’t deliberately told any lies, just left out the details, and always insisted on practicing alone. He rose to his feet, shaking off his cloak, and kicked some snow at a tree trunk.
Those hairy caterpillars now pulled down into a thunderous scowl. Master Giddi’s voice was deadly quiet, almost sinister. “So, all these moons when you’ve been practicing fire, you haven’t even made a flame?”
“A tiny burst or two.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Giddi thundered. “I could’ve helped you. Fool. Now the mage trials are upon us in a few days and you’re not ready.”
“A few days? But spring equinox is three months away.”
Master Giddi pursed his lips, the familiar sign that a lecture was coming. “Not any more. I just got a messenger bird, so I was coming to tell you the news. With war looming, the Wizard Council’s moved the trials to winter solstice. We need everyone qualified to fight tharuks. We’re leaving for Mage Gate at first light tomorrow.” Master Giddi pointed at Fenni, sparks dripping from his fingers. “You’ve wasted nine moons of your training. You led me to believe your fire skills were fine.” He spat in the snow. “I thought by now you’d be conjuring up walls of flame, or even a fire dragon. That you’d have something worthwhile to show for all those hours.” Master Giddi’s sparks coalesced into a plume of flame. “Do you know what your biggest weakness is?”
“My fire skills.” Fenni sighed. It was out now. Soon, everyone would know.
“No, it’s your pride. You worry too much about what others think.”
Shame washed over Fenni. He’d been embarrassed about his lack of skills, but it was nothing to how he felt now
.
“So, now that you’re ready to learn, hold your hands out and close your eyes. Cast out your consciousness. Sense the forest around you,” Master Giddi said, as if Fenni was a littling, not nearly eighteen summers old.
Fenni thrust his senses out. Cold feet, rustling leaves …
“Feel the energy in the core of your being, right down through your feet, connecting with the earth. Sense each tree; the forest as a whole; how everything vibrates with nature’s energy. When you feel that familiar hum of sathir …”
Fenni opened his eyes. He hadn’t ever told anyone, but he’d never felt the hum that everyone talked about.
The wizard cocked a bushy eyebrow at Fenni and stared at him for a long moment before saying, “That doesn’t work for you, does it?”
“Feeling nature’s energy? No, it doesn’t. Never has.”
“You told me you’d mastered it privately. Why in the Egg’s name didn’t you say something earlier?” Master Giddi snapped. “Stretch a hand out.”
Fenni sighed. “With all due respect, Master Giddi, I don’t see how—”
“Quiet.” The master mage’s voice was soft, but, as usual, held power.
Fenni obeyed, holding a hand up, flinching as Master Giddi touched his freezing little finger with his bony forefinger.
“Feel that?”
Fenni’s finger was buzzing. “Yes, I do,” he said. Amazing, it was like a hive of bees in his fingertip.
“And this?”
A vibration traveled down his finger into his hand, making his palm tingle too. “Incredible. How did you do that?”
“Now …” The master mage lifted his finger into the air and Fenni’s finger was pulled up, as if they were attached, until his arm was stretched high. Giddi curled his own fingers into his palm and put them in his cloak pockets.
Lucky for some, keeping their hands warm.
“Now, close your eyes again and sense the forest,” Master Giddi said.
The air around Fenni’s fingers seemed to pulse with life. Weird. Is that what other mages felt? He forced his senses out further, and bit by bit, the hum of the earth vibrated through him. Energy radiated from the strongwood trees, making his skin hum. A creature lumbered through the forest nearby and a surge rushed through him. Fenni snapped his eyes open and let out a whoop. “I can do it. I can feel sathir.”
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