The mare didn’t like the green crap at all. The fraying horse kept on hopping away from her. They were both covered in green goo before she had all the wounds covered. Well, the toad couldn’t complain she didn’t have its fraying poultice on her scratches.
By the time she got back, Tsai was lying flat in the grass, sound asleep, with Baby Bear cuddled in the crook of her arm, and Izzy standing guard on her chest.
Lorel sighed and headed out to gather firewood. Looked like they’d be camping here for a few days, until Tsai recovered some.
Kyri wiggled back into camp at dusk. A rabbit dangled from its mouth, still twitching weakly.
The snake dropped the bunny at her feet. “The anchor shall feed lagomorph blood and organs to the guardian. It shall masticate the edible flesh and excrete it into the guardian’s oral cavity. Tomorrow this one will endeavor again to captivate a lactating muskox.”
“Little words, toad.” She didn’t have a clue to what it wanted this time.
The longwinded worm reared tall and glared at her. “Feed. The. Infant.” It slithered inside the wagon, and somehow managed to slam the door.
Tsai sat up and blinked. “What?” She hugged the puppy harder.
Baby Bear wiggled and whimpered. A wet stain appeared on Tsai’s shirt.
“Oh, you just had to.” Tsai lifted Baby Bear away from her body. “Couldn’t you have warned me?”
“I been wondering when she’d get around to it.” Lorel scooped up the tiny body and cradled it against her chest. “Go wash your shirt. And bring back a kettle of water. I think the toad wants us to feed Baby some bunny soup.”
Izzy deserted Tsai and hopped over to Lorel’s side.
“I thought I heard Kyri say something about blood.” Tsai stood up slowly. “Did it tell you to feed Baybid’ba’ir rabbit blood?”
“Maybe that’s what it meant. Blood and bunny guts. I’ll try it.” Lorel waved toward the creek. “Bring water for stew anyway.”
Tsai shook her head, but grabbed the kettle and limped away.
Now, how was she gonna get bunny blood inside Baby Bear?
No problem. All she had to do was cut the critter open and stick the puppy’s nose into the hole. Baby slurped up the blood and chowed down the guts before Tsai got close to the creek.
Lorel rescued the rest of the bunny for her and Tsai’s dinner. Baby’s belly looked half ready to explode, so she surely wasn’t hungry no more.
Baby Bear curled up in her lap and chirped sleepily. She raised her head and licked Lorel’s thumb. Tiny eyelids opened for the first time.
And those eyes were as fraying blue as Kyri’s.
Chapter 23.
Leysamura turned her face toward the cavern entrance.
Blast. Surizhan must be back.
Viper scuttled into the nearest tunnel. Darkness surrounded him, but he barely noticed. Even at noon, most of the cavern was so dim that sunlight had become a forgotten luxury.
A moment to let his guard down was merely a coveted dream. Lightning strike all dragons! Hiding like a cockroach was so undignified.
Surizhan swooped into the cave, minced forward, and deposited a shaggy elk at the edge of the nest.
Zhanamuriel attacked the carcass as if she hadn’t eaten twice already this morning. Her claws ripped through the elk’s belly hide and she shoved her whole face inside its abdomen. Very little blood emerged. This victim had been dead longer than most.
Both dragons settled back and watched their beloved child devour the animal.
Viper leaned his shoulder against the tunnel wall and smothered a sigh. Finding someone who loved him that much was another discarded fantasy. The Kyridon didn’t count. Ever since he’d been out of contact with the serpent’s mind, he’d begun to suspect the Dreshin Viper wanted something from him, rather than wanting him as a friend.
After several minutes of savaging the elk, Zhanamuriel belched, waddled back to her mother’s side, and collapsed into boneless sleep.
“I have disturbing news,” Surizhan said.
“Tell me.” Leysamura turned her baby on her side and licked her bloody face and chest clean.
“There’s a human near the foot of your mountain. Maybe two.”
