SpringFire (4 page)

“I wouldn’t even use this to teach Traz to shoot,” he said, “but it’ll have to do for now. I’ll need to get a better one before long, if we can only find a settlement.”

“Does that mean that you
will
teach him to shoot?” I asked hopefully.

“I suppose I will. If I can. If I must.”

His eyes dared me to rise to the bait, but I didn’t. “And you’ll be able to bring down something big enough for Xyla to eat?”

Grey grimaced. “I hope so. I’ll go now and see what I can find.”

“Before breakfast? You have to eat something before you go.”

“Already did. Leftover rabbit. Well, wish me good hunting.”

And he disappeared into the woods.

I went back inside and made tea. Soon Traz returned with a pair of small birds, which we cooked up into a simple stew in my saucepan.

“We’re going to miss bread before long,” I observed.

“I already do.”

“Grey mentioned trying to find a settlement so he could get a new bow. We could get bread, too.”

“With what?” There was a hint of exasperation in his voice. “How much money do
you
have?”

I hadn’t thought of that. “I see what you mean. I haven’t any.”

“Neither do I. If we even find a settlement, which I doubt, we’ll have to work for anything we want to buy.”

Xyla’s weak voice interrupted. “Donavah?”

I ran over to her. “Xyla? Are you awake?”

“Hungry,” she said.

“I know. Grey is out hunting right now.” But when would he be back? It was Winter, and finding anything worthwhile to bring back could take all day. Or longer.

“You must find the other dragons,” she said, and somehow, her voice sounded a little stronger.

“What other dragons?”

“The other red dragons.”

“But Xyla, there are no other red dragons. You’re the only one.”

“That was on Hedra. Now we’re on Stychs.”

There it was again. “What do you mean, Stychs? We’re exactly where we were before, just everyone has gone.” That sounded stupid even to me.

“No. We are on Stychs.” There was a pause. “I cannot explain now. Perhaps later, when I am stronger.”

I sighed. I wanted to understand her, and I wished that maejic extended to reading minds, not only being able to converse with animals.

When she’d fallen asleep again, I got my cloak and went outside. Opening my senses, I could now feel the life of the forest. Last night’s meditation seemed to have done the trick.

I stepped into the woods and walked in among the trees. The slow life that pulsed through them felt much as it did at home, although there was a slightly different flavor that I couldn’t quite define.

The smaller branches of the trees seemed to bend a little toward me, as if in greeting. I smiled as I raised my hands high above my head, touching the leaves I could reach. A ripple of gladness flowed out across the forest, and a tide of welcome returned.

Then a wave of hunger that had nothing to do with my own appetite washed over me. A mind-bending hunger that bordered on starvation. The scent of blood and flesh and bone. I put a hand to my head in a vain effort to dispel the feeling. Instead, it grew stronger.

I stumbled back to the cave, wondering what was wrong with me. Xyla stood half in, half out, and I caught her sense of anticipation. A moment later, with a dragging, almost crashing sound, Grey came out of the woods, pulling the carcass of a huge animal that I didn’t recognize. I didn’t mind Xyla eating, of course, but I didn’t like to watch it, either, so I went into the cave. Grey followed, leaving Xyla to her meal, and I made some tea for him.

“That was fast,” I said. “I didn’t expect to see you back until this afternoon.”

“I know. It was uncanny. There was no sign of any prey at all, much less something big enough for a dragon. Then, all of a sudden, there it was. Almost like magic.”

“Or maybe maejic?” I laughed, then stopped abruptly at that thought.

He gave me a gentle smile. “Maybe.”

“This is good. Is there more?” Xyla asked in a plaintive tone.

Grey rose to his feet. “No rest for the weary, I see. Hope I get that lucky again. This bow isn’t up to any
real
hunting.”

By evening, Xyla was sleeping soundly, having eaten the first beast plus two more that Grey brought back. She still seemed weak, and she spoke very little, but there was at least some improvement.

Traz had returned near nightfall with enough meat for supper. I asked him what he’d been doing all day, but he just made a vague, meaningless noise and turned back to tending the meal as it cooked.

I watched him closely and saw that he kept stroking the stones we’d used to make a ring around the fire, as if trying to memorize their shapes or their texture. I almost asked him about it, but he sat with hunched shoulders, suggesting that he wished to be left alone.

Then, not long after we’d finished eating supper, we all heard footsteps approaching the cave.

We turn our attention now to the most enduring of the creation myths, that of Etos.

It is said that his was the first power, the first life, the first being, and all power, life, and being sprang from him.

Before Etos, the world was black and void. He filled the world with his presence, and thereby filled it with color. Color covered the face of the earth, then reached into its soul and brought forth sound. Color and sound danced, and brought forth scent. Color, sound, and scent meditated and brought forth taste. These four laughed and brought forth touch.

