AutumnQuest (17 page)

“Their spells weave a net above the arena that the dragons can’t break.” He grinned. “New dragons learn quickly.”

I turned away from him in distaste. Another gong, followed immediately by another ringing blast of the trumpets.

I struggled to my feet, refusing Lang’s offer of a helping hand. I didn’t want him to touch me.

A hush spread over the crowd. Even from this distance, I could hear the door clang open. Another man stepped onto the field. Completely naked and weaponless, young and shaven. Breyard.

Lang whispered, “Less than three minutes,” and licked his lips.

Then the gate opposite clanged open, and another dragon came onto the field. A red dragon. Xyla.

The Candles

The Candlesticks

~from
The Book of Lore

For a moment, it seemed as if my heart stopped. I felt light-headed and had to grab Lang’s arm to keep from falling down.

He, however, didn’t seem to notice; he was far too involved in the thrill of seeing a
red
dragon.

It had been a brief instant after Xyla’s appearance before the crowd realized what they were seeing. Then a buzz of excited whispering swept around the arena. A red dragon! How had the king managed to acquire the legendary beast—and full grown at that? The glaze even seemed to disappear from Lang’s eyes.

The dragonmasters drew closer to the edges of the field, as if they anticipated trouble from the new dragon.

“Xyla!” my heart cried out to her.

She threw her head back and let out a scream. I knew that only I recognized the agony in that cry. Once again, the flock of birds swept around the arena, and this time, I recognized them as carrion birds. Breyard stepped backwards and glanced around as if for a place to hide. I couldn’t help it; I had to do something.

I pushed past the people in the row between me and the stairs. Lang’s shout of “No! Don’t move!” didn’t stop me. I raced down the steps, at one point going so fast that my feet almost went out from under me. Several times, hands reached out to grab me, but I always eluded their grasp. Finally, I reached field level.

“Xyla!” I screamed. She must have heard me through our connection, not with her ears, for despite the tumult of the crowd, she turned and looked straight at me.

“Donavah?” I barely heard her voice in the very back of my mind.

“Yes, Xyla. It’s me.”

“Donavah.” Her voice gained strength. “Donavah!”

She started to move towards me. But so had someone else—the nearest dragonmaster.

“Xyla! That’s Breyard. You can’t kill him!”

“It is Breyard?”

“Yes!” Now I saw another dragonmaster racing towards me from the opposite direction as the first.

“Xyla! Breyard!” I shrieked.

The dragon leapt high into the air, but fell back to the field in a ground-shaking crash when she struck the dragonmasters’ net. Many of the people in the stands cheered in delight.

Then, from a point on my right about a third of the way around the arena, a brilliant flash of scarlet light! It stopped the dragonmasters, who turned to look. Another flash, and it looked like red lightning shooting up into the sky. It hit the net of spells, broke into myriad strands, and disappeared.

Xyla must have understood what was happening, because she leapt again. She landed neatly in front of Breyard, snatched him in her jaws, and soared into the sky.

“Xyla! Don’t kill him!”

She launched herself a third time. From the black-robed figures all around the field, orange lightning shot towards her. But she was gone. Vanished into thin air.

Then a blinding flash of white light, and Xyla was back, soaring high into the sky. There seemed to be someone riding on her back, but I didn’t have time to wonder about that. At least she was free of the magic net and out of reach of the dragonmasters’ spells.

The magicians themselves turned their boiling fury onto me. Those nearest started towards me again, and I fled in the only direction I could: up the stairs.

This time, no one reached for me; everyone sat watching, as if immobilized.

My breath caught in my throat as I forced my legs to take another step up, and another, as the pounding of the men’s boots on the steps behind me got closer and closer.

At the top, I realized the folly of my decision, for there was nowhere else to go. I turned to face my foes.

The nearest dragonmaster was only ten steps below me, and a river of black robes poured up the stairs behind him. He raised both hands into the air, and time itself seemed to stand still. Only the birds moved, circling high above the arena.

The dragonmaster and I stared at each other, his dark brown eyes boring into me, as if he could read my very being. I shuddered.

The dragonmaster lowered his arms, reaching towards me, and the march of time resumed. I could almost see the power he gathered against me.

And in an instant, I knew there was only one escape for me.

I braced myself against the stone wall behind me, gathered every bit of strength I could muster, and released my plea to all living creatures within range.

“HELP ME!”

My mental cry rebounded off the stone bowl of the arena, amplifying in intensity. It froze the dragonmasters in their places.

The flock of carrion birds arrowed towards the magicians, while all manner of other birds appeared as if from thin air to add their cacophony to the confusion that began to run riot. I stood still a moment longer, gathering to myself the power—the maejic power—that sparked through the air.

Then I rushed down the stairs again. The dragonmasters fell before me, toppling over insensible as the power I wielded touched them. The roar of the crowd grew, and I pulled that energy into myself, too.

