She rummaged in search of the pocket crystal. “Can’t we have the light?” Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness enough to see a shadow of Orman’s face, but madness had begun a slow and ominous churn through the back of her mind.
“Almost emptied. The weaker the crystal, the more often I have to recharge its energy.”
“But Kallon will be here soon, and we’ll be released. We only need a little more of it.”
Orman shifted in the darkness, but didn’t reply.
“At least keep talking to me, then.” Her voice squeaked high. “Talk to me about the crystals.” Anything. Just keep the shadows away.
“Very well,” said Orman. “I have no student, as Kallon has resisted my teachings for years. Consider yourself his replacement.”
“Really? You’ll teach me about magic?”
“Yes. If…” he said, tapping a crooked finger on her nose. “…if you have it within you to learn.”
She drew in a deep breath. “I want to learn.”
He slapped his hands together. “Very good. Your first lesson will be an easy one. Remove the light crystal from your pocket.”
She fumbled along the seam. “I don’t feel it.”
“Now there’s an interesting choice of words. You don’t feel it.” Orman leaned so closely that she felt his breath on her face. “Magic is all about feeling. The crystals are only the tools. They gather energy and store it, but it is the wielder of the crystal who must direct that energy.”
“Direct it how?”
“From deep within yourself. We are wellsprings of emotion, each of which evokes real physical reactions in our brains and tissues. This reaction is the catalyst that sends our energy out into the world.” He shifted back. “Now, that seems less like magic and more like science, doesn’t it? But don’t let on. Wizards have too little respect as it is.”
“I won’t.” She was eager to hear more, if only to light the crystal again. “Emotions send out the energy that is stored in the crystal,” she repeated.
“Yes. The energy trapped in the crystal is neutral. The emotion we use to direct that energy, positive or negative, will dictate whether the magic will create and heal, or weaken and destroy. The slightest twinge of anger can make the purest spell go dark.”
“But what if we don’t feel anything at all? Wouldn’t the best spell be the kind untainted by any emotion?”
“That spell would be as dry as a desert, with no energy to go anywhere. You must know your emotions and feel them stronger than ever, but you must control them. Now, reach again for your pocket, and don’t trust your senses. Don’t just feel for your pocket. Feel for it.”
She closed her eyes. Her fingers crawled slowly along the seam. She felt a tingle, like the silent buzz of a bumblebee, and paused. “Something…” she murmured. Her fingers dove into a flap of fabric, and closed around a smooth pebble. “I found it!” She withdrew it, and waved it proudly.
“You’re quick! Now we’ll use what’s left of the crystal’s energy to—”
The scrape of approaching feet cut Orman’s words. He guided her hand to the pocket and urged the crystal again into hiding. “Ssh.”
“Humans,” blared a dragon voice from the opposite side of the door. “Step away and press against the wall!” Riza scrambled to comply, but Orman only planted himself more firmly where he sat. “You are summoned to appear before Council Leader Blackclaw,” said the voice. “You will bind your wrists with these chains.” With a grating squawk, the door swung wide, and metal hit the floor and slid toward them. Riza reached for the chains, but Orman stopped her.
“We’ll do no such thing,” he said. “If Blackclaw wants us bound in chains, he can come in here and do it himself.”
What was Orman doing? Riza opened her mouth to ask, but his grip tightened on her arm.
A moment later, the door slammed closed. Heavy footsteps retreated. Orman released her arm. “Never give them your dignity, child. Always give it a good fight. They’ll be back soon, but don’t be frightened. Whatever happens next, you hold tight to your dignity.”
* * *
“They refuse to chain themselves, Leader Blackclaw.”
Blackclaw pressed a knuckle to his forehead, his teeth grinding, as an incompetent Gray whined about the prisoners. “And this is my concern how?” Did he have to be everywhere, doing everything himself?
A rap at the door echoed through the chamber. Blackclaw looked up to find Whitetail’s jutting head. “We have been contacted,” the advisor said quietly.