Caution forgotten, Viper dashed out of his tunnel. His voice broke into a squeak. “How far is it? With a wagon? Did you see–”
“Silence, hatchling!” Surizhan roared. “Disappear or I will play the game with you. And I give no query!”
“The word is quarter,” Viper snapped.
Oops. That might not have been one of his smarter moves.
Surizhan swatted at him.
Maybe he should disappear, until the male dragon left anyway. He ducked into the dark just within the tunnel’s mouth and concentrated on being unnoticeable. Holding an illusion of darkness and the Masking Veil at the same time was becoming easier every day.
The dragon stared at the tunnel and frowned, but shrugged. He started to say something, but was distracted by the rustle of Leysamura’s wings.
“I really can’t worry about a lone human.” She arched her neck and shivered her wings again. “As long as you bring us food, I can guard our babe with no trouble. Besides, no human can climb up to this cavern.”
“What makes you say that?” Surizhan swiveled his head and glared at Viper’s tunnel.
Leysamura grinned and gestured at his shelf. “The fact that my sweet little pet can’t climb down yet. You may be certain he’s considered the idea.”
“After I’d been half-starved and three-quarters mashed, of course I did,” Viper shouted.
Leysamura giggled and picked delicately at the half-stripped elk carcass. “Such a vocal hatchling.”
“Children should be better behaved.” Surizhan turned and launched himself out of the cave.
“I turned fourteen ages ago! I’m not a child.” Now he was yelling at a dragon’s shadow. Was he losing his mind?
Leysamura laughed outright. “You are more the child than you know, little Adoriel. Do try to be patient.”
Deeply dreaming, probably of chasing him, Zhanamuriel flapped her stubby wings.
Leysamura chuckled and gazed at her infant affectionately.
“When will that human be near here?” He hadn’t meant to beg, but his voice carried a humiliating whine.
“Be patient. If Surizhan saw it only today, it’s not close enough to be of interest.” She cradled Zhanamuriel against her belly and hummed an ancient lullaby.
“But–”
“Be silent. I have more important things to do than listen to you.”
Viper groaned and leaned his forehead against the cold stone of the tunnel.
A human. Possibly two. Lorel and Tsai’dona had followed him after all. Since he couldn’t feel the Kyridon’s mind and hold the Masking Veil at the same time, he hadn’t been sure. He’d begun to give up hope.
Maybe he was going insane. Shouting at a creature who’d love an excuse to eat him wasn’t rational by any measure. But he desperately wanted to talk to someone friendly.
Could he call Leysamura a friend? Not really. Certainly not since she laid her egg, and even less now that Zhanamuriel had hatched.
Was he jealous of the infant? Just because it shared Leysamura’s warmth, her affection, her life? Thunderer, how low had he fallen?
He craved a hug, a kind word, a shared joke. Loneliness would kill him faster than cold or hunger. He barely felt his empty belly anymore; it rarely bothered to growl at him. The cavern’s chill had become an old, if unwanted, companion.
His body would survive. He wasn’t so sure about his spirit.
But Lorel was nearby. And the earrings were as finished as he could make them. Would the dragon free him once he handed them over? Take him to wherever Lorel was today?
He jumped to his feet and sprinted through the tunnels. He collected the earrings from their hiding place – why he’d felt the need to hide them, he still didn’t understand – and dashed back to the main cavern.
“Great lady?” After all his foolish yelling, he’d try impressing her with politeness.
Leysamura looked up and raised her eye ridges.
“I’ve finished your earrings.” His voice shook. He fought to steady it. “I would be honored if you would accept them.”
“Finished so soon? You’ve been industrious.” She set Zhanamuriel down in the dry grass, stepped out of her nest, and sashayed the few steps to his shelf. “Show me.”
He placed the carved-ivory pieces on her outstretched palm. Would she be as pleased with them as he was? They were certainly his best work ever. He was proud of the open teardrop shape that still held a hint of the hoop she’d demanded. Upright wings appeared to slide through the air as the ivory dragons swooped down on prey. Their legs looked ready to leap upward on the rebound. Even the expression on their tiny faces was intense, focused on the hunt.
