Dragonfire: Freedom in Flames (Secrets of the Makai Book 3)

by Toni Kerr

  When he looked back at the mother, she was staring at him lazily.

  “I have to go. If I see you again, please remember I mean you no harm.” He was sounding more and more like Donovan; the thought made him a bit homesick. He would not let himself forget the people he knew. “Be well,” Molajah would say.

  The mother put her head back down. Tristan had to laugh. She probably had no clue what he was saying, and wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest if he never came back. These were human emotions that didn’t belong in the wild. Weren’t they?

  He took a few steps back and turned to walk away, studying the horizon. Where would he go? The only place to get a better view of the land was straight up.

  The nearest mountains were closer than he would have guessed. He circled high above the mother and her cubs once, just to make sure there were no predators lurking nearby. What did a mountain lion have to fear out in the wild? Not much, probably. In fact, she probably felt pretty safe knowing the dragon in the area wasn’t a threat to her or her babies.

  Tristan laughed at himself. Victor and Landon would think it was funny. He would not forget them.

  Jacques. Home.

  His wings ached, even though the hot air rising from the desert made gliding unexpectedly easy. On the mountains ahead, there were trees and more greenery, and hopefully watering holes to drink from. The thermals giving him lift suddenly vanished and he plummeted several feet before catching himself.

  Had he actually been dozing off in the air?

  He shook off the sleep and landed roughly in the sage to give his wings a break. The mountains were barely visible from down here. Yet they seemed so close from the air. He could have sworn they were no more than a mile or two... but zigzagging through the sage seemed so pointless.

  Tristan dropped to his knees and lay down within a few steps, pushing himself into the shade as much as he could. When he opened his eyes again, it was dark and one of the kittens was batting at his eyelashes.

  Tristan tried not to laugh, and failed. “What are you doing here?”

  A second kitten was near his feet. “Where’s the third?” His eyes shifted immediately and he sensed the mother cat a good five miles out, though he couldn’t tell if she was coming or going. He tucked the kittens into his shirt and flew to meet her. How did she even find him?

  He landed in front of the cougar and took the kitten from her mouth before realizing she might object. He put the shivering kitty in his shirt with the others. “There. Now you’re all together and safe.”

  Tristan’s gaze shifted to the mother, who seemed preoccupied with something in the distance. Tristan rolled his eyes. “Fine. Go hunt or whatever and find me in the morning.”

  She leaped into action and ran away.

  Tristan frowned. “Seriously? You’re going to leave your babies with the dragon?” He laughed at himself again. What better place was there? “Fine. I’ll babysit. But I’m not walking.” He’d flown the entire way and she found him—he had no doubt she could find him again.

  The flying was tougher, without the heat waves pushing him upward, but he made it to the base of the mountain within an hour and set up camp in the first grassy area he came to. He’d let the mother decide where to go from here, being she must know things about the land that he did not.

  “Is anyone awake?” Tristan asked, hoping something from the plant kingdom was nocturnal. “I’m looking for water. Any tips?”

  No one answered.

  Tristan closed his eyes and smelled for dampness. There was certainly more moisture in the air than there’d been in the middle of the desert. He collected the kittens and followed his nose. In less than a mile, he came to a dried creek bed. “Well that’s helpful.”

  Up the hill along the riverbed, many heat signatures scampered about the landscape. He headed up the creek, hoping to find at least a puddle somewhere in the rocks. Finally, driven by curiosity, he set the kittens down and started moving rocks from a wider part of the dry bed. They were damp on the underside, and it didn’t take long before the clinging dirt was muddy, then pooling.

  He could feel rush of running water under the ground, and it didn’t seem out of reach. A chute led upward until it receded too far under the hillside. He focused his attention back on the spot where it was nearest to the ground level.

  What could go wrong? He wasn’t adding water to the environment, just making it flow on the surface instead of under the rocks. In an existing riverbed. And he didn’t have to take all the water available, just divert a small portion to make a watering hole. Like a spring. Dirt would probably cave in and seal it up within a few hours...but meanwhile, they could get a drink.

  He watched the kittens pounce on each other, completely oblivious to the world’s problems, and smiled. The mother really was doing a fine job keeping them healthy and happy. He sat on the bank and they ran toward him, racing into his lap

  He took a calming breath and sent his awareness downward around the chute of water. It would naturally flow down, not up. But it would also take the easiest route, wouldn’t it? How much pressure was pushing the water? Should he make a hole or a crack? On the side, or on the top? Questions, questions. He could always make adjustments....

  He found an existing crack in the rock, where the caking mud was the dampest, and applied pressure against walls of the chute until it caved inward.

  Water shot through the mud, quickly blasting a path to the surface. “Yes!” Tristan leaped to his feet and moved rocks from the spot, making a channel for the water to rise, rather than seek a sideways path.

  Ice-cold water bubbled up from the ground, then shot outward like a blasting fire hydrant. It was a little more water than expected, a lot more actually. But when the pressure evened out, it might be perfect. He scooped up the kittens and put them on the bank, then brought them handfuls of water to drink.

  They were still more interested in playing.