Finally. Blackclaw heaved to his feet. “Leave the prisoners to me, I will deal with them. Be gone.” He waved the Gray outside, and beckoned Whitetail to come closer. As the tip of the Gray’s tail disappeared, Whitetail closed the door. “The human dragon hunter?” Blackclaw asked.
“Yes. He is here, awaiting final word near the arena.”
“He certainly took his time. I had begun to think he had run off in shame.”
“I have chosen the target. As the council members filter in this evening for tomorrow’s meeting, I will draw him out for the human.”
“Do not tell me any details. I want my surprise to seem genuine.” Blackclaw stood. “The timing could not be better, I will be able to deal with the prisoners as well, and have this whole fiasco settled nicely by dinnertime tomorrow. Does the hunter know of Redheart, and that we are aware he is alive?”
“I did not mention.”
“Good. Do not. The human Armitage will pay for his carelessness, but first he will serve me. Go give the prisoners a warm meal, and meet me at the arena in one half hour.”
“Very well.” Whitetail moved outside, closing the door behind.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kallon circled for a while over Mount Gore, staring down at the arena, trying to figure out what he was going to say. If he demanded Orman and Riza be released, he would be laughed off the mountain. If he argued in their defense, he might cause them to appear guilty, and only feed the flames already lapping at their withers. Frankly, he didn’t know what he was going to do, short of sneaking into Blackclaw’s manor and stealing them both. How he could manage that was beyond him.
The arena below seemed particularly active. The place was dormant between council meetings, wasn’t it? Yet, he could see the crawling spines of several hues of dragons. From this height they appeared as patches of color, writhing like rainbow larvae in the core of a rotting apple. Was it time for a council meeting? He veered off to land inconspicuously behind the arena.
Hearing voices, he ducked quickly behind the branches of a group of firs. He peered out from behind his cover.
There stood Blackclaw himself, speaking quietly to a White, who nodded and bowed low. Was this his chance to approach? He was still trying to make up his mind when the White shifted aside. Standing between Blackclaw and the White was a human. Armitage.
The urge to charge and trample the human took Kallon’s breath. He gripped a branch and willed himself to stay put. What could the three of them possibly be discussing? Why did Armitage hold a pouch that bore the crest of Mount Gore Manor?
Then Blackclaw snorted and stalked off, his ribs disturbing the low branches of the firs to scatter needles in a grassy shower. Whitetail followed, leaving Armitage alone.
Kallon skulked toward the human, trying to take him by surprise, but Armitage swung to face him, his hand on his sword, before Kallon even got close enough to breathe hot air on his ugly face.
“Well, well,” Armitage said, and relaxed his grip on the sword handle. “You do have a gift for entering in the middle of a show.”
“What show? What business do you have with Blackclaw?”
Armitage flipped the pouch in his hand, and caught it by the strings with a satisfied smile. “I can only guess why you’re here, Red. Seeing as how the girl is on the mountain, it only follows that you would be hanging around, bemoaning your need to play hero again.”
“What do you know of Riza?”
“I know
this time, you’re too late.”
Kallon’s legs tensed.
“Oh, calm down,” said Armitage, and held up a hand. “The girl is my responsibility now, so you don’t have to worry about her. That should make you happy.”
A sound erupted in Kallon’s throat and growled through his words. “You will tell me what you know of Riza.” He shifted a step closer.
“I know she didn’t come cheap.” Armitage slid his money pouch into a hidden pocket in his vest. “It took nearly half my usual payment to free her. Whatever your plans, you needn’t pursue them. Riza will be coming home with me.”
It took all of Kallon’s effort not to engulf the man in flames. “She won’t want to go with you.”
“No?” Armitage took a step closer this time. “Whom do you think she would rather go home with, then, you?” He laughed. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing in your eyes. Are you jealous?”
