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

by D J Salisbury

  Why not today? There was one way out he’d never seriously considered. It was time he attempted it.

  As nonchalantly as he could manage, he strolled through the tunnels and out to his shelf.

  Leysamura was deeply asleep, one wing sheltering Zhanamuriel from his sight. Good, she shouldn’t notice him any time soon.

  He crept diagonally down the cliff below his shelf, moving quietly away from the sleeping dragons. If his working hypothesis was right, she’d only awaken if he moved toward her baby. Away should be safe enough.

  His theory appeared to be sound. She didn’t even twitch while he strolled along the base of the cliff toward the cavern opening.

  He braced himself for blinding sunlight, but only darkness met his sight. Had he been in the dark so long that his eyesight had failed, so he could only see through his mage senses?

  It didn’t matter. Escaping was the important part. He’d worry about being blind later.

  A pale, white sliver of light appeared behind a distant mountain. What on Menajr was that?

  A moon, noodle brain. Which moon, he couldn’t remember at the moment. Not the Monitor; this one was too small. The Elder, perhaps.

  He’d never get away if he kept making foolish mistakes. But the moon meant he wasn’t blind. And it meant he’d picked a good time to run away. The dragon wouldn’t notice he was missing for hours.

  He eased to the edge of the cavern and gazed downward.

  Straight down. The climb was steeper than he’d remembered. Suicidally steep?

  He didn’t feel as desperate as the writers in the tunnels. He hadn’t even bothered to write his own story on the stone. But he did intend to find a way out of this nightmare. No matter what it took.

  Swallowing hard, he knelt and started to inch over the edge.

  A red wingtip swept over him and dragged him back into the cavern. “Surely my company isn’t that unpleasant, Adoriel child.” Leysamura scooped him up with one paw and peered down at him. “Jumping is imprudent when you don’t have wings.”

  What did prudence have to do with anything? He’d been so close to freedom. How could he go on living like a coney lost in an abuelo den?

  The dragon tilted him to one side. “I do like your satchel. Very artistic.”

  He relaxed into her hand and sighed. She didn’t even bother to scold him properly. He was such a failure.

  She set him on his shelf and patted him on the head with one finger. “I’ve warded the opening, child. You won’t get out that way. Spend some time learning to see unanticipated wards. You’ll find the skill useful someday.”

  Another so-called lesson, again without enough instruction to get him started. How would he ever learn to see spells when none were around?

  But she said he’d find it useful. That had to mean she planned to free him. Someday.

  He hated to wait for someday. He refused to wait for someday. But he’d take whatever instruction the dragon would offer.

  “Would you create a spell for me to practice on?”

  She tilted her head. “I suppose so. A shield will be easier to study than a ward.” One huge hand waved in front of the tunnels. “There. I set a shield in a passageway. See if you can find where I put it.” She turned away and sauntered back to her nest.

  Some lesson. Why hadn’t she put it where he could analyze it?

  But he’d hunt for it. By wandering through the tunnels one by one until he ran into it, if necessary. He’d find it and examine it and figure out how to see the blasted spells from a distance.

  It was better than writing his sob story on the tunnel walls.

  Chapter 26.

  The snow-covered mountain towered over her. No grass, no trees, no place for the nags to rest. And no way could she get the miswoven wagon up there.

  The toad would just have to slither its blood-woven self across the ice.

  This meadow, here at the edge of the snow, was the last place they could leave the horses. Lots of grass, plenty of trees for them to hide under, a good little brook. She couldn’t think of anything else she could do for them.

  Except stay here and protect them while the toad charged off to rescue the kid.

  Leaving the horses unguarded frayed her thread. But she hadn’t seen any big critters since the Loom-tangling bear, not hardly even a deer.

  Not seeing any deer really worried her. If that winged weasel had eaten all the big game, the horses were in too much danger.

  But it was protect the nags, or go find the kid. An easy choice.

  She shrugged, buttoned her jacket closed, and trudged back to the wagon.

  It just killed her to think she ought to stay behind. Hiding behind a legless lizard. What kind of bodyguard did that make her? The kid needed her, not the miswoven toad.

