He hadn’t made a sound. Was it possible she could hear his thoughts? He’d written that possibility off as paranoia, but what if he was right?
The Masking Veil would block her out. Just trying it was good practice, whether she could hear him or not. And difficult magic would keep him entertained. Being her captive was boring, when it wasn’t terrifying.
The hardest part was invoking the Veil while leaving enough of his mind clear to do other things.
One step at a time. He concentrated on darkness, on stone, on silence. He held all three in his mind until the Veil felt steady.
But something was wrong. Something was missing.
His heart pounded. Sweat tingled all over his body. He panted as if he was running from a bahtdor.
He’d lost his link to the Kyridon. For the first time in lunars, he was alone. Cut off from everything, everyone.
He forced his breathing to slow. Screaming would wake the dragon, but he wanted to wail to the stars.
The Kyridon couldn’t be dead.
He thrust out his awareness and searched for the serpent’s mind.
A sigh of relief escaped his lips. The link was still there, but so faint he had to hunt to locate it, and couldn’t hold onto it once he found it.
He groaned and hid his face in the crook of his arm. Finding the wispy connection eased his panic, but losing it again left him even lonelier than before.
How could he ever escape this nightmare?
He would. No matter how long it took him, he’d find a way out. Out of the cavern, off the mountain, away from the blasted dragon.
He just didn’t know where to start.
Chapter 12.
Lorel squeezed her thighs tighter around the fir tree and pushed her hair out of her face. Just a few feet higher and she’d reach the nest.
She was so tired of fish.
Eggs, now. Fried eggs sounded just fine. More than fine. She could taste the yolk on her tongue. At least, she would if she could shimmy a few feet higher in this thread-snipping tree.
A cool breeze whiffled through her hair. Green sap teased her nose with promises of holiday feasts and memories of rambling through the forest with the kid. From up here, she could see clear across the valley to the mountain where she hoped to find him.
But that was too far away to worry about while her belly was rumbling.
The branch the nest was on looked sturdy enough. The whole miswoven tree was starting to bend, though.
She gotta make this quick.
Lorel planted her feet against the trunk and shoved. She grabbed the next branch up and hoisted herself three feet higher.
The fir swayed like a Moyaran-Dur dancer at a wedding party.
She clutched the trunk and froze. Her fingers overlapped, the trunk was so skinny. She’d forgotten how high up the nest was.
The tree settled, but it still tilted to one side.
The fraying nest was only two feet above her head, and three feet out on the limb. She glanced down. Not a good idea. The ground was a Loom-warping long way down.
No problem. She’d just grab the whole nest and scoot back to the trunk.
She wiggled higher until she was sitting on the branch. Sticky sap coated her palms. Maybe that would keep her from falling.
Don’t think about falling.
The fir bent a couple of feet to the side.
This was worse than bickering with the toad. No matter what she did, it was gonna be wrong. But she ain’t never given up that easy. She eased to the far side of the trunk.
The tree swayed to that side.
Much better. Now, if she kept her feet on this side, she’d be safe enough. She stretched out to grab the bundle of twigs.
Her arms ain’t that long. Noodle brain.
But higher… If she wrapped her knees around the branch above her head, she could squeeze around the tree and reach the nest. Her weight should be pretty well balanced, if she moved slow enough.
She eased up to the next branch.
The tree swayed, but steadied.
She wedged her ankles around the skinny branch and twisted her arms and head to the far side of the trunk. With her butt up in the air, she must look like an inch worm. A really big inch worm.
But this early worm was gonna get the eggs. She stretched both arms toward the nest.
The fir swayed until she stretched her feet back along the opposite branch.
She waited for the tree to hold still before inching her tits forward.
The tree bent forward several feet.
She snatched the nest, yanked it to her chest, and shoved it inside her shirt. She wriggled back hastily.
The fir continued to bend, but paused and started to flutter. That oughta be as far as it could go.
Lorel took a deep breath and relaxed. No problem. She’d done it.