“I know her better than you. She was cast out by your kind. Made to suffer. All for the simple act of accepting a friend by what she sees in his soul, regardless of the hide he is wrapped in.”
He sneered. “I think you’re more than jealous. I think you love her. I’m going to be sick.”
“What do you know of love, human?” Kallon roared, coating the man with haze.
“What I know is the deeper you feel it, the more painful your grief when it’s stolen! I hope against rational thinking that you are one creature among your kind that can feel love, Red. I hope you love her, and that you spend the rest of your days grieving for her while she forgets you and bears my children!”
Kallon lunged, his vision stained red. He swung his claws, but felt only air. Suddenly, a stab of pain cleared his senses. He froze. The tip of the human’s sword was wedged between the scales of his throat.
“Kill me, and she will never see the light of day again,” said Armitage. “I am her freedom now. Not you.”
Kallon couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t control his frenzied heartbeat. He tried to think of Riza. This human knew more about her condition than Kallon, and perhaps the man had made a deal for her freedom. Could he risk destroying that? Kallon stared into the man’s face and quietly despised him.
“You, on the other hand, are quite expendable,” Armitage continued. He shifted his grip on the end of his sword, eyes flashing with death.
Behind them, a bleat rang out from arena. Neither of them moved. It bleated again. It was the ceremony horn, calling for the assembly.
Jastin cursed. “How you manage it I don’t know!” His glare burned into Kallon’s eyes. Kallon returned the bitter stare. “Soon your invisible guardian, or whatever it is that keeps you alive, will misstep.” He lowered the blade. “This sword will be your destroyer. On my oath.”
“Fate will take me when it will. If your weapon is the tool, so be it.” Kallon breathed a coil of smoke into the man’s face that slithered around his throat and dissipated. “But not today, human.”
Armitage stabbed his sword into its sheath. “Tonight the woman will be mine, dragon! I will have her, not you!” He disappeared into the foliage.
Kallon gripped the earth to stop shaking. He didn’t even know where his words had come from. He didn’t believe in fate! He didn’t believe in magic, or invisible guardians, or in the place beyond the limits of sky where dead dragons lived on.
Warmth against his collarbone drew his eyes downward. His linking stone glowed so brightly that it cast a white sheen to the ground, even in the light of pale dusk. He wrapped his clawed digits around the shimmering crystal, and somehow, he felt less alone.
A snort caught his attention. He slid back into the trees to hide.
“Nothing but more of the same rhetoric, I am convinced.” Kallon peered out to find a Blue speaking to a Gray. “I do not even know why I waste my time coming. There is talk, but no action!”
The Gray replied. “I will try to speak with Blackclaw during the opening ceremonies. If he does not address our concerns, I will make the motion.” The Gray’s wings scraped past the branches of Kallon’s cover. “Hurry, they have already sounded the horn.”
Kallon lost sight of the pair. Their footfalls grew softer and softer until they were gone.
Kallon used to feel so proud watching his father during the opening ceremonies on the night before each council meeting. His father would carry in the colors of the tribe and place them in the coveted center of the presentation stand. Banners of every tribe would line up in brilliant, fluttering array, and for as long as memory served them all, red had been the prominent leader. But not tonight. Tonight, the presentation stand would hold black in its center.
Tonight! Of course! The manor would be deserted. No dragon on Mount Gore was allowed to miss opening ceremonies. At least, that’s the way it used to be. Kallon had no idea where Riza and Orman were being kept, but he’d lived there, once. If he snuck in, he ought to remember his way around.
He eased out of the mass of trees and carefully picked his way past the arena toward the manor. When darkness finally fell, he would slip inside. He hoped more than anything that he would find Orman and Riza before Armitage had a chance to touch her.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The girl comes with me.” The voice sounded into the darkness from the other side of the door like the low peal of a massive bell.
“Orman?” Riza reached for the wizard and clung to his arm.
“Now,” said the voice. A grind of metal slid open the grate on the door. Torchlight spilled in through the slats to cast flickering rectangles of yellow-orange to the floor.