He’d squelched the temptation to carve himself inside one hand, but both carved-tooth dragons looked ready to snatch their prey.
Was this the moment to beg for freedom? If she flew him to the base of her mountain and pointed him in Lorel’s direction, he’d be happy to walk the rest of the way.
Leysamura poked at the earrings. “These aren’t what I’d envisioned.”
His stomach sank.
“I wanted hoops. Didn’t I mention that?” Her claw traced the earrings’ teardrop shapes. “The carvings are exemplary, however. They almost make up for your contempt for my instructions.”
Her fingers closed over the earrings. “I need to think about this.” She stomped away and tossed them into a cubbyhole.
And just like that, his hopes for freedom were dashed away. She’d never let him go now. Did she really want boring hoops instead of artistic genius?
What made him think she wanted art? She just wanted earrings. What a fool he’d been.
He wandered down the tunnel, stopping occasionally to read the writing on the stone. Now that he’d noticed it, he found it throughout the tunnels, in several languages, and in different handwriting styles. He couldn’t even guess how many people the dragon had toyed with over the centuries. The one thing all of her victims had in common was desperation. The fear they’d never get out of this cold, dank hole.
That was a feeling he knew all too well. Should he find a blank area and write his own story? Right now it seemed like too much trouble.
The stone surrounding him rumbled. Blast, an earthquake. Was it even worth running out to the main cavern? It couldn’t be any safer there.
An explosion shuddered through the tunnel and knocked him off his feet.
Rock juddered and danced. A wall collapsed barely twenty feet away from him, leaving the tunnel wider at that point. Stone clattered into what sounded like a deep well. Sand and gravel rained over him, pelting him with knife-edged pebbles.
Thunderer stamp on the Cantor’s drum! A volcano must have blown its top. Praise the Thunderer he hadn’t been buried.
The blasted dragon didn’t even bother to call his name, to ask if he’d survived. She didn’t care about him at all.
Of course, since she wasn’t screaming, he didn’t call out to her, either. He simply assumed she was unharmed, along with her baby, so he couldn’t complain too loudly.
Viper shook off the gravel and climbed to his feet. His foot. He hadn’t thought about his missing foot for ages, but it ached now. Blasted phantom pain. Was this a good time to practice walking on his illusory foot?
Why bother? He’d never get out of here. There was no place to walk except in circles inside the tunnels.
That kind of thinking ensured he’d be trapped forever. He had to make an effort. He had to be ready to escape.
Would the foot materialize inside his padded boot? Only one way to find out. He willed his ghostly foot to become solid.
It was a strange sensation. He could feel his foot, almost as if it were real. He could also feel the padding inside his boot sharing the same space as his foot. Both seemed solid.
But his phantom foot let him stand taller than the boot did. He walked six steps with his spine fully straight for the first time in lunars.
On the seventh step his foot vanished. He staggered and caught himself against the wall.
Amazing. It might be worth practicing that spell more, and often, even though it left him feeling lightheaded.
He limped a few steps forward, just to get used to the miserable padding against his stump. The old serdil fur had packed down into a gooey, lumpy mess. He needed to ask Leysamura for some wool, the next time Surizhan brought her a mountain goat.
How he hated to ask the sandblasted dragon for anything.
A handful of pebbles fell out of a depression near the roof and landed in a pile of rubble. He’d walked through this tunnel hundreds of times, and he’d never noticed loose gravel before.
He sidled closer to the gloomy hollow. Cool air blew into his face.
A new hole in the wall opened into the dark. How deep was it? Had the volcanic explosion knocked it open?
More importantly, would it lead him to the outside world?
He jumped, grabbed the edges of the hollow, and hoisted himself upward.
It was a small hole, barely big enough for his shoulders. But the air inside was moving. And it smelled fresh. This might be a way out.
His arms tired of holding his weight. He released his hold on the ledge and dropped back to the tunnel floor.