  She bashed her fist against the side of the wagon.

  Tsai jumped and dropped her load of firewood. “What’s wrong?”

  Kyri poked its nose out onto the driver’s platform. “Did the anchor summon this one?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did.” Lorel stalked forward and scowled at it. “What’s your plan for getting the kid back?” She absently plucked a couple of starfish spines out of the side of her hand. Blood welled in the little punctures.

  “This one shall reconnoiter the environs.” The silly snake dipped its head. “This one shall… look at…”

  “I know what reconnoiter means, toad.” She slapped her forehead, held onto it. A blood-woven headache made her want to scream. Kyri, just by being its normal self, made her want to scream. “You explained that one when I started scouting.”

  But yelling at the stupid snake never helped. “So you go looking. Then what?”

  “This one perceives an extinct stratocone with a caldera at the summit which may obfuscate this one’s analysis.” The longwinded worm slithered out of the wagon and coiled up on the driver’s seat. “This one’s stratagem shall be regulated by the circumstances encountered.”

  Tsai shrugged and started picking up her firewood.

  Lorel closed her eyes and bit her tongue. She counted to ten. “You mean you got no idea.”

  The legless lizard reared up and glared down its flat nose. “Would the anchor mandate this one proceed without contemplation concerning the hatchling’s wellbeing or location?”

  Miswoven, longwinded, worthless worm. “What I want to know is how we can help!”

  It blinked and sank back to the driver’s bench. “This one requests that the swordlings allow this one to proceed alone. The swordlings’ footprints display more clearly upon snow than this one’s track.”

  She slammed her fist on the bench. “I want to help get him back!” Her hand left bloody spots on the wood.

  Tsai quit trying to round up the wood and strolled forward. Good to know somebody covered her back, even if it was a useless gesture against the overgrown wiggler.

  “Allow this one to ascertain the hatchling’s position.” Kyri shifted its coils. “This one vouchsafes to apprise the swordlings prior to inaugurating the hatchling’s emancipation if conditions brook delay.”

  She understood one word out of its gobbledygook. “If. But you swear…” What could it swear to, or swear by? Did it believe in anything?

  Live worms squirmed around in her gut and tickled the back of her throat. Would the toad really make her stay behind? “You know that snow is just plain cold water, don’t you? Really cold water.”

  It tilted its head. “Does the swordling volunteer to carry this one?”

  “Weaver’s chamberpot!” She swatted at the stupid snake, grazing its nose. “I’d haul you to the top of the world on my back if it would help!”

  Kyri yanked its head back. “Unfortunately, the swordling’s footprints would be easily discernable, or this one would be delighted to accept the offer.” It slid to the ground – on the far side of the wagon. “This one shall return periodically to report.”

  Lorel slumped against driver’s platform and watched it slither away. “I’ll k
eep a bunny on hand. You want it cooked or raw?”

  Kyri reared tall and looked back.

  She hid a grin. The toad had managed to look astonished.

  It turned away and vanished into the rocky snow.

  It’d forgotten its serdil-pelt coat. Or didn’t want the trouble of her and Tsai dressing it. That was gonna be one frozen snake when it got back.

  Tsai shook her head. “We might as well hunt up something to eat. We may be stuck here a while.” The girl tapped her scimitar’s hilt like she was hoping for a fight.

  A practice bout would drive all the cranky thoughts out of them both. After chores were finished, she’d pace out a challenge circle.

  The grin she’d been hiding broke through. “You finish making the fire. I’ll go set up some snares. I think I’ve finally got the hang of catching bunnies.”

  “Right. I’ll go grab some greens.” Tsai kicked the wood toward the pit she’d dug. “I saw some tubers back that away.”

  “Think we should camouflage the wagon better?” Twelve sorta fresh serdil pelts and four bunny skins covered the top and sides, but lots of starfish still showed through.

  Tsai shrugged, stacked kindling in the middle of the fire pit, and knelt to mess with the fire pot. “I think the dragon saw us a long time ago. No point in hiding now.”