“Orman, I’m afraid,” she whispered. She felt the familiar touch of wrinkled fingers on her hands. Were they trembling?
“Come with me now and you will not be harmed.” The voice sounded oddly patient. Not the usual snarl of the voice that brought food. She looked toward the door.
“Maybe Kallon is here,” she said to Orman. “Maybe they’re going to take me to him.”
“Just remember what I told you. Dignity. You keep your chin high,” said Orman. He peeled her fingers from his arm and nudged her toward the door.
She crawled on stiff hands and knees. If she were nearing freedom, why did her heart grow heavier the closer she drew? She kept moving, but her weary arms and legs propelled her slowly, resisting. Then the torchlight bathed her face and stung her eyes.
“Open the door.” She saw the movement of a white jaw through the grate as the voice spilled in again.
She managed to climb to her feet, and pressed herself against the door. It wouldn’t budge. “I can’t.”
“Come now,” wagged the jaw. “Give a push.”
She pushed. She grunted. The door gave by an inch and stuck fast again. “I can’t!”
“Very well. Give another shove, and I will help you.”
If the white dragon on the other side of the door wanted to help so badly, why didn’t he just do it himself? She was about to ask just that, when a quick flash of green startled her. The bitter taste of sulfur stung her mouth.
“Well? Go on,” urged the jaw.
She sighed and pressed her palms to the door. The door gave way and slammed to the floor in a thud that rocked the walls. Granite dust billowed.
“There, you see?” The white dragon grinned, his paw waving at the filtering dust. “No need to look so frightened. I am taking you to a friend.”
Riza sucked in a breath. “He came? He’s here?”
“He is anxious to see you, and we are anxious to be rid of you.” An eyelid as big as her fist wrinkled up in a wink. “Watch your step. We must be quiet.”
Her strength redoubled at the thought of seeing Kallon again. She scrambled over the door and followed the dragon. “What about Orman?” she asked. “Why isn’t he coming with us?”
“The wizard was not negotiated.”
“Not negotiated? Why not?” Why wouldn’t Kallon have tried to free Orman, too? The dragon stopped and held up a paw in warning. She stopped, too.
“Guide me where? Can’t I take Orman, too? Where am I going?”
The dragon smiled, and patted a scaly palm on top of her head. “So many questions. Such a poor time to ask them. Rush now. Turn left, then right and look for a torch in the trees to the east. Go.”
“But I—”
“Go, girl!”
She darted into the hallway. She didn’t want to leave Orman, but perhaps Kallon had a plan, and knew what he was doing. Perhaps two prisoners at once were too much to ask. Poor Orman. She hoped he would be released soon, too.
She paused at the next hallway convergence. Left, then right. She inched around the corner to the right and found the exit, looming like the open mouth of a hungry beast. She couldn’t see the arena from this distance, but she could hear it. The thrum of distant voices filtered through the trees and carried fear to her feet.
She glanced back from where she came. The white dragon trailed behind. He nodded and flicked his paws, shooing her toward the night. “Thank you,” she called quietly.
He stopped. “Do not thank me. Just go.”
She ran. Outside, she stumbled on weak legs and nearly fell. How long had she been cramped in that dank prison? One day? Two? Maybe more. Time had lost its meaning in the blackness.
She veered for the trees, searching for the promised torch to guide her. Just as she reached the branches of the tree line, she heard the voice of the white dragon again. This time, he shouted. “The human girl has escaped!”
Did she hear that right? She pushed away the limbs blocking her view and stared at the dragon some yards away on the top step. He spotted her. He shooed her again toward the trees, then cupped his paws around his mouth. “She has escaped!”
Where was Kallon? Where was the torchlight that was supposed to lead her to him? She didn’t know, and didn’t understand what was happening. But when a rush of angry voices surged toward her, she knew enough to run. She dove into the forest.
Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) Page 17