Dragon Wife (7 page)

As Vardis and the guards came into view, along the banks of a small river, Orwenna saw dark shapes race out of the forest around them. They looked like wolves, only much bigger than the ones she’d seen near Mirra Muir.

There were at least a half dozen, each standing close to three feet tall at the shoulders. Her horse sidestepped nervously, nostrils flaring as the scent of predators carried downwind to it.

The pack closed in, lunging at the three men, snarling and snapping with their powerful jaws. The guards drew swords, and Vardis summoned magical fire, hurling it at the wolves closest to him. Unfortunately he seared the rump of his horse, which reared, whinnying. Vardis was thrown into the river, and Orwenna lost sight of him.

She watched helplessly as the men and their steeds were dragged down. No matter how much she wanted to help, there was nothing she could do. The wolves were too numerous, and she had neither weapons nor skill for the purpose. All she could do was bear witness, hearing the distant cries grow silent, replaced by the jubilant howls of a successful hunt.

A cold sweat broke out all over her body, and her hands trembled. Cautiously, she urged her horse forward along the ridge, needing to put as much distance between herself and the pack as possible. The breeze was blowing in her direction, so the wolves would be unlikely to smell her. They were busy with their fresh kill and would remain so for a time. It gave her the chance to skirt around them and be on her way.

Orwenna’s heart still hammered in her chest as she reached the head of the valley. It was impossible to know exactly which route Vardis intended. They had been traveling steadily eastwards, so she decided to continue in that direction, hoping it would take her closer to Dragonvale. Now that the others were dead, it was up to her to deliver the king’s message.

For the first time, she thought seriously about the implications of a Keskan invasion. What would happen if they weren’t turned back? Mirra Muir was only two days’ ride north of the border. Would the estate be sacked? What of Tyna, Padrig, and the others? Were their lives in danger?

Her mind flashed with images of them murdered or lying burnt in the charred remains of the house. These thoughts mingled with her horror at the wolves’ carnage, twisting her stomach to nausea. She’d never seen anything so brutal before.

The spring afternoon no longer seemed pleasant, the forest looming around her, menacing and full of unknown perils. Claustrophobia choked her as she brought her heels to the horse’s sides, forcing it to a faster pace. She had to be careful not to wear the animal down, but at the same time she needed to get out of these damned trees, up where she could see clearly.

Orwenna didn’t want anything sneaking up on her, padding through the forest on silent feet. At least with a wide view, pursuers could be seen, long before they reached her. It didn’t mean she would get away, but at least she’d have some warning. Vardis and his guards never stood a chance.

For the next two hours, Orwenna rode higher and higher, keeping always to the ridge tops. The woods thinned, giving way to alpine meadows where grass was just beginning to grow, and patches of melting snow still lingered in the shade. The trees changed also, becoming smaller, shaped by the burden of long winters.

Orwenna reigned in her horse at the top of a steep incline, looking back over the country she’d covered. The land fell sharply away, allowing her to see past the foothills to the flats beyond. In the distant haze, she almost imagined she could see ocean, but the sun was in her eyes, sunk halfway toward the horizon.

Though the day was still warm, she knew night waited, and it would be bitter up here on the exposed flank of a mountain. She needed to find shelter before the sun went down.

As if to emphasize this, a wolf’s howl rose from the forest below. It was answered by others, their chorus echoing in the stillness. Orwenna’s horse shifted uneasily beneath her, sending a stray rock clattering down the slope.

“Easy now,” she murmured, patting the animal’s neck. In truth, she felt just as scared as her horse.

Making matters worse, she had no idea if she was progressing toward Dragonvale. What if she’d strayed too far south or north? Vardis was the only one who knew the exact location of the clan’s home. She had no basis for choosing her route.

Despair gripped Orwenna. What was she going to do? Her survival and possibly the fate of all Rhelaun, rested on her narrow shoulders. There was so much at stake, yet she felt woefully insufficient.

“Settle down,” she told herself firmly. “Worrying yourself into a lather isn’t going to help. There has to be a way through this.”

