Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3)

by Janet Lane-Walters

  How did the dragon riders manage to keep the room so cold? He understood the pool room and how the water flowed from a hot spring below. Just like the water at the citadel. This room puzzled him. He backed into the corridor and turned toward the unexplored areas. One hand trailed along the wall. A surge of power signaled the presence of fyrestones. His hand heated.

  He used the hilt of his knife to tap the wall around the area. Flakes of stone fell. With suddenness the stone crumbled. He caught fyrestones in his hand. They gleamed with enough light to brighten the gloom. He laughed. There were enough to permit him to experiment and see if the results of the other times he’d used the yellow and orange stones had been flukes. He carried them to the outer cavern. The gray light of morning allowed him to see.

  He sat on the cave floor. For a short time his hands shook with excitement. He imagined his return to the citadel. They would be forced to give him the seat. By his firm control of the power of the other stones, he could defeat any of those who looked down on him because he’d been adopted.

  Arton drew a deep breath and began. Five wythes from five different trees or bushes lay in a row in front of him. He spilled the newly found stones on the ground. He recalled the blaze of light the yellow had produced. And selected five. He fitted the stones to the tips of the wands.

  Arton lifted one of the wythes and poured power into the cave. Light filled the cave. The glow remained for an instant. With no warning the wood burned. He dropped the wand and watched the stone die. He tried a second and a third with the same result.

  His spirits sank. What use were all these stones when he had no wand strong enough to maintain the power without burning the wood? He gathered the remaining stones and dropped them into his pouch.

  Lorana sat beside him. “I saw flashes of light. What did you do?”

  He shrugged. “Nothing of value. Unless I find wood strong enough to hold the power, all I can try is useless.”

  “What about the other colors? Might they not behave differently?”

  “The orange and the red are stronger than the yellow. Only the wands made from fyrethorn wythes hold the power for more than an instant. I don’t think I’ll find anything strong enough so I can test the stones.”

  “Maybe Dragon knows of one. There was something he once told me, but I can’t remember.”

  “How would he know what I need?” Arton slumped against the wall.

  Lorana faced him. “He has lived here and knows a lot about the area. He has flown over the forests. If there is a wood new to you, he might know.”

  “What good is that? How would he understand me?”

  “Remember how when I touch him and you, you can hear each other. He will know what you want.”

  Since he had no other option, why not try? “Let’s do this.” He watched her eyes change until she appeared to be elsewhere. What was happening? A short time later Dragon waddled from the cave where they slept.

  Arton touched Dragon’s side. The softness of the creature’s hide always surprised him. The texture was the same as that of the clothes he wore.

  “Can you hear me?” Nothing sounded in his head.

  Lorana touched his hand and Dragon’s side. ‘Speak to Arton.’

  ‘What?’

  When the deep voice filled his head Arton nearly pulled free. ‘I am a wizard and can use fyrestones to do many things.’

  ‘I know that.’

  Arton sighed. ‘Wizards use the white, but I can sense power in the other colors. I need a wand strong enough to carry the power without burning to ashes.’

  ‘There is one thing,’ Dragon said. ‘Ironwood.’

  Arton wanted to run into the forest and search for this mysterious tree. ‘Where can I find this wood?’

  ‘There is a stand on the higher slopes. Less than a day’s flight for me.’

  ‘Can we go with you?’ Lorana asked.

  ‘Safer if you stay here. A storm approaches.’

  ‘Tell me about this ironwood. The wizards think it’s useless,’ Arton said. ‘Why do you think it will work?’

  ‘Ironwood burns slower, longer and hotter than any other wood. I’ll gather enough so we can use it for fuel here.’

  ‘If the wood has the qualities you mention, it just might work.’

  Dragon walked to the cave opening. Moments later Arton saw the animal take flight. He gasped. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight. The wings resembled slices of moonlight. The dragon’s awkward body seemed to change into a sleek arrow. What would it be like to soar above the earth and view the scenery from on high? He stepped inside.