And Etos was well-pleased.

And he sang of his pleasure.

And brought forth life.

And when he was finished, he settled deep into the ether to watch his creation live and dance and meditate and laugh and die and return to the earth from whence it sprang.

~from the lecture notes of Tandor

“H’lo? Who’s there?”

Grey was on his feet, knife in hand, in a flash. He stalked to the mouth of the cave, staying in the shadows.

A figure took a step inside. “H’lo?” the voice said again. “I know you’re there.”

I could understand the words, but they were spoken with a strange, unfamiliar accent.

Grey took advantage of the pause to pounce. He grabbed the person from behind, one arm across their chest and the other hand holding a knife to their throat.

I gasped in surprise; I’d never seen Grey like this—dangerous, lethal even, toward another person. The air tightened with tension, but Xyla slept on, oblivious to it.

“Ya! Let go! I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Move,” Grey growled. “Toward the fire. But don’t try anything.”

They both came into the firelight, and I got a good look at the person.

A very dark-skinned young woman just a few years older than I stood there, her eyes sparkling with anger. She had long hair that was brown or black, I couldn’t tell for sure in the firelight, and was braided into many tiny braids. She was dressed much as we were, in buckskin trousers and tunic though she wore a jacket instead of a cloak. Like Grey, she had a knife hanging from her belt, giving her a dangerous air.

“I’m going to let you go now,” he said, still speaking in a low, threatening voice, “but if you make a false move or try to get away, I’ll kill you.” And I believed he would.

“Why would I leave? I was trying to find you, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

Grey let her go, and she brushed off her clothes and rearranged them a bit. His eyes glittered as her hand strayed to her hip. She looked down and found the knife sheath empty, and when she looked back at Grey, he pulled a hand from behind his back and held up a wicked-looking knife.

With a shriek of outrage, she leapt at him, reaching for the weapon. Grey flicked it away, far out of her reach, but she didn’t pay attention to that as she closed on him, fists flying.

His sardonic grin changed to a look of surprise at the ferocity of her attack. She landed one blow in his stomach and another on his chin before he quite realized what was happening.

Traz and I exchanged glances. He wore a delighted smile, just as one would expect from a boy watching a fight. I grabbed his shoulder.

“You’re staying out of it,” I hissed, not trusting him enough to let him go. He tried to shrug out of my grip, but I held on tighter. I knew Grey would win this fight, but I didn’t want Traz to get hurt in the process.

By now, Grey had grasped the young woman’s left wrist and was holding it over her head. But despite her awkward stance, she was still managing to keep her right arm free and get in a few more punches.

Her high-pitched screeches were punctuated by Grey’s intermittent grunts as he tried to get her under control.

Their struggle moved them closer to the fire, and I cried out a warning to Grey. That broke his concentration, and she got him square on the jaw. I winced as if she’d actually struck me instead of him.

Now Grey got serious, using his greater height and weight to advantage. He swung her round by her left arm, pulling down abruptly to knock her off balance. Her scream of rage was cut off with an “oopf” as she tumbled to the ground. Grey scrambled to pin her down. She kicked at him, and Traz let out an indignant squawk when she almost got Grey where it counted.

But it was over a moment later. The woman lay beneath Grey, who used his weight to hold her down. They both were breathing heavily. She spit in Grey’s face, and he shook it off.

“That’s enough,” he said in a loud, stern voice I scarcely recognized. “Donavah, get something to tie her hands.”

She spit at him again.

I knew I didn’t have any rope in my pack. “Traz, lend me your sling.”

With a grin that suggested he was enjoying this far too much, he dug it out of his pocket and handed it to me.

The woman was still struggling against Grey, and I rushed over. He forced her wrists together, and I hesitantly started wrapping the thongs around them. Once satisfied she couldn’t slip her hands out, Grey took over and bound her securely, then wiped off his face with a revolted expression. When she made a motion with her jaw as if she were going to spit yet again, Grey raised his hand as if to strike her.

“I’d rather not,” he said. The venom in his voice sent a chill down my spine and even gave the woman pause. She swallowed.

Grey grabbed the collar of her shirt and pulled her to a sitting position. I stepped away because something about this woman unsettled me, and it didn’t matter that her hands were bound.

She glanced over at me, and our eyes met. Her gaze pierced me, leaving me feeling as if she could read my soul.

“It was you,” she said in a quiet voice.

I took another step back. “What was me?” I said the words so softly I wasn’t even sure I spoke them aloud.

“I felt you. That’s what drew me here.”

Grey looked at me, a confused scowl on his face. Traz moved to my side, as if I needed his protection. I just shook my head.