She dismounted, wrapping her horse’s reigns loosely around a tree limb, before beginning to pace. First, nine steps one way, then a quick turn and nine steps back. Moving helped her think, breaking the paralysis of fear. An idea surfaced.

If she couldn’t be sure of finding Dragonvale, what if the dragons found her instead? She had linked minds once with Huroth. Could she do so again, even over this greater distance? It might be her best hope.

Closing her eyes to block out distractions, Orwenna poured her will and energy into the calling.

Huroth!

She waited, but nothing happened.

Picturing the dragon chieftain clearly in her mind, she sent with all the force she could muster, desperate for it to work.

Huroth! I need you!

A moment passed, and then...

Orwenna?

He was there with her, as if they inhabited the same space, breathed the same breath. The connection was far more potent than when she’d met him at Whiterock. Now it wasn’t merely his words inside her mind. They were melded, sharing the same consciousness.

For an instant she saw through his eyes, as he soared over jagged peaks, impossibly far below. She felt his massive muscles pumping with each wing beat, the wind rushing over his scales, the breathless drop as he plunged downwards, searching for her.

His wild intensity translated through every particle of her being, ripping her away from herself into something she’d never known…could never have imagined. It was too much. She felt like she was disintegrating from the inside out.

In a panicked reflex, Orwenna forced Huroth out of her mind. She dropped to her knees gasping, digging her fingers into the rocky soil, grounding back into her human body.

Chapter Four

Huroth grunted in surprise as he was slammed out of Orwenna’s mind. The connection between them was the strongest he’d known, communicating more than just words. He’d experienced sensory details and emotions, as well as something else, more elusive.

It was hard to define exactly what he’d felt from Orwenna, but the depth of it intrigued him. He’d never heard of any human able to meld with a dragon so powerfully. Even between dragons such bonds were rare. He regretted how brief it had been and wondered what caused the link to sever.

At the very least, he’d seen through her eyes, recognizing the high saddle where she stood, just west of the triple sisters, three dagger-like peaks following a north-south alignment. It wouldn’t take him long to reach her.

As he flew, Huroth thought back to his first meeting with Orwenna. She’d been barely more than a girl then, all wide eyes and long limbs. Despite her coltish looks and impulsive manner, there had been something compelling about her. Magic permeated her aura with a brightness he’d seldom seen.

He had wondered about her more than once in the intervening years, curious to know how she’d matured and where her life had taken her. It never occurred to him he’d find her here, in the high mountains. What could have brought her to such a remote location?

After twenty minutes, flying his fastest, Huroth spotted Orwenna. She was sitting cross-legged on a boulder, head bowed as if deep in thought. When she became aware of him approaching, she jumped up, holding a hand above her eyes to shield them from the glare of the sun.

As Huroth swept a low circle, preparing to land on the narrow ridge top, Orwenna’s horse spooked. It snapped its head back, ears pinned to its skull, whites of the eyes showing. Then it bolted down the slope, skidding on loose rocks.

Orwenna stood her ground, though Huroth’s wing beats whipped the air into a tempest. His dragon senses told him she was afraid. He could smell the apprehension on her, along with excitement and something else, harder to place. If only he knew humans better, he might be able to interpret the warm, slightly sweet scent woven in with the others. He quite liked it.

She had changed over the past seven years, growing into her features and her figure. Though she was tall for a human woman, she no longer appeared bony or awkward. Her form had filled out nicely with curves in all the best places, as her leggings and thin shirt revealed.

Her face didn’t have the doll-like prettiness of Princess Ayelet, but it was striking, conveying both intelligence and strength of will. With her hair wind-whipped from its braid, her cheeks sun-kissed, and her eyes the color of an alpine lake, she made a pleasing sight.

After landing, Huroth shifted quickly to eldrin form. He didn’t want to alarm Orwenna unnecessarily, and he realized his drake form was daunting.

What are you doing in the mountains?
He sent the question, mind to mind, wishing to feel again the richness of their connection.

She went rigid, shaking her head and forcefully closing off the link.

“No!” she said. “Stop that.”

Huroth was mystified.