  Lorana sat beside the fire. “Did you see the clouds? Can you smell the coming snow? I fear he’ll be lost in the storm.”

  Arton sat beside her and clasped her hand. “Have faith and believe he will return with what we need. There will be fuel to keep us warm and pieces of ironwood for my wands.”

  She met his gaze. Her summer sky eyes filled with tears. Arton slid his arm around her shoulders. He wanted to ease her fears. He pulled her closer. His arm tightened around her and he touched his lips to hers.

  Her arms curled around his neck. He ran his tongue along the seam of her mouth. Sensations akin to but stronger than those he’d felt the one time his mentor had sent a woman from the hareem to him flooded his thoughts. When Lorana opened her mouth he slipped his tongue over her teeth and explored her mouth. He felt his body change and he felt ready for something more. Did Lorana know how hareem women served men?

  Untouched, Mecador had said. Arton was to return her untouched. That meant she didn’t know.

  Her hold on him and the touch of her mouth intensified. She murmured low. In that instant he knew he couldn’t obey the chief wizard’s orders. Especially when the man waited to take her in a brutal fashion. Arton lifted her into his arms and carried her to the sleeping cave.

  There she slid to her feet. “I’ll be fine.”

  He couldn’t let her walk away. He drew her into his arms and kissed her. He inched his hands beneath her tunic and stroked her back. As the kiss changed and she moved against him, he lowered her to the blanket and covered her body with his.

  “Let me touch you,” he crooned.

  She stared into his eyes. “Why?”

  “Remember when I was ill and how your hands touched me? Your touches made me feel safe…loved. I want to do the same for you.”

  * * *

  Lorana sighed. She remembered how his skin had felt beneath her fingers. Her breasts felt as heavy as they had then. When his tongue flicked against her neck, she felt a need she didn’t understand but she wanted to learn more. She pulled away and pulled her tunic over her head and saw Arton had done the same with his.

  He touched her breasts. A thrill shot to her private parts. She brushed her hands along his chest. His body felt different from hers. His chest hairs tickled her palms. She lay on the blanket. He stroked her breasts. Arrows of sensation flew to her nether lips and she sighed. Then he bent his head and flicked her nipples with his tongue and drew a hard nub into his mouth. The flooding currents shot to a place between her legs. He suckled like an infant.

  The throbbing grew more intense. She sucked in a breath. Her nails slid down his back. At the same time, while the delicious sensations stormed her body, he had removed his trousers. He slid hers over her hips. Cold air flowed over her bare skin.

  Arton’s mouth sought hers. “Be with me,” he murmured. “Let me show you pleasure today.” His hands slid down her body. Fingers touched her nether lips causing her body to burn.

  “Help me,” she cried.

  “I will.” He continued stroking and nudged her legs apart. His man part slid across the area he had stroked. He groaned. His body rose over hers and he thrust inside. A sharp pain made her dig her nails into his shoulders. He stilled and kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth with a rhythmic motion. The pain vanished. She clung to his shoulders and urged him to move. He did. Before long she burned. Arton tensed. He shoute
d her name. She felt as though her body had burst into flame.

  When those sensations ceased, she sighed. He said something, but she couldn’t hear words among the sounds. Her eyes closed.

  Sometime later she sat up and stared. She wore no clothes. Neither did Arton. What had they done? She turned on her side. Arton slept. She grabbed her clothes and ran down the chilly corridor to the bathing room. She plunged into the water. Was she now his slave? She and Arton had joined bodies the way the hareem women did when their masters sent for them. She’d heard the women speak of those visits.

  She left the water and let the air dry her skin. Once she dressed she scurried to the sleeping chamber and curled on her blanket. She missed Dragon’s warmth. From the outer cave she heard the howl of the wind. She drifted to sleep.

  When she woke she saw a dark shape. Arton lay too close. The torch he’d lit had burned low.

  ‘Dragon, where are you?’ He didn’t answer. She pulled on her boots and ran to the outer cave. Snow swirled in a cloud of white. The flakes were small and covered the ground hiding the brown grass. ‘Dragon, answer me.’