  Lorel couldn’t argue with that. If the miswoven dragon hadn’t seen them, it must be too blind to find its own dinner.

  An hour later, after winning two out of three rounds – and breaking her wooden sword against Tsai’s to win the last one by ‘stabbing’ the girl with the stump – she settled down next to the fire and got on with fixing dinner.

  Her shoulders had finally relaxed. No matter what crap the toad pulled, she’d deal with it without strangling the stupid snake.

  She smeared another layer of mud over the last of Tsai’s tubers, and set it in the ring of muddy lumps drying around the fire.

  Tsai eased another skinny log into the fire pit, and sat back to fuss with the green crap in the wooden bowl in her lap.

  “I wonder what my folks are doing.” Lorel grinned lopsidedly. “I wonder if my noodle-brained brother ever asked that twit to marry him. More likely she asked him. I miss my brothers, but I never could stand her. I can’t remember her name, but she worked in my favorite tavern.” She’d take Tsai to Trader’s Inn once they got to Zedista. They served the best beer on the Loom.

  Tsai glanced up from sorting through the green crap. “Both of my sisters got married before I left for sword school. I can’t remember their men’s names, either. A couple of really boring merchants.”

  Lorel laughed and slathered another layer of mud on the first tuber. Still not as thick as the kid liked it, but it would do.

  She grabbed the shovel and raked coals to one side. The embers glowed red all the way through. Good, dinner should cook quick. She dumped the muddy tubers into the hole and shoved more coals over them.

  Tsai reached into the woodpile and chucked a few thick branches over the top.

  Lorel stood, stretched, and listened to the birdsong. No warning calls out of her feathered sentries. “I’m gonna grab some sleep. Toad won’t be back for a while.”

  Tsai nodded. “You want to eat an early lunch first?”

  “That green crap? No thanks. You eat it.” Lorel climbed up to the driver’s platform, crawled inside the wagon, and curled up on her bunk beside Baby Bear and Izzy. They’d have the wagon to themselves for a few hours. And by the time the cranky toad got back, there’d be bunnies in her snares and dinner would be cooked.

  The kid would be proud of her, eating tubers and the like. Poor kid was a snipping-good cook. Had to be, to teach her how to cook gnarly old roots.

  Though she wasn’t sure tubers were much better than green crap. Without his magic, they didn’t hardly have no taste at all.

  Blood in the Weave, she was tired of weeds. She needed to find the kid just so she’d get a decent meal!

  It was all her fault he’d gone missing. She should’ve protected him better. Should’ve made him stay closer to the wagon. Once she got him back, she’d stay right on his heels. She’d be the best bodyguard ever. Nobody’d ever bother him again. Once she got him back to civilization.

  If she got him back.

  Pounding on the wagon’s wall woke her up. “Kyri’s back,” Tsai shouted.

  Back? Already? How far could the slithering toad go in such a short time?

  Her belly growled. Maybe it was gone longer than she thought.

  Baby Bear whimpered. “Mau?”

  Definitely longer. She stretched, stood, and strapped on her sword belt.

  Baby whined. Better hurry before her girl started wailing.

  She reached into the kitchen cabinet, scooted aside the dish covering the bowl of bunny blood and elk’s milk, grabbed the bowl and a wooden spoon, scooped up Baby Bear, and squirmed under the wagon door.

  Izzy hopped outside faster than she could. Silly old boot.

  No matter what Tsai said, she didn’t see the legless lizard yet. She sat down beside the fire and spooned pink curdled milk into Baby’s mouth. Her sweetie got the hang of licking on the spoon right away. Smart little Bear.

  The bowl was half empty by the time she saw the overgrown wiggler.

  It looked kinda blue instead of its usual pinky brown. And it moved all jerky, like a toddler’s wooden snake. “This one confesses to failure.”

  The stupid snake didn’t even bother to lift its head off the grass. It wiggled away for less than half a day, and it gave up already?

  It humped a little closer, but stopped a good ten feet from the campfire.

  “So you’re not looking for him no more?” She eased Baby into Tsai’s lap and stood.

