Dragon's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 4)

by D J Salisbury

  Whatever happened to that pillow? She’d look for it next time they stopped.

  Driving through the burned forest was creepy. Even scary, though she’d never admit it out loud. But who could fight something as big as a forest fire?

  Husks of charred trees hung over her like ghouls haunting a cemetery, but they looked more like ginormous, burned-up match sticks. A whole forest of burnt matches. Just seeing them made her feel sick.

  But life was already coming back. Birds flitted from branch to blackened branch, singing like it was all green and glorious. A fox trotted by with some­thing in its mouth. A rat? Or a baby fox?

  Maybe mama fox was taking her baby back to their den. She liked the idea that any baby survived to grow up and run wild.

  She wished she could run, wild or not. Driving the miswoven wagon was boring boring boring.

  Tsai finally rode back from checking the path. “Everything looks good all the way to the lake.” She wiped the hatchet against her leg, smearing plant blood all down her trousers.

  What lake? She never noticed it. Some scout she was. Maybe the light hit it wrong from the top of the mountain. “We gonna get there before dark?”

  “Pretty sure you will.” Tsai reined Sumach around. “I’m going back to rustle up some food. It’s all green down there. The horses will eat good, even if we don’t.”

  Lorel waved at Tsai’s back and shouted, “Go catch some fish.”

  Laughter drifted back to her.

  Forever and a hundred years later, the horses rambled out of the burnt wasteland into a forest so green it made her eyes hurt. Bushes covered in white flowers crowded the path. Wilting leaves were piled at both ends of a green tunnel. Tsai must’ve chopped at them all day to open a way for the miswoven wagon.

  Eventually the horses trudged through the leafy tunnel into orangy light that nearly blinded her. But the sky was all purple. What caused the light? Please, not another forest fire.

  She couldn’t hardly breathe until she figured out it wasn’t fire.

  Sunset glittered off a lake bigger than all of Zedista. Cattails lined the edges, and pond lilies dotted the middle. She almost pulled the team to a halt just so she could admire it.

  But once the nags stopped, there’d be no moving them again, and this was a crappy place to camp. She’d follow Tsai’s chopped-out trail and hoped the girl found a good place to stop for the night.

  Tsai didn’t let her down. Sumach was tied to a bush at the edge of a meadow, and grazing fit to make herself fatter than the Nashidran empress. A pile of wood waited next to a bunch of rocks arranged like a fire pit. They’d have dinner going in no time.

  If Tsai’d found anything to eat. Lorel surely hadn’t. Not inside the burned-out forest. And all the trees looked weird here. Not at all like the forest above Zedista. Not that she knew what to eat there, either, but at least the kid had told her their names.

  She had to get the kid back. He knew all the important stuff, like what tasted good and what gave her the squirts. The blood-woven toad pretended it didn’t know any of that stuff. Though it had warned her not to eat those berries.

  Maybe she oughta listen to the toad when it bothered to tell her stuff like that.

  Shrill twitters dove at her. A whole bunch of little birds swarmed her. Tiny birds, not even big enough to bake into a pie. She’d need to catch hundreds of them to fill her up. Not worth plucking that many feathers.

  But they were kinda pretty, all gold and blue with black stripes. And funny, swirling around her head like thread around a spindle, her mom’s favorite image of good luck.

  Weaver knew she needed good luck these days.

  They flew even closer. Maybe they did bring her luck.

  She raised her hands and laughed.

  A bird darted in and pecked her hand.

  Hey, that hurt. “Cut it out, Loom lint.”

  Another fraying bird zipped in and pecked her head. A third tugged at her hair and flew off with a strand.

  Weaver’s chamberpot. Would they snatch her baldheaded? “Go away, you Loom-breakers. What you gonna do with my hair, anyway?” She waved the reins and both arms over her head.

  The miswoven birds flew closer.

  She tried to snatch one out of the air. Missed.

  The team staggered into a trot.

  She like to bounced clear off the seat. “Slow down, nags. We’re all too tired for that crap.” And her tail hurt too much. She tugged gently on the reins.

  Both horses blew out snot, but slowed to a walk.