The tree whipped back in the opposite direction like a striking snake.
“Coward crap!” She wrapped both arms around the trunk.
The tree bent halfway over, and snapped back.
Her legs flew free from the branch. For an instant she was upside down. The ground rushed toward her. She flailed her legs, yanked them around the trunk.
The crown of the tree grazed the forest floor. The trunk sprang back, jolting her, brushing against the ground on the far side.
She clutched the bark so tight it cut her fingers.
The tree whipped upright, surged toward the ground.
Gritting her teeth, she launched herself to the end of the branch. The ground rushed at her.
The top of the tree smacked against the dirt.
She kicked against the branch and wrapped her arms around her head. She flew spinning onto leafy, moldy soil, landed hard, rolled for several paces, and sprawled flat on her back.
The tree thrashed upright and swayed grumpily.
Panting and dizzy, she sprawled on rotting leaves. Her whole body felt as limp as an overcooked noodle.
Weaver’s chamberpot, that was too fraying close.
When the forest stopped spinning, she sat up. Slowly. She stretched and patted herself. Nothing seemed to be broken.
Would be a miracle if any eggs survived the fall. But she’d happily eat them raw, even if she had to scrape egg juice off her belly.
Still shaking, she pulled the nest out of her shirt. The brittle gray twigs held a few old eggshell shards, a few leaves, and a whole bunch of bird crap.
What a waste of time. She staggered to her feet and shook more dried bird crap and dead leaves out of her shirt. She raked sticky green fir needles out of her hair.
Had anybody seen her? No toad in sight. At least the beastie couldn’t rag at her.
Her belly growled. Again.
The blood-woven stream that nearly drowned her yesterday had fish. Tsai’d proven that. But what she wanted was eggs. Or better yet, meat.
The kid always laid snares around the camp. That couldn’t be too hard to figure out. Maybe she could catch a coney. She was so tired of fish.
By the time she got back to camp, Tsai had a fire going from last night’s coals. The girl plunked a skillet and a water flask on top of a puny pile of wood. “Good thing we kept the fire going last night. Unless you found some matches?”
Lorel shook her head. “I even looked in the kid’s cupboard.” She’d had to stuff his boot back inside, too. The fraying thing kept escaping. She couldn’t blame it. Not much worse than being trapped in a dark hole.
Kyri-thing was still sulking under the wagon. Now what was wrong? The legless lizard was touchier than Faye’s oldest sister.
“It talked to you yet?” She settled next to the fire and convinced her bones to stop shaking. Was fifteen and a half too old to be climbing trees?
Tsai shook her head. “I’ve been out gathering breakfast.” She pointed to a basket full of greens and roots.
Yuck. But she didn’t say it out loud. Unless she caught a coney, she’d be stuck eating that crap until they rescued the kid.
&n
bsp; The slithering toad looked skinnier than usual. It glanced at her and twisted into a pretzel.
She didn’t have no patience for its fussing today. “Out with it, toad. What’s wrong with you?”
“This one cannot perceive its amalgamation with the hatchling.” Somehow it coiled into an even tighter knot. “The connection was obliterated during the nocturnal period.”
“Little words, toad.” She didn’t have no patience for its chatter today.
“This one is deaf to the hatchling. This one dreads the hatchling was consumed.”
Tsai gasped. “The dragon ate him?”
Lorel just sighed. “We been through this before, toad. You thought he was hiding his magic from the blood-woven dragon. You sure he’s dead?”
“This one is confident of nothing.” It managed to sag while staying all curled up. “Should the hatchling survive, this one can no long guide the swordlings.”
“Then we keep going toward that big old mountain.” She hadn’t paid much attention to the stupid snake since she figured out it didn’t know how to get to the kid.
Kyri-thing lifted its head so fast it thumped against the wagon’s undercarriage. “The swordlings have distinguished the hatchling’s locus?”
“If you mean, do we know where he is? Sure, more or less.” She pointed at the only peak that didn’t have no smoke coming out of it. “There, or nearby, if there’s anything that ain’t a volcano behind it.”
