Dragon hovered over them. He held the charred body of the ice wolf in his front talons.
“Dragon says he will carry the remains far from our camp. He wants us to be wary. He fears the wolf’s mate will follow.”
Arton nodded. “We will be careful.”
Lorana’s arms tightened around him. She sought his mouth with hers. The moment the kiss ended, Arton stripped off his clothes and assisted her in undressing. He pulled his cloak over them to protect them from the chilly air.
He caressed her breasts. She massaged his back. His lips moved from her mouth and moved across her chin to her chest. He flicked her neck. Sensations stormed his body.
* * *
Lorana moaned with pleasure. Arton’s hands moved down her body and reached her belly. They edged lower and touched a place making her breathing change into panting gasps.
Though the air on her face was cold, her body felt hot. Every touch of his hands made her want more. His hands moved down her body while his mouth slid across her chest, her neck and to her lips. He caressed the seam with his tongue. Her tongue touched his. Their hands met and fingers twined.
His man part slid over her sensitive bud. She wanted what they’d experienced before. “Please,” she whispered.
He kissed her again and released her hands. She felt his slow penetration. He held her close and began to move. Heat rose. She felt as though an ironwood fire consumed her, Soon they moved into a frantic dance toward completion. He raised his head and cried her name. Her body tensed and exploded.
“Arton.” His name flowed on a breath.
“I will be with you always.” He reached for his belt and opened a pouch. He dug among the stones. “I found this ring and bought it from a clansman for you.”
Lorana held the ring into the light. “A dragon.”
He kissed her lightly. “Even before I met Dragon, when I saw the ring I thought of you.”
“Thank you. I will be at your side forever.” She snuggled against him. She felt so at ease with him. What had changed? In her heart she knew the answer.
‘You and Arton are like the red and blue riders of dragons.’
‘But there are no dragons for us to ride.’
‘That is true, but the bond is the same.’
Arton stirred. “What?” His voice, rough with sleep, made her smile.
“This is what Dragon said.” She repeated her friend’s words.
Arton chuckled. “So, we’re mates.”
“Not just that. We’re equals, like the riders were.”
“I see.”
Dragon landed and curled his body around them. ‘Sleep.’
When morning arrived, Lorana’s stomach ached with hunger. She pulled on her clothes and slid from the covers. After adding wood to the smoldering fire she collected water. Once the water steamed, she woke Arton.
He quickly dressed and helped her with the morning meal. They ate the cooked okala flour with wasp honey drizzled over the top. After loading Dragon they filled their flasks. Most of the snow had melted. The air warmed. Patches of ice glistened.
She looked into Arton’s eyes. “I wonder how much further we must travel.”
He clasped her hand. “And when we will reach our destination. I pray the clans will join us.”
* * *
Dragon scoured the rocks searching for a place to make camp for the night. He spotted the moving figure of an ice wolf in the midst of a seasonal change. The sinuous slink of the creature toward his friends made him believe this was the mate of the one they’d killed. Dragon prepared to attack. He flapped his wings to gain height. The packs he carried, though much lighter than when the journey began, impeded him from reaching the height he wanted. He dove toward the beast.
The ice wolf reared on its back legs and slashed his front claws over Dragon’s belly. He roared with pain. The wolf ran. Dragon grabbed the beast by the neck and shook the wolf’s body. He soared into the air and opened his jaws. The creature splattered on the rocks.
Dragon flew to his friends. The slashes on his belly burned. ‘Help. Hurt.’
Lorana grabbed Arton’s hand. They touched Dragon’s body. He kept his wound belly from touching the ground. Arton pulled a red-tipped wand from the sheath. He lay on the ground and ran the ray from the wand across Dragon’s belly. Heat signaled healing. Dragon’s legs trembled, but he kept from kneeling. The weakness from the loss of body fluid ebbed. The process of healing astonished him. He felt ages younger.
‘How do I look?’ Dragon asked. ‘Am I green?’
Lorana laughed. ‘There’s a tint of green to your hide.’
Dragon rose on his hind legs. The healed skin didn’t itch or hurt. ‘I am hungry.’
‘So is Arton.’ Lorana soaked pieces of dried meat in warm water. Dragon ate them as fast as they appeared. Fresh would be better, but he was too tired to hunt. He closed his eyes and slept.
When he woke the weather was warmer. A light breeze brought the scent of new growth. He led his friends through the rocky waste. A familiar aroma reached him. He hovered low and saw a small stand of fyrethorn bushes. He landed and studied the cluster. Plump and dried berries filled the bushes. The thorns were long and waiting to be harvested. Many were scattered on the ground beneath the bushes. Could the rocks be the remains of a manor of a dead dragon line? He would never know. He landed and waited for his friends.
When they arrived, Lorana ran to him. ‘Fyrethorns here. Arton and I will gather some for you.’
‘I will hunt.’
‘We will camp here.’
Dragon took flight. Before long he returned with two animals resembling giant leapers. While Arton butchered the pair, Lorana gathered berries and thorns. She added them to Dragon’s portion of the meat. Just as his friends began their meal, he finished his.
‘How do you feel?’ Lorana touched his side and clasped Arton’s hand.
