Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) (10 page)

She giggled.
‘I don’t eat uncooked meat and my fire starter must dry before I can start a fire. I’ll also need wood.’

Dragon sprawled on the floor of the cave.
‘Use water from the hottest part of the pool.’

‘What will I put the food in while it cooks? My pot is gone.’

Dragon rested his head on his bent front legs.
‘Walk down the tunnel. In one of the side caverns you will find things belonging to my people.’

Lorana entered the passage and trailed a hand along the wall as a guide through the darkness. When she reached the pool room she continued past. A few steps later she felt the opening of a cave and stepped inside. A blast of frigid air sent her scurrying into the corridor.

She came to a second opening. Light from a narrow fissure near the peak of the dome made her gasp. Long pillars of what looked like glass rose from floor to dome. Scattered across the floor she saw treasures. Gleaming gold, tarnished silver and other objects the color of polished silver captured her attention.

She moved into the room to make her selections. She took two small gold kettles, a flat tray of not-silver, a cup and several not-silver spoons, and a large knife for when she needed to butcher some animal Dragon brought back. The edge of the knife was sharper than any she’d ever seen.

Lorana loaded the things in the kettles and on the tray and carried them to the bathing room where she washed dust away. She filled one kettle with water from the hottest part of the pool.

She added dried meat and vegetables to the pot. Her stomach ached. While she waited for the food to heat she washed the blanket and the two cloths once part of her dress. She carried them outside to dry in the sun. Dragon remained in the entrance cave. She carried the kettle, a bowl and cup and joined her friend.

‘Where can I find wood and dry grass? I’ll also need a lot of stones.’

‘Why?’

‘The stones to make a fireplace for cooking my food. The wood for a fire and the grass for the floor of my sleeping place and to make torches for light.’

‘I will find some. So you eat the way my men and women did. The desert people do the same.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘They are kin to my people. I can hear some of them and might even be able to talk to them. They have no desire to ride dragons. They ride sleek four-footed creatures over the sand and rocks. When the riders lived here, dragons could not eat the riding animals.’

‘I’m glad you can’t. Those people will make good friends.’
Lorana leaned forward.
‘There is a cave along the corridor where the air is colder than winter blasts. Why?

‘The place was where meat was kept to use when hunting was poor.’

‘I see.’

‘I go to hunt.
He waddled from the cave.

Lorana walked to the opening. She watched him pump his wings and soar into the sky.

* * *

Cregan cursed the rain. At least the path led through a forest. The trees provided some respite from the constant wetness. His cloak of dragon skin kept rain from soaking him. The dragon hide gloves protected his hands. Only his face suffered. He pulled a wand free and thought of his rival. By traveling long hours and having a burden beast to carry his possessions he had shortened the distance between them.

The wand indicated north and slightly east. Cregan withdrew the power, waited and thought of Lorana. The wand never wavered. He shoved it onto his belt sheath and yanked on the beast’s pull rope.

Throughout the day he pushed forward. At dusk he made camp and cooked a meal.

With the dawn he emerged from the forest at the foot of a steep slope. He laughed. Standing midway up the rise near a cluster of rocks, he saw Arton. The burden beast balked and refused to move. Cregan heard a rumbling noise.

“Arton, stop! Join me in seeking shelter,” Cregan shouted.

“Run,” Arton yelled.

What did the warning mean? He could no longer see Arton. Then Cregan saw rocks, at first small ones, and then huge ones gathered mud and more rocks until they formed a wall sweeping down the slope.

The burden beast pulled on his arm. Cregan stumbled and nearly fell. He struggled to remove a wand but had no time to use a stone to halt the river of rocks and mud. He managed to turn the beast away from the flow.

Once out of the path of the avalanche Cregan pulled a wand free. He cast a circle of safety around himself and the pack animal. The creature’s wild eyes softened and the equine sank to the ground. The rumbling roar ceased. He heard crashing and then silence. Cregan studied his surroundings. Many of the trees in the path of the slide had become splinters.

Cregan used his wand to search for Arton. The stone at the tip glowed but didn’t move. Cregan’s gut clenched. He rested his head on his bent knees. Was Arton dead? If so, the challenge had ended leaving him no chance of winning a seat on the council.

A growl erupted from his throat. He had to return to the citadel with a story to keep his father from learning his rival was dead.

Cregan rose and tugged on the pull rope. The burden beast lunged to its feet. The rain began anew with pellets of ice mixed with the water. Some reached thumbnail size. Cregan plodded forward. Word by word the tale of what to report to Mecador formed.

Arton had fled. He had released the rocks to keep his rival from reaching him. Cregan added a bit of how Arton had refused to stop. Mecador would believe the adopted man intended to win no matter what he had to do.

Though the reward remained hidden somewhere in the hills, come spring Cregan would lead a party of wizards and guards to capture her. Arton’s bones might be found, but who could say they were his? There had been other challenge losers who had left the citadel never to return.

Chapter Six

“Arton, halt.”

His rival’s shout startled Arton. He turned from the fire where a haunch of roe deer hung to cook. When his food hit a rock he landed on his knees. The rock rolled and hit the cluster where he’d sheltered last night. A suspicious rumbling caused him to grab his pack and cloak before diving to grasp a pinnacle of rock jutting from the earth.

He turned his head. His eyes widened. “Cregan, run.”

The jumble of rocks rolled down the slope carrying mud and Arton’s fire. His food was soon buried. At first the sound barely registered but grew thunderous, as the boulders and mud rolled toward the trees at the foot of the slope. With a booming sound the massive slide hit the trees sending pieces of wood and leaves into the air.

The misting rain changed to a drizzle and then a downpour. Arton’s view of the lower slope and Cregan blurred. He noticed how the forest had been shattered. Where was Cregan? The other wizard had vanished.