  The birds twirled above her head, but as soon as she passed a big old tree, they darted away. Into the tree, it looked like.

  Maybe the fraying birds thought she’d planned to raid their treehouse. Not a chance. Birds that small never laid eggs big enough to eat.

  Though she wouldn’t mind collecting a bunch of their feathers. Maybe a skull or two. The kid always got a kick outta that sort of crap.

  She parked the wagon a few feet from the woodpile – on the far from the birds’ tree – and jumped down to unharness the team.

  Where was Tsai? She usually helped with grooming the nags.

  Lorel combed both roans and set them free to graze. Still no Tsai. Had the girl hurt herself?

  Might as well have a look around. She didn’t want her friend laying in the dirt somewhere if she needed help.

  Just before the sun vanished behind the mountains, she saw a short girl standing knee deep in the water. “What on the Loom are you doing?”

  Tsai glanced up and grinned. “Fishing, like you told me to.” She held up a string of three wiggly fish. “Not having as much luck as I’d like. Fish act different here than they do in the swamps.”

  Lorel’s mouth was watering already. “What’re you using for bait?”

  “These.” Tsai lifted her free hand and waggled her fingers. “Fish think they’re worms, and I grab them by the gills.”

  Weird. And way too much work. Not to mention she’d been bit plenty times for one day. She didn’t need fish-bite bruises, too. “Let’s get back to camp before it gets any darker.” And before she got hungry enough to chew one up raw.

  She had to rummage through the dark wagon to find a couple of the kid’s matches. She hoped she found the rest of his stash soon. The box was pretty empty.

  Tsai grabbed the matches out of her hand faster than a Zedisti pickpocket. What? Didn’t the girl trust her to make a fraying fire?

  Lorel gutted the fish, far away from the wagon like the kid always asked her to. She kinda missed his nagging.

  Tsai got the fire started and pulled a skillet out of the trunk. “We have any grease left?”

  “We don’t need it.” The wagon was too dark to find anything anyhow. “I’ll cook them without it.”

  Tsai glared at her. “I’m cooking them. All of them. Burnt fish is sickening.”

  What an insult. “I never burned a fish yet.”

  “Only because Viper never let you cook one.” Tsai pointed at the miswoven wheelbarrow. “Find the grease.”

  “You better pray we got some left. You use too much of that crap.” Lorel stomped over to the wagon and up to the platform, but paused before she slid under the door. “Hold a torch up to the window, would you? I can’t see nothing in there.”

  Tsai yanked a branch out of the fire and held the fiery end up high. “Hurry so I don’t burn the whole forest down.”

  Lorel shuddered. Just what they needed. “Not funny.” She slid under the door, inched over to the food cabinet, and searched through the tubs. Empty. Empty. Empty. Why did the kid save all these empty casks?

  Finally she lifted a small one with a little heft to it. The lid was oily. It would do.

  She eased under the fraying door and held the little jug up high. “Catch.”

  Tsai squeaked. “Don’t throw it, you slime-eating tree lizard. Don’t you know what happens when oil hits fire?”

  “I was only fooling.” Weaver’s cold toes, a girl couldn’t have no fun no
more. She slid down from the driver’s seat and presented the oily little cask like it was the imperial jewels. “Your grease, my lady.”

  “Silly goose.” Tsai wrenched up the lid and sniffed at it. “Smells fine. I was worried it was going rancid. But there’s not much left.”

  “I can cook without it.”

  “You can’t cook anything I want to eat.” Tsai smeared a tiny fingertips’ worth onto the skillet. “I hope that’s enough to keep the fish from sticking.”

  Oh. That’s what grease was for. She always thought it was for flavor.

  Turned out Tsai was a decent cook once she really tried. The fishes’ skins were pretty burned, but the insides were flaky and delicious. Boney, though. Weaver drowned in tears, Lorel never guessed a fish held so many bones. Took her so long to suck on them all, she was hungry again before she finished munching on the second one.

  It suddenly occurred to her that Tsai only ate one. “I’m such a pig. Sorry.”

  “Not to worry.” Tsai shrugged and poked at the dying fire. “I’ll try again in the morning. With a little luck we’ll have a big breakfast.”

