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

by D J Salisbury

  But roasted albacore would do. He wrapped the fish in seaweed before igniting a will-fire under it.

  He munched on a few leftover leaves while he waited for the fish to cook. Thallus was the proper word for a seaweed leaf, but Lorel told him the word sounded dirty so many times he was afraid of even thinking it. Who’d have guessed his trash-talking turybird would threaten to wash his mouth out with soap?

  Who’d have guessed he could miss her so much?

  The remaining seaweed he spread around the fire to dry, a treat for later. He couldn’t count on Surizhan bringing more kelp, even if Leysamura talked him into fishing again.

  Succulent steam rose from the grill. Too bad he didn’t have a little butter to flavor his meal. Or herbs. Or a slice of bread. He swallowed hard and poked at his roasting supper. No point in worrying about what he didn’t have when wonderful food was cooking under his nose.

  “You’re taking your time eating.” The dragon peered over his shoulder. “Don’t you like fish?”

  “You have handed me a slice of exquisite perfection, and I don’t want to risk ruining it.” He swallowed again and waved irritably. “Leave me alone. I’m slobbering so hard I can hardly talk, but half-cooked fish is disgusting.”

  She laughed. Fishy breath roared over him. “You’ll gain the patience of a wizard yet, even if the reason is your belly.”

  He kept his gaze on the grill. “Do you know many wizards?” Turning the steak over at the right moment ensured it would cook all the way through, but curiosity overwhelmed his hunger.

  “I’ve met quite a few over the years.” Leysamura sighed and licked fish blood off her hands. “Most are dead now. But wizards are one of the rare species that survive long enough to be worth a conversation.”

  “What else lives so long?” Viper prodded his dinner, but leaned back in resignation. That much flesh needed far more time than he’d given it. But even half cooked, it smelled divine. “How long do dragons live?”

  “Longer than anything else.” Leysamura snorted. “Save the Hreshith. Wulfrun can live as long as a wizard. As can Dreshin Vipers.”

  The Kyridon might live as long as a wizard? What a strange thought. He found it hard to think of the serpent as being alive, or able to die. “But how long will a dragon live?”

  “Twice as long as a wizard, generally.”

  “Two thousand years? That’s halfway to forever!”

  “Not really, it just feels like it sometimes.” Leysamura rubbed her muzzle with both hands. “I imagine that’s what makes us so irritable. Now tell me, do you know any wizards?”

  “Well, Trevor should have been a wizard, but he hadn’t gotten around to the Wizard’s Route yet.” Poor old Trevor would have made a capital wizard, if the spell in Viper’s grimoire hadn’t summoned the wizard’s ghost who murdered him. Sandblast RedAdder, the book, and his own curiosity.

  “He doesn’t count.”

  Viper frowned. “He does, too. Anyway, I met wizard Clay in Zedista, but only for a few minutes.”

  “Clay. I met that one.” The dragon settled closer to her egg. “A nice youngster. Rather distracted. A bit too trusting, really.”

  “He trusted somebody too much.” He flipped the fish steak, hoping it would cook a little faster. Juices hissed into his will-flame. “Last I heard, he’d disappeared on his way to Shi.”

  “Shi?” Leysamura’s ears perked forward. “There’s some sort of trouble in Shi. Nasty stuff, but I can’t figure out what it is. Do you plan to go to Shi, little Adoriel?”

  “That’s where I was headed before you caught me.” He risked a blatant lie. “I want to see what’s going on there for myself.” The fact that it was the only port accessible from Noran had nothing to do with it.

  “Good. A hatchling without initiative will never become a wizard. Very good.” The dragon returned to her nest and stroked the wriggling shell of her egg. “However, you’ll need to be very circumspect. Admit to no one that you’ve spoken with dragons or studied sorcery. And I mean absolutely no one, no matter how much you trust them. Even if they guess, it is critical that you do not admit to having gained the fifth level.”

  “What do you mean, fifth level? I failed the second-level exam.”

  Leysamura laughed and curled tighter to her egg. “Quiet your mind, querulous child. I need to sleep.”

  Dinner would be ruined if she chased him away now. He tightened the Masking Veil as much as he could.

