Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) (13 page)

‘Take me to the heated pool and spread my wing on the water. I will heal slowly.’

“Arton, Dragon goes to the pool. After he settles I’ll spread his wing.”

“We should take turns so one of us doesn’t remain in the pool too long.”

“Good thought.”

Once Dragon reached the pool and waded into the water, Lorana stripped and swam to his side to begin cutting the leather ropes. Slowly the wing unfolded. Dragon’s growls caused her to cry.

Arton swam to them. “Go. I’ll finish.”

Lorana reached the edge of the pool. Air dried her skin. She dressed and watched Arton work

* * *

Dragon floated in the pool. He drifted toward the hottest part of the water. The wing would heal, but spring would arrive before he could leave the comfort of the heat. Would the wizards wait beyond the season change to hunt for Lorana and Arton? He remembered what Arton had said about finding people using the wand. That boded evil.

Though he promised to sleep, pain kept him awake. He fought the urge to speak to Lorana. He didn’t want to share the agony of healing. She was his friend.

Arton’s assistance pleased him. The young man tried to protect and help Lorana. He had comforted her. Dragon recalled the past when riders of the reds and blues mated and helped each other. Though he was the only dragon here, Lorana and Arton could become like those men and women.

Gradually the pain eased. Dragon sought Lorana. She was in the outer cave sewing leaper and climber skins. Arton stared at the yellow, orange and red stones.

‘Lorana, what is he doing?’

‘He fastens colored stones to the ironwood wands. He thinks there is a way to heal your wing but he hesitates to try.’

Dragon searched his memories. He brought Arton’s deepest ones to the surface. A woman held a red stone on a chain above a child’s head. The deep cut on the child’s wounded leg stopped bleeding. The cut healed. Was this possible?

‘Tell him I want him to try.’

‘He said he must think about what he needs to do.’

‘I will wait.’

* * *

The flames of the fire caught the gems, making them glow. Arton studied the four colors. Would mounting them to the ironwood wands help maintain the length of time they held their power. He knew the purpose of three. Was his theory about the red correct? To him red meant blood, a necessity to life. Something about the color triggered his belief he could use the red to heal. Was this some memory from the days before he’d been adopted by a wizard? He might never know.

He selected pieces of ironwood. The wythes were about the length of his forearm from wrist to elbow. They were less flexible than any of the woods he’d tried to use. Would this make a difference?

“Dragon really wants you to try to heal his bones.”

“I will, but not until I see how the stones function when joined to these new wands.”

She reached for one of the wythes and a piece of rough sandstone. “Where should I begin?”

“Rub the rough bark away from the thick end of the piece about a hand grip in width. Keep doing this until the area is smooth.” He made a fist to show her how far,

They worked together in silence. When there were four wands with smooth grips he looked up. Her wide staring eyes made him wonder if she spoke to Dragon. Arton leaned forward and touched her hand. “What does he want?”

“A large feeding.”

Arton reached for the wand with the white stone. Without speaking he went outside and called an animal. The stone lit. He felt Lorana’s presence at his side. A huge buck roe deer left the forest.

Lorana flung a stone with her sling and followed at once with a second. The animal collapsed. Arton withdrew the power from the wand. He smiled. The new one worked smoother and faster than his old one. He slit the deer’s throat. He and Lorana completed the butchering. Using the skin they carried the meat to the pool.

While Dragon ate, Arton returned to the outer cave to experiment with the other stones. Rather than test them inside, he stood on the snow covered ground. He triggered the yellow. Light glowed bright and steady until he withdrew the power. A single burst from the orange set a piece of ironwood ablaze. The results pleased him. Would the red act as he expected?

He returned to the cave and crouched beside Lorana. “I’m ready to test the red. Will you help me?”

She put aside the deerskin she scraped. “What do you want me to do?”

“Will you cut your arm so I can heal the wound with the red?”

“Will this work?”

“I’m not sure but I have hope. Will you?”

For an instant fear flashed in her blue eyes. She released a held breath. “Yes.”

“Not too deep.”

Lorana held the knife against her skin. With a quick movement she pulled the blade. Blood dripped on the snow.

For a moment Arton couldn’t move. Her blood flowed faster than he had expected. Drawing a deep breath he powered the red. Lorana’s face grew ashen. She slid to the ground.

At first the red ray was wide. He narrowed it to a thin line and played the scarlet beam along Lorana’s arm. The bleeding ceased. The skin healed, leaving a thin white line.

He went to her and lifted her into his arms. “Why did you cut so deep?”

“I forgot. I used a knife from the treasure cave, one of the silver-not-silver. Was sharper than I thought.” She rose. “We must go to Dragon.”

He clasped her hand. “You’ll have to help me.”

“What can I do”?”

“When I use the ray, talk to Dragon. The healing may hurt. You’ll need to coax him to come as close to the edge as possible. I don’t think I should be in the water.”

She nodded. “Follow your instincts.” Once they reached the bathing cavern her eyes took on the faraway look. Dragon moved toward the edge.

Arton waited until Dragon stopped as close to the edge as he could and still support his injured wing on the water. Arton drew the red-tipped wand from his belt sheath. He sent power into the stone and directed the wide band toward Dragon’s wing.

He roared. Arton stepped back. The wand wavered.

“Don’t stop,” Lorana cried. “The bones are knitting.”

Arton drew a deep breath. The wand steadied. Red light rolled over the wing.

“You can stop,” Lorana yelled. “The bones are healed.”