  Tristan stood proud with excitement and watched the raging water. Most of it was seeping back into the ground, but it was also beginning to pool. He knelt and drank. And drank some more.

  The spraying water rinsed the top layer of dust from his arms and his sweat-drenched shirt suddenly stank. It was already mostly ruined, where his wings had torn through, so it didn’t take much to rip it the rest of the way and use it like a wash cloth.

  He rinsed his hair and used the cloth on his wings, though they didn’t take to the cold as well has he did. When he was as clean as he could be, he sat with the kittens and waited.

  All around the expanding pool of water, animals approached to drink. They were tentative at first, probably scared of him, but soon gathered in droves. Mostly little furry creatures—rabbits, mice, ground squirrels. A fox and her pups joined in.

  “Tonight, everyone drinks in peace,” Tristan said over the gushing water. “Got it?”

  Animals came and went for an hour, even the coyotes.

  The mother cat dropped a kitten next to him and pushed him over with her forehead. Tristan laughed as she rubbed her wet nose on his arms and side, settling down when he sat back up. “Watch the sunburn, would you?” he said, grinning. “I told you I’d find water. But no hunting here. Everyone gets water tonight.”

  The cat focused in on three deer who stood frozen in the trees.

  “I’m serious. No hunting.”

  She growled and twitched an ear, then began cleaning the nearest kitten. The deer saw it as a sign and approached the water cautiously.

  “See? We can all get some water and no one has to die.”

  The deer drank from the pool and made room for others. When the cat got to her feet and growled again, the hair on the back of Tristan’s neck bristled.

  Behind him, two kittens were playing with a black bear cub.

  Tristan rushed to protect the black cub. “I mean it!” he said, keeping an eye out for the mother bear while scolding the cat. “Everyone is allowed to drink tonight. Tomorrow, you can all go back to your normal routine
.”

  A huge bear growled from the trees, but made no move to retrieve her baby.

  “My water, my rules,” he tried again. “You’re welcome to the water, but you must come in peace.” He couldn’t tell if he was making sense to the bear or not, and gave up. “You stay put,” he ordered the cat, and hiked up to the black bear with the baby clearly visible in his arms.

  “Come on,” Tristan said, stopping five feet from the bear. “You’re both mothers. You both need water. Surely you can put your territory issues aside for this one night?” He wasn’t sure who was higher on the predatory scale between bears and cougars, but the only rank that mattered was his own, which was certainly higher than both. Because he felt no fear, and sensed plenty from the bear herself.

  Tristan set the cub down and grinned when it called out with a funny croak. He squatted to pet it between the ears and walked away.

  Jacques. Home.

  He would not be here to maintain peace for more than this night. Tomorrow, he’d move on and let nature take its course. The cougar and bear would probably fight over the water, lie in wait to kill unsuspecting animals, and it would be a shame.

  The cat was still sitting where he left her, with her long tail anxiously swatting at the ground. Tristan stopped, turned around, and returned to the mother bear. The cub was lying near her back feet.

  “If you fought the cougar and lost, who would take care of your baby? Whatever respect you have for each other has gotten you both this far, so, I would ask that you don’t risk you or your baby over fighting for this water. You both need it, so you should both bend enough to share it.”

  He hiked back down to the water and was pleased to see that it was staying within the banks of the riverbed, and had started flowing downstream. The geyser effect had also lessened, but due more to the volume of water covering the hole than a slowing water pressure. He plopped down next to the cat and scratched her neck as she stretched out beside him to feed the kittens, then gave her the same lecture about sharing the waterhole.

  If they did fight, would the winner be willing to raise the orphans?

  Jacques. Home.

  Tristan closed his eyes and repeated the words to keep himself from forgetting.

  Maybe on his way out, tomorrow, he would follow the base of the mountain and search for other underwater springs to bring to the surface, so the bear and cougar could be respecting neighbors.

  The cat’s thick tail swatted the ground, getting Tristan’s attention. The bear had circled to the other side of the water, followed by two fluffy cubs, and waded in to drink.

  By dawn, hundreds of animals had visited the spring, and the idea of peace seemed to saturate the area like an unspoken truth. The mother cat had left the kittens with him after the bear wandered off, but was now calling for him somewhere downstream. He gathered the kittens to his chest, along with his T-shirt, and headed toward the sound.

  The cougar stopped pacing when she noticed him.

  Tristan jogged past the trees and flew the rest of the way. Her facial muscles were tight with worry, and when he glanced out into the open desert, he could see why—half a dozen vultures were circling. No matter how well they could all get along for one night, the desert was still a deadly place to be.

  He set the kittens down and let the cat rub against him.

  “I have to go.” He had to find the falcon and get back to his own home before it was too late, and now was a good time to get moving, before the heat of the day set in. “Take care of yourself and the little ones.” He petted each kitten and stood. “You’ve gotten along just fine without me, I’m sure you can handle it from here.”

  He put his forehead against hers and felt honored to rub a bit of his own scent on her. Maybe it would help if she ended up facing the bear without him. “Goodbye, my friend.”