The legless lizard blinked at her. It slithered up to the wagon’s roof and stared the way she’d pointed. “The anchor may be correct. This one shall not capitulate until the hatchling’s mortality is corroborated.”
It was sweet to hear the toad say she was right. The rest of its chatter was pure gibberish. Maybe it was talking Nashidran? She didn’t know no big words in Nasty.
Something rattled against the wagon’s door. But there wasn’t hardly no wind, and nothing perched on the driver’s seat.
Tsai glared at her. “Did you let that thing loose?”
“I never. I wouldn’t do that to you.” Maybe she’d forgotten to close the hidden cupboard real tight, but she’d never admit to it.
The door popped open.
Tsai shrieked.
Kyri-thing stared down from the roof.
Lorel sighed and stood up.
The fraying boot sprinted under the door, leapt down to the ground, and raced away from camp.
Weaver’s cold toes, that thing was fast. “Grab it!”
Tsai backed away. “Not me.”
Lorel rushed after it, but somehow the fraying one-footed jackrabbit managed to outrun her. “Catch it, toad!”
It crashed through the undergrowth like it had a mission in mind. A destination.
Kyri-thing tilted its head. “This one questions why the swordling aspires to capture misaligned magic.”
“It belongs to the kid.” And it was headed straight at the mountain where she thought – hoped – the dragon had him stashed. “It knows how to find him.”
The legless lizard flowed from the roof quicker than grease on a hot skillet. It slithered after the boot so fast she couldn’t keep up with it, either.
Tsai stared openmouthed. “I never dreamed that thing could move so fast, and it was scary fast when it kidnapped Viper.”
Fighting with it in the swamp taught her it could hustle, but it was clumsy back then. Now it moved like it knew what it was doing. Way too strange, especially considering she hardly ever saw it move more than ten feet at a time.
It slithered back into camp lots more slowly, and with the boot snagged on its fangs.
The tangle of chewed-up leather squirmed like it was trying to get way. Probably was. She couldn’t blame it. She wouldn’t like getting fanged, herself.
“Hold still, toad.” She sat down in front of the snake and eased the boot off its teeth, trying to avoid hurting either of them. Feeling sorry for the scraps of cow hide was part of it, but getting bit by a pissed-off monster snake with fangs longer than her fingers would hurt forever. Or until its poison killed her.
Once she finally got it free, the scruffy leather bits lay limp in her lap. One ragged brown strip tapped her knee gently.
Tsai stared at it like she couldn’t decide if she was gonna get sick, or if she felt sorry for it. “How can you bear to touch it?”
“It’s just a leather thing the kid magicked.” If she fretted over every weird thing the kid did, she’d never have time to practice sword fighting. Or to eat. Or to do much of anything. “Poor fraying critter.”
“It’s not an animal, it’s a monster.”
Cradling it in both hands, Lorel held the poor beastie up. “Looks like a hurting little animal to me.”
Tsai shuddered. “Go lock it up. If it can find Viper, we can’t risk it getting away.”
Kyri-thing shook its head. “This one communicated with the misaligned magic, which now is cognizant of the hatchling’s need. It shall not flee.” The stupid snake glided up to the driver’s seat and slithered inside the wagon.
Lorel grinned at her friend. “You go lock it up. I ain’t going in there with a cranky toad.”
Tsai shuddered. “No thanks.” She picked up the skillet, poured a little water into it, and shoved all the greens in on top. “Breakfast will be ready once all this stuff gets soft.”
Yuck. Maybe she would go inside with the toad. She gotta figure out where the kid kept his snares.
Soggy greens tasted lots worse than burned fish.
Chapter 13.
His will-fire sputtered.
The fizzling spell jerked Viper out of a light slumber. His will-flame was a tired, tiny thing, and its every flicker lurched inside his gut. It was too small to warm him, so he forced his numb fingers to make the gestures the dragon had taught him.