Praise the Thunderer, he’d discovered a new passageway, one unknown to the dragons. But what if it got smaller? It might only be a crack in places. If he got stuck, he might not be able to wiggle out backwards. He’d die.
He was dying already. The dragon would never let him go. He’d be like all her other victims, fading slowly, begging the dragon to kill him.
This opening was his only hope.
Catching a deep breath, he leapt upward and wriggled into the fissure.
At first the surface was heavily pocked, and painfully rough against his skin. The gritty stone wore through his trousers. He tried to keep his knees off the ground and continued crawling.
The crevice darkened. Soon there wasn’t enough light for even darksight to show him what lay ahead.
Not a problem. He’d feel his way to freedom.
The shaft narrowed. He had to turn sideways to fit his shoulders through. Squirming in hands first, he dragged himself along with his fingertips and pushed with the toes of his foot. His padded boot was useless here, but he hoped he didn’t lose it. No way could he ever go back for it.
The lightning-blasted crack narrowed again.
He forced himself to go on. There was nothing to go back to. He had to get out of the mountain. He needed to reach Lorel before the dragons decided to eat her.
Getting out before he died of despair would be good, too.
He squirmed onward. His shoulders pressed so tightly against the stone he had to shift one arm forward, then the other, inch by inch.
Not a problem. He’d worm his way to freedom.
Until his ribcage jammed against jagged rock.
His fingertips clawed at air. His foot scraped uselessly on slick stone. He couldn’t wiggle or even hunch his back.
He couldn’t breathe.
Rock pressed down on him. The whole mountain squeezed his chest, his body, his thoughts. Darkness swallowed him.
He was stuck. He was going to die down here.
It was almost a relief. No more dragon hunting him down, batting him around, mocking him. No more girls laughing behind his back, waiting for him to do something stupid. No more magical serpent, demanding he fulfil a quest he barely understood.
Honestly, he’d never understood the Kyridon’s quest. Enchanted swords had potential, but what good were magicked musical instruments? He’d never heard of music having the power to overcome anything, much less a wizard or a Mindbender. It was all a hoax.
But what happened if the Kyridon was telling the truth, and instruments made of Hreshit
h bone had enough magic to make a difference?
He knew the Mindbender was real. It had attacked him, indirectly. He’d met one if its victims, if he could call a wizard’s enslaved ghost a victim. And it had murdered Trevor.
The threat was real. And no one understood that threat the way he did. No one else would listen to the Kyridon, or to Lorel and Tsai’dona. No one would gather the wielders of the magical weapons or hunt down a wizard to link them. The Mindbender would take over the world.
He couldn’t quit. He had to get out of here.
His fingers still met nothing but air. He kicked outward with his good foot. A pathetic kick, since he could barely bend his knee in the narrow tunnel.
Once more, his boot skidded on pitted rock without gaining traction. He twisted his leg at the hip and tried again.
His toes bumped on a tiny ridge.
That would work. It had to work.
He wedged his toes against the stony wrinkle and shoved.
His foot slid uselessly.
It hadn’t felt slick when he’d wiggled over it. Why couldn’t he wedge against it now?
Why was he such a failure?
Trevor said there was no such thing as failure. One simply hadn’t tried hard enough.
Of course, Trevor had been crazier than a turybird that had eaten blue-mantle mushrooms. He’d also been the smartest person Viper had ever met.
He wasn’t a failure. He just couldn’t get enough air into his lungs to think properly. Quitting wasn’t an option.
Setting his foot against the bump in the stone, he pushed. Slowly.
Pressure built against his chest.
He pushed harder.
His jacket ripped. His shirt tore. Rock scraped skin off his ribs. Blast, that hurt.
But he didn’t dare relax. He felt around with his toes, found another ridge, and pushed again. And again.
By the time he shoved free, his shirt and jacket were in tatters. His chest and shoulders were bleeding. His foot was cramped into a pretzel.
It was worth the pain.
He sucked in a deep breath and crept onward.
The fissure widened only a few finger pulls later.
He wiggled forward.
Dragon's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 4) Page 20