Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) (6 page)

A short time later he reached the gate. When he saw one of the younglings acting as gate guard he halted in surprise. “Where are the guards and the wizards who remained?”

The boy pointed. “Out there.”

“Why?”

“She’s gone.”

“Who?”

“The one who was to be the reward.”

Fury settled in his chest. How was this possible? Who was her ally? “Boy, run and fetch them. Mecador will arrive soon. He will demand an explanation.”

While he waited, he examined the road for the arrival of the chief wizard. How had Lorana vanished? She couldn’t manage an escape on her own. She was only a woman.

Moments before Mecador and the others arrived, three wizards of the first rank and all but two of the second reached the gates. Cregan held a wand ready to use. “I’ve been informed Lorana is missing.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms.

Mecador reached his side. “What do you mean she has vanished?”

The fattest of the council members who had stayed behind faced the chief wizard. “We do not know how she escaped.”

Mecador pointed to the guards. “You four take the slaves to the cells. Order Hag Mother to tend and mark them.”

As soon as the line of men entered the citadel, Mecador drew two guards aside. “Go to the harbor. Search the area for signs of her presence.”

Cregan’s forehead wrinkled. “Why?”

“She might try to escape on one of the ships when they arrive for trading.”

Cregan bit his lip and held back words that would anger his father. He thought Lorana was wiser than to make a fool’s choice. The traders were far kin of the wizards.

“Council members, to our chamber.” Mecador gestured to Cregan and Arton. “You will add your power to the search and learn how to use your wands to find a person.”

Cregan grinned. Searches were a technique he wanted to learn. He followed the council members into the meeting room.

The twelve members gathered at the table. Cregan and Arton stood at the foot. “Wands alight,” Mecador ordered. “Candidates, add your power.”

The light from the white fyrestones remained steady. Did Arton’s move or had that been an illusion? The white light from the blended wands made a connection between them. With a sudden flare the lights died.

“We will find her,” Mecador roared. “No reward has ever escaped.”

Four guards appeared in the doorway. Two were men sent to search for Lorana and two were those who watched the shore for traders.

“Two trader ships near the shore. A small boat arrived at the dock. The ships will remain but for two days.”

Mecador lowered his wand. “The search for Lorana must wait. We will prepare for trading.”

Though this choice didn’t please Cregan, his father’s decision was right. The supplies purchased would see them through the winter.

* * *

Arton felt his wand waver and tilt to the east. As he tried to figure what the movement meant, the light in the stone died. So did the stones of the other wizards. He waited for Mecador’s rage to subside.

The guards arrived and shouted the news of the trader’s arrival.

“The search for Lorana must wait,” Mecador said. “We must prepare for trading.”

The announcement shocked Arton, but he knew the chief wizard had made the right decision. Without the goods received the people of the citadel might starve come winter.

Arton left the council room and hurried to the basement pens, where Hag Mother attended to the bout losers. His prisoners had been washed and their tanned skin oiled to enhance their muscular bodies. All wore breechcloths and each bore a tattoo of a wand on his chest. Arton arranged them in a row and checked their sandals to make sure of a proper fit. He wanted no injuries to bring down their value.

He climbed the stairs from the gloomy basement. He encountered one of the guards who had remained. “I have some questions about Lorana.”

“Can’t tell you more than I told the wizards when questioned under the wand. They spoke to all here and no one knew a thing.”

“I understand, but your answers might help when the search resumes. Mecador won’t let this go. When did she leave?”

“Maybe two days ago. Hag Mother was livid. The entire citadel was searched. Then the questioning began.”

Arton frowned. “Was a search of the grounds made?”

“Twice.”

“How did she leave the citadel?”

“Remains a mystery. The gate was locked. If dragons still existed one could have swooped in and carried her away.”

“There are no dragons in this land. Are there secret passages in the citadel?”

The guard shrugged. “If there are none has been found since the wizards arrived and slew the dragons and their riders.”

“Thanks for the information.” Though he hadn’t learned much, he did know she hadn’t been gone for long. How far could she have traveled in two days? He strode away and wondered where she could have gone. Before long winter would bring cold winds from the north. She must be found before then. He doubted she survive when snow and ice covered the ground.

He ate a light meal of meat, cheese, bread, and fruit they’d brought from the gathering. When he finished he joined the other wizards in the outer courtyard. The slaves and carts of other trading goods were assembled there. To Arton’s surprise and anger two of the four young women taken for the hareem were added to Cregan’s two slaves.

Though he knew the reason for the unfairness, anger churned in his gut. A complaint wouldn’t work. Mecador favored Cregan. Arton led his four slaves from the citadel and down the road paved with slabs of stone. The ruts on the surface showed how long the road had been used. Green tufts appeared where the stones had cracked. Low bushes of spira lined the sides of the road. In the spring, lace flowers covered the bushes and filled the air with a sweet aroma.

When Arton saw the white sails of the ships his excitement grew. He had four slaves and he wanted to fill four darts with goods. He and his slaves reached the shore of sand and rocks. He led them to the long stone building where trading would take place.

Mecador entered the building and spoke to the ship captains and the cargo masters. He signaled Arton. “Captain Caug and Cargo master Magon will deal with you. Trade well.”

Arton nodded to the two men. Since he had never traded before, he hoped he appeared confident. The men followed him outside so they could view the slaves in the bright light of the sun. He noticed the other captain and cargo master stood with Cregan.

The bargaining began. Arton traded the first man for a cartload of cloth and metal tools. The second brought the beans to make the bitter brew, and grain. For the third he received a cart of assorted items like spices and seasonings. He prayed his fourth slave would be worth another cartload.