‘Strong and healthy.’
‘I’m glad,’ Arton said.
‘Are we ever going to reach the desert?’ Lorana asked. ‘I want to find the clans.’
‘So do I, before the wizards start their search,’ Arton said.
‘I saw a group of clansmen herding several extra of their riding beasts,’ Dragon said.
‘Will we reach them soon?’ Lorana asked.
‘I will lead them to you,’ Dragon said.
Chapter Ten
Arton slipped from the rocks onto the sand. He took a step. Why were they leaving this spot? Here they had water, and he’d caught rock leapers to add to the creatures Dragon had brought. How far must they travel to reach another water source? Why couldn’t Dragon lead the clan members he’d seen to this place? The men were a day’s flight away. The problem was Arton had no idea of what that distance meant to a man on foot or one riding a beast.
Lorana stepped from the rocks onto the sand. “Where do we go now?”
“In the direction Dragon flew. When he returns, perhaps he can tell us where the next water source lies.”
“We filled all the empty sacks. Don’t you think eight will be enough?”
Arton shook his head. “I don’t know. They’re with Dragon. We only have the smaller flasks.”
“Those will do for today.”
He pulled a wand with a white stone free. “I could use this to guide us to one of the clans.”
“Even if you don’t know any of the members?” She touched his hand.
He smiled. “When the wizards went to the last gathering, I went, too. I fought some of the men. I didn’t win all the bouts, so there are some men of the yellow clan I could find.”
A sense of shame filled him. The fighters he’d beaten had been taken to the citadel and sold to the traders. His time with Dragon and Lorana had shown him how wrong his actions had been.
Her hand tightened on his. “Will using the wand to search for the wizards alert them and allow them to find us?”
“Possibly.” He nodded. “If we’re going to take the message of rebellion to
the clans, we must know where the wizards are.” He slid his arm around her shoulders.
She twisted the dragon ring. “Will the clansmen believe us? I fear if they don’t, I’ll lose my chance to live free.”
He felt her fear in the tremors of her body. No way would he permit Mecador and Cregan to take her. “You will raise an army. By working together we won’t fail.” He hoped the forced confidence in his voice would encourage her.
He stepped away so he wouldn’t transmit his own concerns to her. Either they would win, or they would die. One time she’d said those words. He would do all he could to keep her safe from the evil pair.
She turned. “We need to return to the small stand of fyrethorns. I must brew cordial and poison.”
“Why?”
“We may need them.”
“If we don’t follow him to the next camp he selects, how will he find us?” He waited while her eyes took on that faraway look. They didn’t.
She released a breath. “He said my idea was a good one. We will need berries and thorns for all his feedings before we fight the wizards.”
“Will you ruin our cooking pots?”
She shook her head. “I’ll only use one. We’ll have two and the flat plate for our meals.”
Though he wanted more information on her plans for the two brews, he kept the question unasked. He didn’t want to know the answer. He donned his pack and helped her with hers. While returning to the small tangle seemed like a retreat, he led the way.
* * *
By evening they reached the tangle. Lorana picked and crushed berries, added water and set the pot over one of the fires Arton had started. This blaze was at a distance from their camp. She returned to the thicket and filled a sack with berries, pausing several times to stir the cordial. Just as the sun set, she was able to decant the brew and clean the pot.
Arton called her to the campfire. “Eat and rest until morning.”
“A good idea. I’m exhausted.” She sat beside him and ate the stew. Yawns sent her to her blankets.
At sunrise she rose and began to pick enough thorns to fill the pot. After adding water she set the liquid on the fire. She gathered a sack of thorns and one of berries for Dragon’s needs.
Arton rose from his place at the fire. “Why did you make the cordial?”
“Dragon thinks if you drink some, you can talk without using me as a bridge.”
“And the poison?”
“I’m making enough for the blades of the clan. They need a way to counter the wands of the wizards.”
“Must we fight with poison?”
She had known he would protest. “I’ll tell you my reasons later. I must attend to the brew.” She walked to the fire.
Dragon returned with two large desert leapers. While Arton cut meat from the bones she gathered thorns and berries to add to Dragon’s meal.
He ate with growls and rumbles. ‘This is how a dragon should eat.’
Lorana joined Arton at the campfire. ‘When we defeat the wizards, you will feast every meal. There is a large fyrethorn tangle near the citadel. We can live there and have free access.’
‘Good.’
She chuckled. ‘Once Arton and I eat, I’ll give him a dose of the cordial.’
The sun moved toward the west. Lorana poured some of the cordial into a mug. She added water, honey and spirits.
Arton frowned. “Are you sure this won’t hurt me?”
“You’ll be fine,” she said. “Drink.”
As though drinking some form of poison, he gulped the contents of the mug. Had his other times of being open to Dragon’s thoughts harmed him? He handed her the cup. “Now what?”
“Just wait. Dragon will speak to you.” She held his hand and avoided touching Dragon. For her to be the conduit made the experiment useless.
Arton’s eyes widened. “I hear him.” He pulled his hand free, rose and walked in a circle.
‘Lorana, join us,’ Dragon said.