Reaching the bottom level, I leapt to the field, shouting aloud for Xyla. But she was already there waiting for me. Two figures sat astride her, one a young man dressed in brightly colored clothes, and the other . . . Traz!

“Here!” he shouted, stretching down his walking stick to me. I grabbed hold of it and practically flew up the dragon’s shoulder. I barely gotten seated behind Traz when Xyla was airborne again. Her wings beat, and in moments, we were far away from the arena.

But I couldn’t keep my thoughts focused. A reverberation in my ears grew, and my sight went black. I tried to take hold of Traz to steady myself, but my being spun round and round. With a scream, I lost hold of reality and fell.

“I think she might be coming round,” said a voice I recognized but couldn’t place.

“I’ll get the tea ready, just in case.” That was Traz. What was he doing here, anyway, the little traitor?

Some rustling sounds, then a wet compress was placed on my forehead. Water dripped into my hair, making a shiver run down my spine.

I opened my eyes to see a familiar face watching me closely.

“Bre . . . Breyard?” I whispered. I must have been dreaming.

He broke into a smile. “Yes, Donavah.” Then over his shoulder, “She’s really awake. Hurry up with that tea.”

I kept staring at my brother, confused. How could he be here? His hair was long enough to be bound back in a queue and he was dressed in outlandish clothes, but hadn’t I just seen him, naked and bald, hours before? How much time had passed? Lifting a hand to touch his face to see if he was really real, I asked, “How?”

“Shh. Just rest now. I’ll explain when you’re stronger.”

I closed my eyes again, but when Breyard—Breyard!—took my hand in his, I squeezed it weakly.

Minutes, or maybe hours, later, Traz came over with the tea he’d made. Breyard slipped an arm under my shoulders and helped me to sit up a little, then held the cup to my lips so I could sip some. It could’ve done with some sweetening, but the warm liquid felt good going down my throat, and I recognized some of the healing herbs in the brew.

When I’d drunk all the tea, I felt stronger, able to sit up on my own, though I didn’t fancy trying to stand any time soon. We were in a large clearing, surrounded by the thickest wood I’d ever seen. There wasn’t a single break in the wall of deep forest green around us. It must have been late in the afternoon, and the clearing was growing chilly and dark. Traz crouched at a fire nearby, and Xyla sat bolt upright looking straight down at me.

“You’re better,” she said, a motherly tone infusing her voice.

“I think so,” I told her. “But confused.”

“All will be made clear when you are strong enough.”

“You should sleep again,” Breyard said, while Traz built the fire up against the coming dusk. “I don’t know what made you pass out on Xyla’s back, but whatever it was, it’s really taken a lot out of you.”

I shook my head. “I’m not going to sleep until you tell me what happened. And why
he’s
here.”

At that, Traz looked up, hurt plain on his face.

Breyard frowned at me. “What are you talking about?”

“He betrayed Xyla to the Royal Guard, that’s what I’m talking about.”

“Are you mad?” Traz squeaked, throwing a large branch onto the fire and coming over to where Breyard and I sat. “Betray Xyla? What makes you say that?”

“A pheasant.” He gave me a confused look. “A pheasant saw you lead a bunch of soldiers to Xyla. It told me so.”

“I swear to you, Donavah,” he said, with a look of utter astonishment on his face, “that’s not true. I would never have betrayed Xyla—or you—to anyone, and especially not to the Royal Guard.” He pointed to the pink line on his cheek.

I snorted in disbelief. Breyard said, “Let him speak his piece, Donavah. After all, he’s the one who saved you from falling off the dragon.” I scowled but didn’t say anything.

Traz continued. “I’m serious. I got separated from you in the marketplace, right?” I gave him a curt nod. “Well, I went back to look for you, but a market trader grabbed me, accused me of stealing some of his wares. Wouldn’t believe me that I didn’t, that he was mixing me up with someone else. Didn’t do any good. They threw me in the lockup. With no one to bail me out, I was stuck there. The food was awful.” He was so fierce about that fact that I almost began to want to believe him. “It’s the truth, Donavah. I didn’t get out until yesterday morning. It was Emancipation Day, you know, and I drew a white stone.” He pulled it out of his pocket and held it up for me to see. “The warden drew a black one. And I managed to sneak my way into the arena.”

I remained silent.

“Well, you can ask Xyla,” he said, his voice a little petulant. “It wasn’t me who turned her over to the Royal Guard. I can’t believe you would think that for even a minute.” He turned his back on me and went back to tending the fire.

“Traz speaks truth.” Xyla’s voice startled me. “It wasn’t him.”

“Then what happened?”

“A farm lad must have seen us. Or maybe he was a shepherd boy. He led them to me, and with their powerful spells and poison, the dragonmasters forced me to their will. I do not wish to speak more of it, but do not be angry with Traz. It is he who broke the spells to free me.”

“What?” I said aloud. I rose gingerly and didn’t let the dizziness force me back to the ground until I sat next to Traz. He stared at flames, tapping his fingers against his walking stick. “Xyla says you broke the spells. How?”