The fire obediently expanded. The wobbly sensation grew with it.
It still amazed him that certain gestures worked just like chants. Trevor never told him anything like that. Had the old man even known?
His stomach roared, daring him to leave it empty while promising torture if he did.
Sighing at the thought of another meal of waxy fungus, he doused the fire with a gesture. He stood up on shaky legs and braced himself to ignore the morgue-like shadows.
As he wandered through the tunnel, inky darkness gathered around him, but the outlines of the cavern seemed vaguely visible. He concentrated and was rewarded with a clearer view of his surroundings.
Amazing. It wasn’t dark in here, just horribly dim. If he focused tightly enough… Yes! He could see the texture of the walls. The stone folded and dipped like petrified cake batter, yet the floor was smooth and level, as though it had been polished. And he’d bet those broken lines were where she’d raked her claws while chasing some poor fool. Like him.
No. He refused to play the fool, even for a dragon.
Maybe it seemed so dark because the walls were char black – but they weren’t. Dark red stripes edged with scarlet swirled throughout the walls, wide blending into narrow streaks. Old blood red, almost dark enough to be mistaken for black, melted into truly ebony stone.
Suddenly he could see the pebbles on the floor, cobwebs in the heights, dust in crannies in the walls. He could see thousands of tiny things normally invisible in the shadows of a torch.
He saw the gaping pits in the floor that his will-light had shown him earlier, but he also saw tunnels in the ceiling where a giant hand could reach down at him. Tunnels hidden from him until this moment.
Darksight. He’d conquered darksight.
That old dragon would have a hard time catching him now. She couldn’t track his light if he didn’t use one. The odds had moved in his favor, for a change.
He still couldn’t sense the Kyridon. Deathsinger take that dragon, he was still trapped in these tunnels. But he had a tool she didn’t know about. Two, if he counted the Masking Veil, though he didn’t know if it was working. Now he only needed to figure out a way to use them against
her.
A threatening growl from his stomach yanked him out of his reverie. He set a brisk pace to the fungus bed. Passing out from starvation would give the dragon too big an advantage.
He seated himself between a gray wall of ears and a pool, broke the ice with his fist, and stared into the frigid water. It was far too cold to stick his hands or his lips in there. If only he had a way to heat water. Tea would be heavenly. Hot water would be delicious.
But he didn’t have any sort of vessel. Teasing himself didn’t help. He shook his head and turned away.
He willed a fire into existence.
Brilliant gold light flashed in front of his eyes. Thunderer, that hurt. And it left him blinded!
He waved the fire into oblivion. Slowly his sight returned. That was a relief. What had he done differently to damage himself?
Darksight. He’d created fire while using darksight. Not a good mixture, obviously. Interesting, but painful.
He willed the darksight away and commanded a new fire to appear. Praise the Thunderer, his magic behaved this time.
Leaning forward, he let the will-fire warm his numb fingers. Frostbite would get him yet, if he wasn’t careful. Spending nights with Leysamura had warmed him more than he’d thought. It wasn’t fair that he’d come to rely on her so much.
Food was the only way to keep his fire going. He snatched a chunk of fungus from the wall and shoved it into his mouth. The waxy texture gagged him and almost drove him back to freeze his tongue in the ice-coated pool. Almost.
Sooner or later he had to drink, but he’d put it off as long as possible. The only thing worse than freezing his mouth was emptying his bladder. No, emptying his bowels was worse yet. Not only did his rear end freeze, he swore fungus was growing in the pile he’d left behind two days ago. And he was eating that stuff?
The will-fire glowed cheerfully, even mockingly. He scowled at it, and glared at the gray stuff in his hand. Even carrion flies wouldn’t eat this crap. He chucked the fungus into the fire.
A wonderful aroma rose from the flames.
He scrambled to his knees and knocked the toasting fungus out of the heat. Expecting it to melt into slime and drip through his fingers, he gingerly picked up the hot wedge.
Dragon's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 4) Page 9