  “I’ll look for food, too.” Not that she knew what she was looking for. She should’ve paid more attention to the kid. He told her over and over, but she always counted on him to find berries and green stuff. She’d pay for being lazy now. Maybe enough of his chatter sunk in that she’d recognize something foodish come morning.

  Mosquitoes buzzed around her ears. Bats dove in after the bugs. A blood-woven bug bit her face.

  She slapped her forehead and felt bug goo on her hand. “Maybe we should go inside.”

  Tsai groaned, but stood up.

  Something howled.

  “Don’t tell me the fraying serdil are still following us.” She had enough pelts stashed away to make a hundred fur coats.

  “It might be.” Tsai cocked her head. “Sounded a long way away, though. Hey, what’s that?”

  Frantic rustling, swishing noises headed their way. Sounded like a whole pack of serdil was trying to crawl into camp on their bellies. But not even serdil were dumb enough to think that would fool anyone.

  “What is that?” Lorel leapt to her feet. Both of them drew their swords.

  The stupid legless lizard slithered into camp like its tail was on fire. All twenty or thirty feet of it.

  “Oh, it’s just you.” Lorel sheathed her sword. “You’re gonna get yourself killed, toad.”

  Sword still in her hand, Tsai backed away from the overgrown wiggler. “What’s wrong? Are we under attack?”

  “This one–” It collapsed next to the fire and panted like it’d run a hundred miles. A good trick for a beastie without no legs.

  She fought not to laugh at the silly critter. “Spit it out, toad.”

  It slowly curled up into a knot. “This one cannot intuit the hatchling’s consciousness.”

  Wait. Something was wrong with the kid? “Little words, toad.”

  It closed its eyes. “This one cannot perceive the hatchling’s presence. This one is apprehensive the hatchling has perished.”

  Those were little words? But their meaning– “You’re scared he’s dead?”

  Tsai groaned, shoved her sword into its scabbard, and hid her face in her hands.

  No time for displays of weakness right now. She had to get the truth out of the slithering toad. “But are you sure he’s dead?”

  The wiggler opened one eye. “This one is certain of nothing beyond the lack of connection.”

  That almost made sense, if she didn’t think about it too hard. “I say we keep going. I ain’t ready to give up yet.” She turned to Tsai. “You can take the wagon on to Noran and wait for me there.”

  “No way.” Tsai straightened up and glared. “I’m with you all the way.”

  Too bad. She really wanted to get rid of that miswoven wheelbarrow.

  Kyri-thing reared up like somebody pinched its butt. “The connection with the hatchling recommences, albeit intermittently. Is it conceivable that the hatchling is shielding its awareness?”

  She had a feeling that gibberish wouldn’t never boil down to words that made sense. “So the kid’s alive?”

  “This one opines the hatchling survives.” The slithering toad coiled up like it suddenly remembered it oughta show a little dignity. Who’d’ve guessed a snake could act like a fussy old granny who’s favorite shawl had gone missing? “This one is prepared to journey onward.”

  “In the morning, toad.” It was so dark right now, she could barely see the wagon. Getting inside and finding her bed without tripping over nothing was gonna be a pain. “And not until we catch breakfast.”

  Tsai’s belly growled so loud, they all heard it. “Sorry.”

  “No way. I ate my share, and most of yours.” Lorel turned back to the toad. “If you want us to hurry, you gotta help us find food.”

  The legless lizard slumped down again. “This one will endeavor to be of assistance.”

  Hmm. ‘Will’ meant ‘yes’, usually. The snaky body said ‘no’. She’d be interested to see what it actually did.

  Blood in the Weave. She was starting to sound like the kid. Was that a good thing?

  She kinda doubted it. Not if she wanted anything to get done.

  Chapter 9.

  Dawn colors traced a dim, mottled pattern on the cavern wall.

  What was wrong with this picture? Hadn’t he crawled inside the nasty fungus bed before he fell asleep? He was certain he had. And he’d never sleepwalked before getting kidnapped.

  His warm, wine-red ‘mattress’ gurgled.

  It was a thundering odd situation. This was the third – or fourth? he lost track – time he’d woken up on the dragon’s belly without knowing how he got there. Made him a bit suspicious. What would she do if he just lay there until she woke up?