  ‘Hurt.’

  His faint voice frightened her. ‘I will come to you.’ If he died, there would be no safety for her. She scurried to the sleeping chamber and grabbed her blanket to use as a cloak.

  Arton grabbed her arm. “Where are you going?”

  “Dragon spoke to me. He’s hurt. I must help him.”

  “Where is he? Can’t you see the storm has arrived? You can’t go. I order you to remain.”

  She whirled. “I am not your slave. Your orders mean nothing. I promised him and I will go to help him.”

  His grip on her arms tightened. “You lay with me. That’s what the female slaves do. They lay with the wizards and obey.” He bent his head and kissed her.

  With anger rising to the boiling point she pushed on his chest. He fell. She remained standing. “Dragon is my friend. He saved me from death. I will save him. You won’t stop me. I am not your slave.”

  Arton scrambled to his feet. “I’m sorry about Dragon. To go into the storm is foolish, but I’ll go with you. We need to take food for us and for Dragon. Bring the water flasks. Yours and the one I made. Take the water from the hottest part of the pool.”

  Lorana scurried off to fill the flasks. Arton’s offer to go with her brought relief. Though she could hear Dragon and follow his voice to reach him, the storm could present obstacles and dangers.

  When she returned to the other room she saw Arton had filled his pack and hers. He glanced at her. “Food. Dry socks.” He held a rope of braided deerskin and tied one end to his belt and the other to hers. He hooked a second large coil around his shoulder. “This way we’ll stay together.” He handed her a staff he had made.

  She stepped into the swirling snow. The blanket of white covered the ground and the trees. Line of sight diminished to several feet.

  “Which way?” Arton asked.

  Lorana held up her hand and listened for Dragon. When she heard his faint voice she pointed. “This way.

  As the snow continued, traveling became more difficult. The depth increased. Walking became a trouble. Instead of taking his position behind her Arton moved to her side.

  Lorana tripped. Arton kept her from falling over a fallen snow-covered tree. He drew her into a sheltered area. With the orange stone he started a fire. They heated water and drank broth made from dried meat. When they finished, they set out again.

  She wasn’t sure how many times they stopped or how many hours or days had passed since they left the cave. “Hurry.” She said. Though she tried slogging faster the knee-high snow kept the pace slow. All she was aware of was the cold and the white falling snow.

  ‘Hungry. Hurts.’

  Dragon’s cries made her try to run. She noticed Arton picked up pieces of tree branches that had fallen. She gathered some as well. Finally she saw the snow-covered heap that could only be her friend. She staggered forward and saw one of his wings spread on the snow.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked.

  ‘Snow turned to ice on one wing. Overbalanced and fell.’

  ‘Have you eaten?’

  ‘Soon after I fell. My front talons snagged a boar. Tasty.’

  ‘Your injuries?’ She finally reached him.

  ‘Some broken bones. I’ll direct you to binding them.’

  She relayed the news to Arton. “He’ll tell us what to do.”

  Arton nodded. “Tell him we will listen. Ask what we will need.”

  “First he needs to eat. Fresh meat would be best. There are some berries and thorns in my pack. They will help. Then we’ll need to bend and bind the wing to his body.”

  Arton pulled a white tipped wand from his belt sheath. “I’ll return soon.”

  “What if you become lost?”

  He kissed her forehead. “I’ll think of you and Dragon and use the wand to find you.” He set off at a run toward the stand of gnarled trees.

  Lorana returned to Dragon. ‘Will he be safe?’

  ‘Yes.’

  A short time later Arton appeared. He dragged a roe deer over the snow. Lorana helped him butcher the kill. She mixed berries and thorns with chunks of meat.

  While Dragon ate Lorana reached for Arton’s hand. ‘Dragon, tell us what to do.’

  ‘Find some ironwood sticks,’ Dragon said. ‘About this long.’ He sent the length as pictures.

  ‘Where is this ironwood?’