“Why?” he asked. “Don’t you like it?”

“No. It’s too…” She struggled for the right word. “Disorienting.”

“Really? I rather enjoy it.”

“You’re a dragon and used to such things. I’m not. Can we please just speak aloud?”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

He studied her, trying to understand what had put her off. When he’d encountered her at Whiterock, the mind link seemed to please her. Of course it had not been nearly so intense. What brought about the change?

“You still haven’t told me why you’re here,” he said, deciding to leave his other questions for later.

“I bring a message from King Elric. The Keskan army is gathering beyond our southern border, ready for an invasion. The king requests you come and help to drive them back.”

Huroth took that in. It was bound to happen sooner or later. He knew how some of his clan would react and didn’t relish telling them.

“Of course, we’ll honor the terms of our alliance,” he said. “But why did the king send you? Where is the mage, Vardis?”

Orwenna shifted her weight from one foot to the other, refusing to meet his gaze. After a considerable pause, she explained.

“The king sent Vardis, but he and his guards were killed by wolves, just a few hours ago.”

“Yet you escaped unharmed?” Huroth knew how deadly wolf packs were, here in the high country. They made lowland wolves seem like lap dogs.

“I wasn’t traveling with Vardis.” She looked uncomfortable. “I was following a distance behind. The wolves didn’t notice me. I was downwind, and they were busy…” She shuddered, leaving the rest unsaid.

“Why would you do such a thing?” Huroth asked, stunned. “Don’t you know how dangerous these mountains are? There’s a dozen different things that could take you down, and that’s if you’re a man with a sword or an axe to swing. An unarmed woman, traveling alone, is pure foolishness.”

“I didn’t completely think it through,” she answered, staring at the ground.

“Clearly. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Something shifted in Orwenna’s expression, and she straightened.

“As it turns out, my recklessness may save Rhelaun. If I hadn’t been following Vardis, there would be no one to deliver the king’s message.”

Huroth frowned, disturbed by the thought of this vibrant woman being savaged by wolves.

“Does anyone know you’re here?” he asked, wondering at her family’s negligence.

“Why should they?” She lifted her chin, a defiant light kindling in her eyes. “I don’t have to explain myself, not even to you. It was my decision to come here, and while it may have been rash, everything has worked out. I found you, and now you know of the invasion. Story over.”

“Story not over,” he corrected. “You still have to make it out of these mountains with your skin intact. I don’t want your blood on my hands.”

“It won’t be!”

“If I leave you alone now, knowing the situation, I’m as good as digging your grave. I’ll have to come with you.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Is that so?” He let out a dry laugh. “Right now, you don’t even have a horse.”

“Whose fault is that?” she snapped, almost immediately looking sorry.

“Forgive me,” she said, taking a deep breath. “That was unfair. I called you here, and you’re only concerned for my safety. My nerves are just a little thin right now.”

“Not surprising, all things considered.”

Privately, he respected her stamina. It was no small thing, making a solitary trek through these mountains, and still having fire power enough to argue at the end of the day.

“If you’ll excuse me,” she said. “I should get my horse, before she wanders off too far. Perhaps you could wait here?”

“That would be wise,” he agreed. “I smell of drake.”

“At least you’re not six yards long, thundering down from the sky, like earlier.” She gave him a shaky smile, and some of the tension relaxed in his shoulders.

Huroth watched Orwenna walk down the rocky slope, admiring the fine lines of her body. She possessed the agile grace of someone used to being active and outdoors. He observed how she approached the horse from an angle so it could see her easily, her movements smooth. She waited until she was right up next to it, before calmly reaching for the reigns.

As they climbed toward the ridge top, the horse seemed docile enough. It wasn’t till they neared Huroth that its head pulled up, neck stiff, nostrils wide.

“Easy girl,” Orwenna murmured, rubbing the horse’s withers. “You’re going to have to get used to him.”

“Here, let me try something,” he said, carefully offering the horse his hand to sniff, as he began a low singing. When he was younger, Tirza taught him a chant for calming frightened animals. He’d used it mostly to lull baby Harith to sleep.