  Fish-scented steam wafted into the air. Seaweed blistered and crackled. Almost done.

  His mouth was so filled with spit he could barely swallow. Where was his plate? He reached for the slate-colored slab.

  The dragon raised her head. “I asked you to be quiet.”

  The plate slipped from his fingers, but he caught it before it crashed to the ground. “I’m doing the best I can.” He swallowed again. “I’ll be quieter after I’m done eating.”

  “You’ll be quieter now.” She squinted at him. “What spell are you trying to use? Whoever taught it to you should be dropped in a volcano.”

  Would being self-taught get him killed? “The Masking Veil, and I read it in a wizard’s grimoire. RedAdder’s grimoire.”

  “No other instruction? I’m impressed. I didn’t meet the creature, but I’d say RedAdder failed as a teacher.” Leysamura raised up a little higher and studied him. “Imagine you are inside a tent, looking through a dark gauze curtain. You can see out, but no one can look in.”

  His mother’s tent had a curtain door exactly like that. Even at night with a lamp burning, it was hard to glimpse the inside rooms through the layers of gauze. In daylight it was impossible to view the interior, yet easy to see out.

  Oh, that was how the Masking Veil worked.

  Viper wrapped his mind in layers of charcoal gauze. Immediately every­thing around him seemed darker, more distant.

  The sensation was unnerving. He was already slightly numb from lowering his body heat. Masking his mind pushed him another step from the real world.

  He felt like he’d lost something important, but he didn’t know what.

  Leysamura nodded. “Much better.” She tucked her head under one wing.

  Trevor’s enthusiasm for his triumphs had been embarrassing, but much more fun. The dragon simply assumed he’d succeed. That was a complement, he supposed.

  Fish juices sizzled in his will-fire. His concentration nearly slipped, but he yanked the Masking Veil more tightly around him.

  If only the sandblasted dragon would leave the cavern while he ate. With the Masking Veil in place, he could barely taste the formerly-excellent fish. What would the fungus taste like now? He could probably eat it raw without feeling sick.

  Just as he shoveled the last flavorless bite into his mouth, Viper figured out what was missing. His gut cramped and threatened to spew fish all over the cavern.

  He couldn’t sense his link to the Kyridon at all.

  Chapter 20.

  There went that Loom-tangling blue dragon again, high up and outlined against sunrise-pink clouds. It was bad enough when she saw the red one. At least that way she knew they were still in the critter’s territory. But she hadn’t seen the red one in ages.

  The blue one had been flitting around a lot, though. Mostly out toward the ocean, but it always headed back to that mountain.

  The mountain where the toad said the kid was trapped.

  If the blue dragon chased out the red one… What did that mean for the kid?

  She kicked a rock down the hill and turned away. Not a thread-snipping thing she could do about it. She’d better concentrate on finding a way to get the wagon there, and hope the kid could hold out.

  The way ahead made her nervous. There was still heavy snow up on the ridge. How’d the kid get the team to pull the wagon through the snow, up and down all those mountains on the way to Land’s End? The horses never fussed when he drove.

  The nags were sure fussing about snow these days, and they’d only reached patches of th
e fraying stuff yesterday.

  There was lots more snow on the kid’s mountain. No trees near the top, so no firewood. She wondered how he’d stay warm enough to survive. If he had survived.

  Kyri-thing said he was alive. She had to believe that.

  Lorel pulled her jacket tighter across her chest and thought about getting her cloak out of the wagon. But it wasn’t near cold enough to listen to the legless lizard nag at her. She’d warm up once she moved around some.

  She wandered into the meadow to inspect the horses.

  Even this early in the morning, the team looked tired. And skinny. Better let them rest for the day, no matter how much the toad whined. She needed to keep them horses healthy. They had a long way to go.

  But it would go so much faster if she could ride one of the nags and abandon the wagon.

  She ambled over to Poppy and rubbed one hand along the mare’s back.

  Blue-roan ears slapped flat against the nag’s head. Poppy lifted her nose out of the grass and glared.

  Stupid horse wasn’t gonna win this time. Lorel grabbed the mare’s mane and swung up onto the broad, blue-gray back.

  Poppy sidled right out from under her.