Her lip curled and she shrugged in a disdainful way. “As you wish.” She glared back at Grey. “What are you going to do with me now?”

He rose to his feet and started brushing the dirt off his clothes. “We’ll have to wait and see. But I’m not going to hurt you, if that’s what you mean.”

“I’m
so
reassured.”

Grey just threw her a dirty look and walked away.

Surprisingly, it was Traz who remembered his manners first. “I’m Traz,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Why would I be wanting to tell you that?”

Annoyance began to take the edge off my fear. “Is politeness something you don’t do around here?”

She let out a snort of disgust and raised her bound hands toward me in answer. Perhaps she had a point there. Still, if she hadn’t attacked Grey, she wouldn’t be in this predicament now.

Undeterred, Traz went over to the fire and looked in the supper pot sitting next to it. “Well, luckily Donavah hasn’t gotten around to washing the dishes yet. There’s not much, but you can have what’s left.” He scraped out the last bits of stew gravy into a bowl and handed it to her.

Her eyes softened a little as she took the food and awkwardly slurped it out of the bowl. I moved closer to the fire, hoping its warmth would chase away some of the chill that this woman brought to my heart.

Grey took the first watch. When he woke me, he merely commented that our captive had neither slept nor spoken. Then he wrapped himself in his cloak and lay down.

I sat across the fire from the woman. She stared at me, and I shivered. Was she trying to read my mind or something? All my senses were alert, but nothing disturbed the life vibrations except her anger, and that was understandable enough.

After awhile, she spoke, not making any effort to keep her voice down. “Your boyfriend is a prick, but the kid’s not bad.”

“My boyfriend?” I asked with a surprised gulp. My face burned. “He’s not—”

“Uh huh,” she interrupted. “If he’s not, you wish he was, don’t you?”

My eyes shot to where Grey lay. I hoped he’d fallen asleep and would stay that way. My feelings for him weren’t something I wanted discussed, not with the stranger or anyone else, much less in front of him.

“So what’s wrong with the dragon?” she asked.

“Huh?” Could this possibly be a more disconcerting conversation? “How do you know there’s something wrong with her?”

The woman rolled her eyes.

“It’s pretty obvious to anyone with the wit to perceive it.” Her tone implied that I lacked that wit.

Xyla stirred just then, as if our talking about her penetrated her sleep. Her eyes, half open, glittered in the firelight. I wanted to go over to her, to touch her, to try to lend her strength, but I needed to keep an eye on this woman.

She looked over at the dragon, too, and when she did, the hard look melted from her face. Then she let out a startled gasp. “Xyla says I must lead you to Delaron.”

My insides froze. Xyla had spoken to this woman. And hadn’t included me.

Then to me Xyla said, “She is not a danger. She will help you.”

I rose to my feet, torn between not wanting to take my eyes off the woman and wanting the comfort of being close to the dragon.

“But Xyla,” I said, “she attacked Grey. She would’ve killed him if she could’ve.”

“She understands now. You can trust her. She will help.” And the pinpoints of reflected firelight disappeared as Xyla closed her eyes.

When the woman turned back to me, her face was no longer angry. “My name is Shandry,” she said. “I will do as Xyla says.”

I plopped back down. How could Xyla be so sure this Shandry could be trusted? Could I bring myself to trust her? She’d practically admitted that it was her spirit I’d met while meditating, that she’d sought us out because of that.

Xyla’s voice inside my head cut through my confusion. “Untie her,” she commanded in a tone that was not to be contradicted.

I swallowed, trying to suppress my own feelings. Then I went over to Shandry, who watched my every move with a completely unreadable look on her face.

“Xyla says I’m to untie you.” I wanted it to be very clear that this was the dragon’s idea, not mine. I crouched next to Shandry, and she held out her hands to me.

As I fiddled with the knot, I saw that for all his anger, Grey hadn’t been cruel in binding her wrists. It was cleverly done, the way he’d made it so she couldn’t possibly free herself, but in a way that wasn’t painful and didn’t cut off the circulation. It took a frustratingly long time to loosen the knots. More than once I was tempted to cut them, but I had a feeling that ruining Traz’s sling would be a mistake. Not only would it mean one less hunting implement—which we couldn’t afford to lose in our current circumstances—but also he would kill me.

My heart beat hard in my chest and my hands shook as I unwound the leather thongs from Shandry’s wrists. What if Xyla were wrong? What if Shandry ran off? What if she tried to kill me? I didn’t have the first idea of how to defend myself.

Shandry leapt to her feet as soon as I’d freed her. I did, too, letting out a yelp of surprise. She headed for the mouth of the cave, and I raced after her, scarcely noticing the sounds of Grey and Traz behind me.

“Where are you going?” I shouted at her.