Emotions flooded his thoughts. Since the slide had been his fault, guilt rose. Relief followed when he realized there would be no duel of wands. When he considered what Mecador might do when he learned about his son’s death and who had been the cause, fear rocked his body.

If Cregan lay beneath a pile of rubble, there was no chance of winning the council seat. Even if the body was found Arton would be declared a wizard of the second rank. He would be called a failure and be fated to serve the council members as they wished. He groaned. What should he do?

The chill rain continued. Pellets of ice stung his face. Arton shouldered his pack and donned his cloak. He emitted a growl. Not only had his meal been swept away, so had his pot and his water flask. He looked around. His bow was gone. These thoughts caused him to remember he had planned to eat.

Though his cloak protected him from the rain and his boots and trousers protected him from being soaked, the ice pellets were large. He stared at the slope. The barren stretch of mud posed treacherous footing. He continued to stare. Rocks and mud faced him. At some distance he saw what appeared to be another forest.

With one foot after another he inched ahead taking care not to set off another slide. Several times he stopped and used cupped hands to catch water to drink. He hoped that would keep him from thinking about the lost haunch of meat. When he reached the trees he would pull dried food from his pack.

In the forest he found shelter beneath a full-leafed tree. Along with dried meat from his pack he found some pine nuts. He cracked and scooped the meat into his mouth. There were edibles in his sack, but they should be cooked. Though what he’d eaten satisfied his hunger, he wanted something hot to warm his chilled body. He curled in his cloak and blanket to sleep.

In the morning he reached a clearing that ended in a cave carved into a hill. He dashed across the flat area, entered and slumped against the wall.

He smelled meat cooking. Was his mind playing tricks? The scent was light but remained present. He pushed to his feet to follow the aroma. He saw a tunnel at the end of the cave. He entered. Darkness surrounded him. He placed one hand on the wall and waited for his vision to adjust. Though he could have used a wand to light the way, he didn’t want to alert anyone who might live here. With each step the aroma of meat grew stronger.

A shadowy figure blocked his path. He pressed his back against the passage wall.
Huge. Looming. Two large yellow eyes. Two small blue ones.
Did he face a two-headed monster? His heart galloped faster than the burden beasts raced by the desert clans. Rasping breaths filled the air. His or the two headed beast’s?

A scream raised goose bumps on his arms. Panic slithered down his spine. He wanted to run but his knees locked. He inched along the wall toward the entrance cave. In the light the figure turned into a dragon. Fear escalated. He turned to run, tripped and sprawled on the hard rock.

Terror filled his thoughts. His clothing had been made from dragon skin. He pulled a wand free. “Please. I mean no harm.”

The beast lowered its body. The huge head moved from side to side. Arton couldn’t move, couldn’t power his wand and couldn’t think. Was he to be the dragon’s next meal?

* * *

Lorana’s scream echoed from the walls. Who had found her? She couldn’t return to the citadel. Her silent cries to Dragon were unanswered. His comforting presence moved away. What was happening? She got to her feet and staggered after her friend.

She reached the outer cave, where gray light allowed her to see Dragon and a man wearing dragon hide clothes. Her friend’s growl troubled her. Would he attack? She reached his side and edged around his body to identify the wizard who held a wand in his hand.

With a gasp, she recognized Arton. He raised the wand. “Don’t,” she shouted. She recalled Dragon’s stories of how the wizards had blinded the dragons. How could she and Dragon survive if he couldn’t see to fly? She stepped in front of her friend.

“Lorana, has this creature made you a prisoner?” Arton sheathed his wand. “Don’t fear. I’ll rescue you and take you back to the citadel.”

She shook her head. “I’m no prisoner and I won’t go back. Dragon saved my life. He is my friend. I will remain in his home.”

A frown wrinkled Arton’s forehead. “Mecador sent Cregan and me to find you. Whoever succeeds and brings you back untouched will have the seat on the council. I will be that man.”

Lorana’s hands fisted. “I will not go back. I won’t be a slave.”

Arton groaned. “Matters have changed since I left. I just recalled what happened a few days ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“There is no going back for either of us unless I can prove I’m strong enough to challenge Mecador and the other council members.”

“I never intend to return. Why can’t you go back and forget you saw me?”

He bowed his head. “There was an avalanche. I saw Cregan at the bottom of the slope moments before the slide started. When the noise stopped I couldn’t see him.”

“Then you have the council seat. Go back and tell them you never saw me.”

He shook his head. “If he’s dead, returning might make me a second rank wizard.”

‘Dragon, is he telling the truth?’

‘I do not know. His surface thoughts are filled with fear.’

Lorana stared at Arton. “Why would becoming a second ranked wizard bother you?”

He straightened. “I will not be used by the council as they wish.”

She laughed. “So, they will make you a slave. Go. We don’t need you. Dragon and I are safe here.”

“You are not. In the spring men will come from the citadel seeking you. No woman is allowed to escape the hareem. They will kill the dragon.”

‘Lorana, be kind to him,’
Dragon said.

She heard Arton’s stomach growl. “Dragon wants me to be nice to you. You’re hungry.” She handed him the fire starter. There’s only meat and broth from cooking scraps in water. I used all my dried food.”

He opened his pack. “I’ve some dried vegetables, grain, fruit and meat. We can add some of these things to what you have.”

Lorana scurried away. She returned with the pot of meat and a second filled with water. She set the gold vessel on the fireplace she’d made using a sheet of the silver-like metal she’d found as a cooking surface. She used the other pot to place grain and dried fruit. She left and returned with bowls, cups and spoons. Before long the pot boiled. She dipped the soup into the bowls and poured water from a silver pitcher into the cups.