  25

  ALLEGIANCE

  TRISTAN DRIFTED ALONG the base of the mountain to get a better feel for the land before committing to a direction. The cat’s behavior still bothered him. He glanced at the vultures circling in the distance. It seemed too far for any of the animals that had come to the watering hole, so what did it have to do with anything?

  Other than prove there was a natural circle of survival. Animals fed on the weak, the young, the unsuspecting, and dying. Even if they could put aside the hierarchy and share water for one night.

  Jacques. Home.

  Perhaps the way home was up and over the mountain. He would find a road and follow it. Then he could determine what state or country he was in, and make his way from there. It sounded like a reasonable plan, but for some reason, the vultures were distracting him. And yet, he had no desire to see a dying animal. It was probably still alive, because the vultures were circling instead of on the ground feasting.

  The desert heat rose with the sun. What was on the other side of the mountain? An entirely different climate? A different desert? Where did Jacques end up?

  Maybe they lied about Jacques. But if they didn’t....

  The vultures.

  Tristan made a sharp turn and raced for the spot.

  If it was Jacques on the ground, and he was too late to save him, he’d never forgive himself. He pulled and pushed at the wind, determined to beat all the desert scavengers who had seen the vultures’ signal before the mountain lion.

  Distance was such an illusion in the desert; it seemed he would never get any closer. Sweat drenched his skin, and the muscles in his back and wings were burning with fatigue.

  Visions of Jacques being ripped to pieces by vicious creatures who didn’t know better would be a scene that would haunt him forever.

  Maybe this was the worst punishment the council could think of—the knowledge that a handful of kittens could distract him so greatly from his search. And when Jacques was gone, he’d go back to find the bear devouring the mother cat, and the coyotes feasting on her babies.

  The wind blasted his stinging eyes, but his ears perked at the sound of a howl. A call. They’d beaten him here. Maybe that’s why the cat seemed so worried. While he was playing by the water, horrors were already underway.

  A lone coyote tried to outrun Tristan as he dove to attack. Anger flared, until he realized the coyote wasn’t running from the scene—he was running toward it.

  Maybe he wasn’t late? Maybe the howl was a warning to others.

  Tristan rocketed past the four-legged creature and saw five more gathered around what could be a faint life form. It was hard to see heat during the day, when the ground was radiating with it.

  The vultures widened their circle and drifted to a higher elevation.

  He might have missed the spot if the coyotes weren’t sitting in such an odd formation. They remained sitting until he landed. “Get away from him.”

  To his surprise, the coyotes made a path without complaint or hesitation.

  Dark feathers stuck up from a lump in the ground. Tristan brushed away a layer of dusty dirt to confirm his fears. “Jacques?” He knelt beside the falcon and trailed his hand along the bird’s back. Shallow breaths rose and fell, but there was no blood. Nothing looked broken. He gently lifted a wing and put it back in place. The only scent on the bird was from coyote.

  Tristan eyed all the curious dogs. What were they up to? He spotted a small female with the falcon’s scent on her side; she dropped to the ground in a heartbeat and would not look at him. The alpha coyote trotted a giant circle around the entire location.

  They weren’t hunting or waiting for death, they were actively guarding the falcon. The female must have lain beside the bird to keep him warm at night.

  Shame tightened his throat and lungs. How could he jump to such horrible conclusions without knowing the whole story?

  He untucked the torn T-shirt from his waistband and wrapped it carefully around the falcon’s body. Of all the places to find shade, this was by far the best he’d seen in the open desert.

  The sagebrush had thick, healthy leaves, not at all withered like the others. “Ho
w will you survive the winter?” The shrub must have used every ounce of stored energy to reverse the process of going dormant.

  The thinnest branches will be plucked for nests, the larger ones will protect the smaller creatures, and come Spring, when the snow melts, the seeds of others blown beneath me will have the sun they need to sprout anew.

  Tristan nodded, his throat tightening. It was so unexpected. Both brave and selfless. Completely deliberate. “Thank you for doing everything in your power to keep him alive.” He stood with the limp bird and faced the coyotes. “I owe you all an apology for the assumptions I made. I wish I could repay you somehow, for keeping my friend alive and safe for so long. I feel horrible that I didn’t know you would even consider helping me, and you did, without me even asking.”

  If he had better speech-making skills, maybe everyone would understand how much their loyalty and actions had blown him away. Was he even worthy? He never would have found Jacques out here by himself. Even the vultures had taken part to show him the way.

  The desert wasn’t a wild free-for-all, survival of the fittest, like he’d first thought. It was a delicate balance of give and take, with mutual understanding and respect.

  “I—” Tristan glanced at the falcon. He had to get back to the water as quickly as possible. “Thank you for doing so much.” Tristan stepped toward the cowering female and rubbed his hand along her neck. “Especially you.” He smiled when she dared to flick her eyes toward him. “I know it was a group effort, but you played a major role. Thank you.”

  He found the alpha coyote and nodded, offering a look like Donovan might have—a look of mutual respect and equal status. And then he sprang into the air and spread his wings to gain height, careful to keep the falcon protected.

  He aimed for the waterhole and the coyotes called to the sky. Tristan smiled for a brief instant, hoping they were celebrating the success of their mission, but glanced back when the howls and yaps didn’t sound so happy.