Elation filled Arton. He now knew what all the fyrestones did. How much could he heal with one red? The stone didn’t seem to have lost any luster.

* * *

Cregan sat in the dining hall and shoveled porridge into his mouth. He and Mecador were scheduled for a training session in the workroom. Learning new ways to use the wand would be of value when they found Arton once the snow melted.

He knew the impossibility of that. He had seen the avalanche, and when the rock fall had ended he hadn’t seen Arton. The certainty of his rival’s death had kept him from performing a wand search.

“Come,” Mecador commanded. He gasped and pressed his hands against the table. His pale coloring turned a ruddy red. Cregan feared his father would break a blood vessel. “What’s wrong?”

The chief wizard shook his head. “I felt a burst of energy from a fyrestone as strong a usage as any I’ve ever sensed.”

“From where?” Excitement bubbled in Cregan’s thoughts. Did this mean his rival lived?

“Must be Arton, and he has learned a way to increase his power,” Mecador said.

“How do you know?”

“One of the skills I planned to teach you is how to know when a wand is being used. Since he is the only living wizard who isn’t in the citadel, he has to be the wielder.”

Cregan nodded. “Knowing when wands are used must be a useful skill.”

The chief wizard nodded. “We must strengthen all your abilities so you can defeat him.”

Cregan stared at the floor. Not just Arton. He would defeat his father and rule the council. He looked up and smiled. “I’m ready to learn all you can teach me.”

Chapter Eight

Lorana laughed with joy. She sat at the edge of the pool and opened her mind to Dragon. His babbling words told her how much better he felt. His hide appeared darker amber than the pale yellow she remembered. The gray cast had vanished. She closed the connection before her head burst from sharing his elation.

A short time later he called her name.

‘Yes.’

‘The broken bones in my wings are mended.’

‘I’m happy for you.’

‘I am stronger than when I first woke from the deep sleep. Almost as strong as the days when I was young and green. How is my color?’

She told him about the change. She rose.
‘We must decide what we’ll do when winter ends. I doubt the wizards will remain in their citadel.’
The scrape of boots on the stone caused her to turn.

Lorana frowned. How long had she and Dragon been sharing joyful thoughts? Where had Arton gone?

“How is Dragon?”

Lorana smiled. “You’ve restored him. Can’t you see how wonderful he looks?”

Arton clasped her hand. “I’ve never seen a dragon before I entered his cave. His hide is different from the yellow of my cloak.” He drew her from the poolside. “What will you do when winter ends?” He touched Dragon’s hide with his other hand.

‘Protect Lorana and myself. Even though you are a wizard, I will spread my wings over you. I owe you that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘When winter ends Lorana and I will leave these caverns. We are not sure where we will go.’

‘When will you leave?’
Arton asked.

‘Winter has just arrived. We will wait until the first day of spring. We have time to consider where.’
Lorana eased her hand from Arton’s to speak to Dragon alone.
‘We must speak later.’
She turned to Arton. “What will you do come spring?”

He sank onto one of the stone ledges. “What will I do? If Cregan lives I must return to the citadel and defeat him. I must prove I’m fit to sit on the council.”

“What’s so important about being on the council?”

Arton looked away. “I’m not of the blood. Every day Cregan and Mecador reminded me of how lacking I am. I must show my control of the wands is as good as or better than theirs.”

Lorana left the pool cave and walked to the outer one to tend the fire. She could understand Arton’s need to prove himself to the men who had raised him. She stirred the coals and added wood.

A short time later Arton joined her at the fire. Lorana had brought a haunch of meat from the cold room to thaw. She looked up and saw his unbraided hair and knew he had plunged into the pool.

He moved to her side. “You will return to the citadel with me.”

She edged toward Dragon. “There is no way I will go there. I would rather climb the mountains the way Dragon’s people did and die in the attempt.”

Arton crouched in front of her. “Why are you afraid of the citadel? I can protect and keep you safe.”

Lorana shuddered. Neither he nor any man could protect her from the chief wizard. Why had she and Dragon helped him after he’d stumbled into their hiding place? She drew away. “I won’t be your slave or one to any man and be forced to do what my master or the chief wizard decrees.”

“Slave? How can you believe having all your needs provided is slavery?”

“There is no freedom.” His expression showed he had no idea of life in the hareem. She jumped to her feet. “Hag Mother controls the women’s lives with the rules the chief wizard proclaims. He tells her what each of us must to do to earn porridge and thin soup and stew. If a woman doesn’t obey she is flogged. Only women of the lineage have any degree of freedom.”

His forehead wrinkled. “But you will be mine. No man can touch you without my permission.”

His comment triggered a moment of hysterical laughter. She sucked in air. “How do you know you’ll win? Mecador told me Cregan would be my owner.”

Arton grasped her shoulders. “He is wrong. My wands have more power now. Cregan doesn’t stand a chance.”

She jerked free. “Don’t you know the chief wizard can order all the slave women to his rooms? Only women of the kin can’t be touched without agreeing. He said no matter who wins the duel he will school me and the winner will watch.”

Arton wheeled and strode into the inner tunnels. “I don’t understand how he can do what you say. You will be mine.”

Lorana watched him retreat. Why couldn’t he see what the wizards did to those under their control? He wasn’t of the kin though he’d lived and trained with them since he had been a young child. She leaned against Dragon.
‘We must make our own plan for winter’s end. We can’t depend on him.’

‘We will plan, and we will give him time to change his mind.’

Though a strong bond had formed when she’d tended Arton after the fyrethorn poisoning, she had to remember he belonged to the enemy. Could he change?