  He didn’t want to find out. It was bad enough she treated him as some­thing between a pet and a toy. Becoming a chewed-up toy would ruin his day.

  Viper stretched his stiff, bruised body, searching all the while for a painless way down from the dragon’s bulk. Once again, one hind leg was stretched out into a bridge. It wasn’t as conveniently placed as it had been yesterday, but it allowed him easy access to the ground. Crawling down didn’t add any bruises to his collection.

  He labored up to the shelf and sat in a puddle of reflected dawn light to examine his wounds. The thick scabs on his hands and stitched wrist were uncomfortable, but the ache in his bruises had diminished noticeably. At least, the bruises didn’t hurt as long as he pampered them. His ribs were still tender, but he could breathe easily.

  He touched his cold, aching face with one fingertip. “Both of my eyes are black,” he muttered. “Dragon, you’re worse than Lorel.”

  Leysamura opened her eyes.

  Viper gasped and bolted into the nearest tunnel. He tripped on a pile of loose stones and fell hard against the wall of the shaft. Pain-filled stars shot through his body, stunning him.

  Thunderer protect him. Would she eat him for his clumsiness? Not if he could help it. He cast an illusion of stone over himself.

  Leysamura’s eye appeared at the end of the shaft. “What an amusing bit of magic. Quite realistic. But you’re going to harm yourself, dashing around like that.” She sounded appallingly like his mother. How embarrassing to be scolded like a tentling when he was fourteen years old.

  She moved away from the hole. “Come back here. I’m not in the mood for the game.”

  He kicked at the pile of rocks, struggled upright, and shuffled back to the main cavern.

  “Don’t drag your feet.” She plucked a handful of greenery from her nest and picked through the long grass and leafy twigs.

  A nest? He didn’t remember seeing any vegetation yesterday. When had she carried it in? Why would she bother?

  “I’m glad you decided to come back.” She dropped the foliage and licked the side of one claw. “I was worried. Furious, in fact. Why did you come back?”

 
; He stared openmouthed for several seconds. Finally he threw back his shoulders and glared at her. “I got hungry.”

  She giggled, a sweet, girlish sound. The good-natured laughter startled him.

  “That is as good a reason as any. I also am hungry. I’m going out to hunt.” She stalked across the cavern and launched herself into the frosty air.

  Viper shivered and tugged his battered coat around his chest. Breakfast sounded like a good idea. If he had anything decent to eat.

  Fungus did not fall into the decent category.

  He wandered through the tunnel, absently lit a will-torch as soon as darkness closed over him, and meandered to a fungus bed.

  Was he hungry enough to eat this garbage? His belly growled a yes. He settled between the fungus and a frozen pool and broke off a gray ear. After choking down a mouthful of fungus, he broke the ice on the pool with one fist. Blast, that water was cold. He wiped his battered hand on his trousers, but the wool didn’t absorb much liquid. His coat wasn’t much better, but he wasn’t about to use his linen shirt.

  Using his hands as a cup was a stupid idea, anyway. He lowered his chin to the frigid edge, and sucked at the water.

  His chin stuck to the ice. His lips froze into a pucker. Ice burned his throat and cramped his stomach.

  All that pain just to avoid tasting the fungus? Was it worth it?

  He glared at the waxy mass in his hand, but decided on a second drink of water. With his tongue and lips numb with cold, he choked down another disgusting bite.

  The wind of the dragon’s wings whistled through the tunnel just as he swallowed the third mouthful. Maybe his gut would stop complaining for a while.

  He plodded back to the main cavern to watch the creature feed. On real food. Even if it was raw meat.

  Leysamura noticed him after she’d eaten the elk’s hind leg. She stared at him, and at the carcass in her hands. After a moment she seemed to shrug. She extended one long claw and slit open the elk’s abdomen as neatly as a surgeon. She plucked out the liver and handed it to him.

  He bit into the hot organ, gagged on it, swallowed the bite whole. Blood dribbled down his chin. He dabbed at his bruised face with his coat sleeve. His mother would have yelled at him, but his coat was so dirty that one more stain would never show.