Lorana opened herself to the flow of information. She saw and heard Dragon’s scenes from the past, focusing on the wizard’s treatment of the clans. She saw how the evil men had tortured children to force their terms on the clans. Those scenes sickened her.
Arton raised his head. ‘They were weasels.’
‘Yes,’ she said.
‘I may never sleep in peace again.’ Arton’s thoughts were dark.
She put her arms around him. ‘You will.’
‘Yes,’ Dragon said. ‘Find comfort in each other.’
* * *
Arton woke to a bright day. Then he saw Lorana pouring poison into a sack lined with a deer bladder. He knew of her plan to coat weapons with poison. Though the scenes of cruelty Dragon had shown him of the wizards torturing children remained vivid, he still couldn’t accept the poison. He remembered his brush with death. The agony he’d experienced colored his emotions. Did all wizards deserve to die that way?
He joined Lorana at the fire. “I have a problem with using poisoned weapons.”
Lorana scowled. “For generations the wizards have tortured any captured clansmen, women, and children. They had sold them to be used in ways that are vile. Why would I not want to see this end? Why don’t you see the punishment is just?”
Arton drew a deep breath. “Not all the wizards are evil. Mecador and his cronies, including his son, deserve death. But the other men, friends of my mentor, are kind men. Though my mentor was saddened by his failure to father a true son, he raised me with love and hope. His friends supported me for the council seat.”
Lorana rose and paced around the fire. “Not all the wizards will die from the poisoning. I’ve treated five of them for mild thorn poisonings. There may be others who have survived a small dose of the poison. They won’t die either.”
Arton rose. “I must think.” He grabbed a water flask and walked away. How could he sanction the killing of men who had raised and trained him? They weren’t the ones Dragon had shown him. Those evils had happened in the past.
He wandered from the camp not sure where he headed. His thoughts filled with possibilities. Which of the wizards had immunity to the poison? Would knowing make a difference in how he felt?
He thought of the things he remembered. Years ago when he was young, one of the hareem women had fought the wizard who was her master. She had been nailed to the hareem gate until she died.
He sank to the ground. A rare event, but one showing the shards of cruelty in the wizards. Lorana had been right.
Above him a dark shadow appeared. Dragon landed on the ground. Arton wished he had some of the cordial so he and Dragon could talk. The animal butted Arton’s back. He rose and allowed the dragon to urge him toward the camp. He wasn’t sure what he would say to Lorana. Admitting she was right would be hard.
* * *
The moment Dragon was sure Arton walked toward the camp, he flapped his wings and soon soared. He wished he could speak to the young man as easily as he and Lorana spoke. He remained above Arton to make sure the stubborn young man continued to the place where Lorana waited. Though she understood Arton’s reluctance, Dragon didn’t. The need to drive the wizards from the citadel was vital. Disturbed by Arton’s slow pace, Dragon swooped low and urged the young man into a loping stride.
Once Arton stumbled into camp and sank to the ground near the fire, Dragon landed. He paused at the waterfall to drink and then joined his friends. ‘Give him the cordial. I must bond him to our cause.’
‘Is that wise?’ Lorana asked. ‘He barely recovered from the last dose.’
‘We must be sure he is with us.’
Lorana sat beside Dragon. ‘Let me be the bridge.’
Dragon closed his eyes. ‘We can try that method.’
Lorana reached for Arton. She touched his hand. “Dragon wants to speak to you.”
“I hear you. Can Dragon hear me?”
‘I can. I want to show you more.’ Dragon began with the day he hatched. He allowed Arton to see the happiness of the people
who lived in the citadel. He showed glimpses of his growing years. He felt joy in remembering his first attempts at flight and the sprawling falls. Dragon showed his pleasure when he learned his mother carried a red and a blue egg. When hatched they would become his companions.
When the wizards came, his family retreated to the cave system. The wizards followed and wreaked havoc, destroying dragons and people as they moved closer to the cavern. His mother and his chance for companions had died during the invasion. Dragon had listened to the deaths of those who had remained to allow the strongest to survive.
‘Alone. Forever alone. No red or blue to teach, guide and train.’ Though he’d wanted to follow them into death, the oldest yellow had sent him into the hibernating sleep.
Dragon heard gut wrenching sobs from Arton. ‘The past can’t be changed. The present can. Go to your blankets. In the morning wake with the fire to see changes occur.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘You were not there. You are not one of them. Remember this. Do not drag the evilness of the invaders into your dreams. Keep hope in your heart.’
Dragon settled his head between his paws. With good fortune, Arton would wake and be committed to driving the wizards away.
The first light of dawn roused him. After a meal of meat laced with the thorns and berries Dragon soared into the sky. He searched for the clansmen he had spotted yesterday and saw they still traveled toward Lorana and Arton.
* * *
Cregan added several pair of socks to his carry pack. He was ready for the trek into the hills to find Arton and the reward. He pulled a small ceramic bottle of fyrethorn poison he’d stolen from the large jug the wizard sold to the traders. With care, he dipped the blade of his spare knife into the vial to coat the blade. After the liquid dried he applied a second coat.
Cregan smiled. He leaned back in his chair and watched an imagined scene unfold.
Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) Page 12