“I have something special,” the cargo master said. He pulled a sack from his belt. “These may be the last fyrestones we’ll ever have for trade. They are only found on this island. The priestesses of the Temple of Fyre have barred traders from their land. What will the wizards do when there are none to power their wands?”

The latent power of the stones in the pouch shocked Arton. He sank to his knees. His thoughts spun like a whirlpool threatening to pull him into the roiling water.

“Fyrestones are found in mountainous areas. We will hunt the hills and mountains for the stones. Others will be found.”

The captain laughed. “Are there many among you who are willing to go into mines to dig?” He patted Arton’s shoulder. “No matter. Let us show you these stones. Supreme suspects we have them. He’ll trade with us if you won’t, but he will not be happy when there are other things he desires.”

Though Arton sensed the power in the stones, he had to see them. The wizards only wanted white fyrestones but he sensed them all. He knelt and put a cloth on the ground. “Show me.”

The cargo master poured a cascade of stones, mostly white but with a few colored stones in the mix. Arton gasped. There must be more than a hundred whites.

“What do you want for them?”

“Your last slave,” the captain said.

Arton frowned. “There are still things I’d like to obtain. Several bottles of the spirits the hareem women use to make medicines would be good.”

The cargo master nodded. “We could do that. And to sweeten the deal I’ll add two bolts of cloth for the hareem women.” He pointed to a dark blue and a dark brown.

Arton nodded. Though he wouldn’t feel the fourth cart he thought the stones would make his score high enough to win. If not there would be a tie. He stooped to gather the stones into the pouch keeping five white and all the colored stones for himself. He carried the remaining stones to his carts and buried them beneath his other purchases. He walked to the bonfire on the beach for a heated drink and to watch the trade for the cordial and the poison.

Mecador’s skill amazed Arton. He obtained everything on a huge list. When he finished he raised his hands. “Let the celebration begin.” He opened a bottle of spirits.

Before long that bottle and a number of others made the rounds. Arton only took a small swig. He intended to sleep beside his carts this night to guard his goods.

Huge fish sizzled on spits over the flames. Sailors, wizards and guards feasted. He noticed the resemblance between the traders and the wizards. Both had glacial gray eyes and hair so fair the strands appeared white. Were they far kin? Had they had a good or bad parting?

He finished all the fish he’d taken from the spit and moved to lean against one of his carts of goods and to watch wizards, guards, and traders wander drunkenly along the beach. Clouds covered the moon. Tomorrow they would return to the citadel. Then the search for Lorana would begin.

In the morning Arton drank three cups of the bitter brew to wash down fish and flatbread. He stretched and brushed off his clothes. The moans and groans of the others made him smile. He was glad he hadn’t indulged in the spirits as heavily as most of the others had.

He checked the contents of his carts. All remained,, including the large pouch of white fyrestones he grabbed the handle of the first cart and gestured to two of the guards. After using his wand to cure their headaches, they pulled the carts onto the road. He took the rear position. He wondered why they didn’t use the burden beasts either to pull the carts or to carry packs. A better way of transporting the goods than pulling the carts. Once or twice he used his wand to move the carts over obstacles where the road had been damaged. With stronger wands they wouldn’t have to work so hard.

By the time he and his goods reached the citadel the sun had set. The council and Hag Mother stood in the courtyard and rated the goods. Arton feared he was behind his rival in the value of his trades. When he added the fyrestones the council members gasped.

Mecador rose. “Once again Cregan and Arton are tied. Tomorrow there will be another test announced. You are dismissed.”

Arton rushed to his suite. The unfairness of the trading mission angered him. By allotting Cregan two of the women slaves, his rival had received as much value from his trades as Arton had. Though protests had lingered on his tongue, he had no recourse other than acceptance.

Would the next test be hunting for Lorana? If so, her caring for him after the poisoning gave him an edge. So did the taste of her lips he’d stolen.

* * *

Lorana watched the wizards return from trading with the slavers. Some broken branches provided a clear view of the citadel. She should have departed last night, but she’d been so tired she hadn’t been able to force herself from the tangle.
And afraid.
She had never been alone in a place she didn’t know. Tonight clouds hid the moon. She drew a deep breath. Fear of facing the unknown had to end. The dragon waited for her.

She organized all she’d taken from the storeroom. To make travel easier she had donned the trousers and tunic she’d taken from Arton’s room. She had a second set she’d found in the storeroom. She filled the travel pack and had items left.

Lorana tore her dress and used material from the skirt to make sacks to carry the things she would eat first. She cut several lengths and braided them to make a belt. She hung a pouch with the metal balls for the sling, a knife, and a fire starter on the braided cloth. The blanket would double as a cape. She pushed the pack with the attached cloth sacks ahead of her through the tangle.

Her gleanings of food should last a seven day or more. She had no idea how far she had to travel to reach the dragon. She emerged from the fyrethorn bushes and hoisted the pack to her back. The desert or the hills? Where was the dragon?

Though she hadn’t spent much time at home exploring the hills, she decided that would be her direction.
‘Dragon, I’m coming.’

Lorana’s heart thundered as she walked away from the citadel. The clouds covering the moon gave her hope she could climb far enough to avoid capture. She planned to find a hiding place, sleep and set out again. Before long she hoped to change her travel to the day without risk of being seen. Night travel and the sounds foreign to her memories frightened her.

She stopped at intervals to rest. All the days spent in the hareem had weakened her. She didn’t move as fast as she wanted. Each time she stopped she called Dragon and heard no response.
Was this a fool’s trip?