  “Weaver’s chamberpot!” Lorel clutched at the mane and pulled, but her knee never made it across the mare’s spine. Her chest slid down Poppy’s ribs.

  She landed hard in the rocky grass. Gravel dug through her jacket. “Miswoven nag.”

  Poppy shook all over and wandered away.

  Tsai walked out from the trees toward her, shaking her head. “Sometimes I think you enjoy pain. Don’t you have enough bruises?”

  She’d have a few more by noon, at this rate. “I need to ride her. The nags gotta rest for today, but if they didn’t have to tow the miswoven wagon, we’d move faster.”

  “Can you see Kyri sitting up there without a saddle?” Tsai shook her head. “Not a chance. Here, look at this.” She pulled a long black rock out of her pocket. “Found it back there. I think it’s flint.”

  “Flint? Sing to the Weaver.” She’d been wearing one of the kid’s Crayl steel knives and a little bag of tinder at her waist for days. “Let’s try it.” Lorel rolled out of the grass and bounded back to the wagon.

  Tsai helped clear rocks to make space for a fire pit. “If this works, I’m going hunting.” She grabbed a bunch of dry twigs from the edge of the meadow.

  “You and me both. I want some real food.” Lorel crouched in the bare dirt and carefully laid the tinder on a dead leaf. The little pile of dry moss and wood shavings didn’t look like much. But she’d seen the kid start fires with less. With a match, of course, but flint and steel could do it, too. Unless it was some sort of magic.

  Better not be magic. She’d wither away worse than the team if she didn’t get some cooked food inside her.

  Couldn’t be magic. The kid swore there weren’t no magic in matches, so flint and steel didn’t need magic, either.

  She took a deep breath and smacked the knife against the rock. “You see a spark?”

  Tsai knelt beside her and shook her head.

  “Me neither.” There gotta be some trick to it. Lorel scuffed the edge of the blade along the rock.

  Tsai leaned forward. “I think I saw something.”

  Sing to the Weaver. Hard and fast, Lorel scraped the sharp edge down the rough rock.

  “Sparks!” Tsai leaned in and blew gently on the tinder. Moss blackened.

  Lorel nudged a dry curl of birch bark over the black spot. A tiny flame licked at the wood. “We did it!”

  Tsai laid a twig close to the flame. “How’d you do it? Do you remember?”

  “Sure. I just scraped – uh, oh.” Lorel tilted the knife to catch the sunlight. Yup, the edge was all raggedy. She never guessed steel could be damaged that easy. “It’s gonna take hours to put the edge back on this. I’ll fix it later. I wanna go hunting.”

  “Somebody has to stay and babysit the fire. We can’t keep using that knife, it’ll get ruined and Viper will strangle us.” Tsai tented a trio of dry sticks over the growing flames. “I’ll make you a bet.” She pulled a copper coin out of her jacket pocket. “Swans mean I’ll stay, fish mean you do.”

  Lorel snatched the coin and inspected it. That was the weirdest fish she’d ever seen, but it would do for a coin toss. “You’re on.” She threw the copper straight up.

  Tsai snatched it out of the air, slapped it against the back of her hand, and sighed. “Swans, bog swallow it. I’m stuck here.”

  “I’ll bring back something worth eating if I gotta kill it with my teeth.” Lorel handed the wrecked knife over, hilt first. “I’ll fetch my fishing gear and a whetstone.”

  “Fishing gear?” Tsai got up and stomped to the edge of the meadow, bringing back an armload of dry branches.

  They’d have a real fire soon, at this rate. “I saw the kid’s fishing hooks and string yesterday.” She just had to remember where she saw them.

  Tsai shrugged, broke the smaller branches off her find, and arranged them on the flames. “I wish you luck.”

  “Meaning you’ll go tickle them outta the water if I can’t.” Lorel snorted and swung up to the driver’s platform.

  Izzy hopped out the instant she opened the door.

  “Stay close to camp,” she and Tsai shouted together.

  Little arms waggling rudely, Izzy jumped down to the ground.

  Lorel chuckled and ducked under the door. She unbuckled her belt and slid off her knife and sword sheaths. No point in taking them fishing. She’d dunked them in too many streams as it was. The leather was looking really shabby.