  “This one discerned no aperture proffering access to the hatchling.” Kyri straggled flat on the ground, unmoving, watching her through slitted eyelids. “This one has failed.”

  No and failed were about the only part of its chatter that made sense. She shook her head and stalked over to the not-so-slithery toad.

  Shuddering all over, Kyri closed its eyes.

  She stood over the serpent, staring down at it. What was she gonna do with it? Ain’t it got no pride? She’d never stop hunting for the kid.

  It gave up so easy. Like it didn’t care.

  Or like it was so cold it couldn’t think.

  One of these days she’d figure out how the creepy critter’s wits worked. Maybe. But today she had to deal with the stupid snake. She bent and grabbed it around the throat.

  Tsai gasped and hugged Baby tight.

  Kyri sagged, going completely limp in her hands.

  Didn’t nobody trust her at all?

  She dragged the legless lizard close to the fire and tugged its length around the flames, close enough to warm the critter, but not close enough to burn its quivering hide.

  Before she finished the first go round, its blue eyes snapped open, wider than she’d ever seen them.

  Baby wriggled forward and tried to lick the snake’s skin.

  Tsai squirmed back far enough that Baby Bear couldn’t reach it.

  After Lorel draped the second coil in front of her, Tsai inched farther back so her knees didn’t touch its skin.

  Coward. The slithering toad could use the heat. But maybe Tsai was worried Baby would get too cold.

  Fraying overgrown wiggler’s body circled the fire nearly twice. She knew it was long, but that long? Was it stretching itself again? Probably not. It looked too frazzled.

  She fetched a mostly-clean shallow pan out of the middle trunk, filled it with water from the creek, and carried it back to the cook fire. She wished she had something tastier to offer. Not a bowl of blood, though she might squeeze a cup out of a bunny. A snake drinking blood was just creepy. Too bad they didn’t have no beer. That would warm it up.

  She settled the pan near Kyri’s head, halfway in the fire where the water would heat up fast, and inspected her patient again.

&
nbsp; The wiggler’s hide really was bluish. It was honestly shivering. She didn’t know snakes could shiver. “You want me to warm up a bunny?”

  “This one is appreciative of any warmth–”

  “As long as it ain’t cooked.” Lorel strode to the back of the wagon, pulled the dead bunny out of the bottom trunk, and put it near the fire, just out of scorching range.

  Fraying bunny was nearly frozen, though. “That’s gonna take a while to heat. I’ll go check my snares.”

  Minutes later, she strutted back, a limp, fat rabbit in her hand. “Here. I just broke its neck.” She set the furry corpse next to the water pan. “You want me to skin it for you?”

  Kyri just stared at the carcass all wide-eyed. Finally it looked up at her.

  She sighed. “I’m thinking you don’t want us to watch you eat.” It never did. Who wanted to watch a snake swallow a dead thing, anyhow?

  “This one would be appreciative of seclusion.”

  That mostly sounded like a yes. She nodded, took Baby out of Tsai’s arms, hauled the girl to her feet, and turned toward the horses. As they started to walk away she heard its voice.

  “This one wonders about the anchor’s concern.”

  Lorel glanced back. “It’s gonna take all of us to rescue the kid. I ain’t dumb enough to take on a dragon without every bit of the help I can get.” She turned to Tsai. “You’re mighty quiet.”

  Tsai’s brown eyes were as wide and puzzled as Kyri’s. “I thought you hated the snake.”

  “Don’t hate it. Don’t like it.” Lorel sighed. “I do need it, if we’re gonna rescue the kid. And the kid likes it, for all I think the creepy critter magicked him into liking it.”

  Tsai nodded. “I noticed that, too. Viper agreed to this quest far too easily.”

  And he looked to the slithering toad with every single question. He trusted whatever it said. He went out of his way to rescue the stupid snake.

  For that matter, so did she. Was it magicking her? Nah, the critter was just plain pathetic, for all it was as long as a good-sized tree. But it always tried to carry its share. Made it worth helping the thing.

  Izzy hopped over and bunted its head against her leg.

  “Whatcha need?” She knelt and let Baby Bear lick Izzy’s face.