  ‘In that pile. There are four breaks to be repaired.’

  Arton went to the heap of snow-covered wood and brushed some of the accumulation away. He gathered several pieces and brought them to where Lorana and Dragon waited. One by one he held them up.

  ‘Not that one. Yes. Yes. Yes. No. Yes. Yes.’

  Lorana relayed the information to Arton. Together they placed the splints in place and after each one, they folded that part of the wing. Finally they bound the wing to Dragon’s body. His roars and cries made Lorana stop several times.

  Arton put his arm around her. “We must do this.”

  “I know.” Yet every time Dragon growled and groaned she winced.

  The moment they finished she hung a large roast over the fire. When most had thawed she fed Dragon. She and Arton ate and curled against Dragon for the warmth and slept.

  When she woke no snow fell. She and Arton broke their fast on scraps of the roasted meat. They set about binding the huge pile of ironwood with ropes made from vines and the braided leather. Dragon helped by lifting the stack so the ropes could be slid beneath. With the three of them pushing, the huge pile slid down the slope. Lorana was glad they didn’t have to push the stack up any hill. Avoiding the fallen trees or buried rocks was hard enough.

  Three cold days of travel brought them to the cave. Lorana worried about Dragon. He moved slowly. His body temperature seemed lower. She noticed his yellow hide had a gray cast.

  She touched him. ‘What do we do now?’

  ‘Take me to the heated pool and spread my wing on the water. I will heal slowly.’

  “Arton, Dragon goes to the pool. After he settles I’ll spread his wing.”

  “We should take turns so one of us doesn’t remain in the pool too long.”

  “Good thought.”

  Once Dragon reached the pool and waded into the water, Lorana stripped and swam to his side to begin cutting the leather ropes. Slowly the wing unfolded. Dragon’s growls caused her to cry.

  Arton swam to them. “Go. I’ll finish.”

  Lorana reached the edge of the pool. Air dried her skin. She dressed and watched Arton work

  * * *

  Dragon floated in the pool. He drifted toward the hottest part of the water. The wing would heal, but spring would arrive before he could leave the comfort of the heat. Would the wizards wait beyond the season change to hunt for Lorana and Arton? He remembered what Arton had said about finding people using the wand. That boded evil.

  Though he promised to sleep, pain kept
him awake. He fought the urge to speak to Lorana. He didn’t want to share the agony of healing. She was his friend.

  Arton’s assistance pleased him. The young man tried to protect and help Lorana. He had comforted her. Dragon recalled the past when riders of the reds and blues mated and helped each other. Though he was the only dragon here, Lorana and Arton could become like those men and women.

  Gradually the pain eased. Dragon sought Lorana. She was in the outer cave sewing leaper and climber skins. Arton stared at the yellow, orange and red stones.

  ‘Lorana, what is he doing?’

  ‘He fastens colored stones to the ironwood wands. He thinks there is a way to heal your wing but he hesitates to try.’

  Dragon searched his memories. He brought Arton’s deepest ones to the surface. A woman held a red stone on a chain above a child’s head. The deep cut on the child’s wounded leg stopped bleeding. The cut healed. Was this possible?

  ‘Tell him I want him to try.’

  ‘He said he must think about what he needs to do.’

  ‘I will wait.’

  * * *

  The flames of the fire caught the gems, making them glow. Arton studied the four colors. Would mounting them to the ironwood wands help maintain the length of time they held their power. He knew the purpose of three. Was his theory about the red correct? To him red meant blood, a necessity to life. Something about the color triggered his belief he could use the red to heal. Was this some memory from the days before he’d been adopted by a wizard? He might never know.

  He selected pieces of ironwood. The wythes were about the length of his forearm from wrist to elbow. They were less flexible than any of the woods he’d tried to use. Would this make a difference?

  “Dragon really wants you to try to heal his bones.”

  “I will, but not until I see how the stones function when joined to these new wands.”

  She reached for one of the wythes and a piece of rough sandstone. “Where should I begin?”