  Kyri-thing raised its head from the kid’s bunk. “This one inquires–”

  “The horses need a day to rest up.” She opened the kid’s cupboard and felt against the back wall. Her fingers found a ball of string wrapped around a strip of paper. “We’ll move on tomorrow.”

  The legless lizard laid down and closed its eyes. Stupid snake couldn’t even be bothered to fight with her these days.

  The bit of paper had three gorgeous, barbed fish hooks in it. She tore the paper off, eased out one hook, and slid it through her collar. She dropped the other bronze hooks inside a cup and closed the cupboard door.

  The whetstone was in a ‘kitchen’ drawer. She scooped it up, grabbed a sturdy bronze knife in a leather sheath, and slammed the drawer shut. No way was she gonna use her bahtdor-bone knife to cut a fishing pole.

  “This one has failed.”

  Weaver’s cold toes. Now what was wrong with the whiny worm? “You don’t do nothing to fail at it, toad.” She slid the knife sheath onto her belt while she waited for the stupid snake to natter at her.

  It didn’t even open its eyes. “This one is powerless to guide the swordlings to the hatchling.”

  She turned to face the overgrown wiggler. It did look kinda pale. “How come?”

  “The link between this one and the hatchling was severed.”

  It was pretty funny, the way the top of its head moved when it talked. It usually made sure to lift its nose up off the bed.

  “You told us before you was having trouble feeling the kid.” Wasn’t like they could miss that big old mountain. “Betcha he’s using his magic to hide from the dragon.”

  Kyri-thing lifted its head, even seemed to raise its eyebrows, though its face didn’t really change. Blue eyes glared at her. “Such magic is far above the hatchling’s erudition.”

  “His what? Never mind.” She sat on Tsai’s bed, preparing to squeeze under the door. “He always knows more than he thinks he does.”

  “How will this one locate the hatching?” That sounded more like a wail than a question. Old toad must really be worried.

  “Izzy can find him.”

  The slithering toad blinked.

  “I’m pretty sure that’s why the kid made him.” Of course, the kid probably didn’t know that at the time. His magic had a life all its own. “Go back to sleep, toad. We’ll be here all day.”

 
; She slid under the door before it got around to arguing with her.

  Tsai already had a good-sized fire going. “I’ll look inside for something so we can transport the fire while you’re gone. And I’ll hunt up some tubers. They can cook in the coals overnight, and we’ll have a hot breakfast.”

  “I like that idea.” Lorel tossed the whetstone at her.

  Tsai caught it and stuffed it into her pocket. “You sure you don’t want to stay here and rest today?”

  “No way. You go scouting most days. I can’t wait to get out without the miswoven wagon tied on my back.”

  Tsai nodded, sighed, and shoved a broken branch into the fire. She trudged to the back of the wagon and dragged the hatchet out of a trunk.

  Hatchet blows crashed behind her as Lorel strolled toward the stream. She grinned. Tsai hated gathering and cutting firewood almost as much as she did, but it was the girl’s turn.

  Today was her free day. The first in ages. There were so many fraying chores that had to be done just to keep the miswoven wagon moving.

  No point in fretting about it. But she would remember to help the kid with chores once she got him back. Even the boring chores.

  A thick willow stand swayed beside the creek. She picked a ten-foot-long branch and used the kitchen knife to chop it down. Her new fishing pole was sturdy but springy, just like her teacher said it should be.

  But now the knife was kinda dented. The kid was gonna fray all over her if she didn’t figure out how to straighten it. She’d ask Tsai later. Tsai could fix just about everything.

  She wiggled it back inside its sheath, the dent making it fit just a little too tight. At least she couldn’t lose it.

  Lorel stripped all the leaves and twigs off the willow pole and held it high. If only she could remember how to use the thread-fraying thing. It’d been years, and she never caught nothing back then. Still, it shouldn’t be that hard.

  The first step was to find a place where fish liked to live.

  She hiked alongside the stream, searching for a good fishing hole. At first the bank was too rocky, with too many willow branches in the way. She’d get her line tangled up in those, for sure.

  Mist blew against her face, smelling of wildflowers and spring. The creek chirped and grumbled like the toad when it got pissed.