Lorana grasped Arton’s hand. “You can help.”
He swallowed. “Are you sure I should try? They distrust me.”
“Yes. Use the red stone the way you healed Dragon’s wing and his wounds from the ice wolf.”
He stared at the ground. “I am a wizard. They won’t let me try. How can they trust me not to harm the child?”
“I’ve spoken to Dragon. He will insist they allow you to heal the boy.”
Though he feared doing what she wanted, he followed her to a place where a crowd gathered around a small child. He stared at the unmoving body and gripped the wand with a red stone at the tip. His heart hammered in his chest. He feared failure, but the grief on the faces of Temerol and his spouse called for him to try.
After gulping a deep breath he stared at the faces of the men, women, and children who stood near the boy’s parents. Though these people approved of Dragon and Lorana, Arton feared a wrong move on his part would see his life and Lorana’s ended beneath spears, knives and arrows.
Lorana touched his hand. “You can and you must do this.”
“What if I fail? Using the wand can drain me completely.”
She stared into his eyes. The blaze of love and faith filled him with confidence. “Walk with me.”
He clasped her hand. “Come along. If I appear alone, they will turn on me.”
“I fear you’re right. Dragon says the same.”
With slow steps, he and Lorana wove a path among the gathered clansmen and women. Arton eased the wand holding the red fyrestone from his sheath. For a moment he hesitated. Drawing a deep breath he raised the wand above the child’s head. He powered the stone and watched the red glow with the rich color of freshly shed blood.
Though he had no knowledge of the number of bones broken he assessed the child’s body and felt overwhelmed by the number of injuries. The boy’s chest barely moved, causing the child to breath in shallow, rapid breaths. Arton focused the beam on this area rolling the color over the ribs and chest. The sounds of breathing changed, became deeper and slower. Murmurs from the gathered people raised Arton’s ability to continue.
The wand turned. The healing ray focused on the boy’s head. His color improved. He opened his eyes.
“Mama, Papa, I can breathe but I can’t move.”
Arton sucked in a breath. What now? He focused a stream of red over the child’s arms, pelvis and legs. The child’s fingers clenched. He wiggled his toes.
Though Arton felt a sweep of exhaustion, he continued. “Lorana, you must turn him so I can use the ray on his back.”
Lorana crouched beside the boy’s parents. Arton struggled to keep the ray from fading. Strength sapped from him. The three adults turned the child on his side. Arton fought to keep the beam steady as he ran the light from the tailbone along the spine to where the bones joined the head. He could almost hear the snaps as the broken pieces clicked into place.
The red ray sputtered and died. Arton’s knees buckled. He sprawled on the ground. Lorana grasped his wrist and steadied his stuttering heart.
“What do you need?” she asked.
“Water. Food.” He pushed the words out.
“Mama, Papa, the pain is all gone.”
The boy’s excited chatter brought warmth to Arton’s chilled body. He raised his head. “After I eat I must sleep.”
Lorana turned to Temerol. “He needs water and food.”
The woman rose. Before long she returned with a water flask. She also carried four rolls of flatbread filled with spicy meat, peppers and onions. Arton managed to sit. After drinking several cup of water he devoured the rolls.
The woman touched his shoulder. “My thanks for the healing and the life of my son. I name you as a friend of the Yellow clan.”
Arton finished the last roll and drank more water. With Lorana’s help he walked to the shade of a tree. He pulled his cloak over himself, closed his eyes and surrendered to exhaustion.
Lorana stroked his cheek. “Arton, wake. The clan is meeting to discuss joining us in facing the wizards. Dragon thinks we should be present.”
Arton yawned. Though he would rather sleep, he rose and followed her to where the members of the clan had gathered. Lorana clasped his hand.
She looked into his eyes. “Tell them what we plan.”
Arton raised his hands. “Lorana, Dragon, and I hope you will join us in driving the wizards from this land.”
“How do we stand a chance?” a voice from the crowd asked.
Arton spoke of the survival of a dragon. He pulled his wands free. “Unlike the other wizards I can control all the colors.” One by one he powered each one. The light from the yellow awed the people. When he used an orange to light a fire some of the people cheered. “You have seen what the red can do.”
“When they are gone what will you do?” a woman asked.
“Form a family with Lorana. See the citadel filled with free people as was in the days of yore. Keep Dragon healthy so he will have a long life.” He sat and listened to the voices of the men and women.
Before long the discussion ended. Arton had seen several men join the group. They spoke to the yellow clan leader. The members of the clan milled about. Their knee-length caftans and flared trousers made them appear like changing colored pictures. One by one men, women, and children stood in front of Dragon.
“The yellow clan will join the rebellion,” Temerol said.
Two men bowed to Dragon. “The blue clan stands with you. A dozen fighters will arrive tomorrow.”
“As will the members of the green clan.” The second man bowed. “Tell us what we must do.”
“Dragon will scout and find where the wizards are and when they will arrive. He will find a place for us to hide and ambush them.”
Lorana nodded. “Each clan will choose a dozen men and women. The rest of the yellow clan should leave to seek a safe place.”
“What of the red clan?” Temerol asked. “They are the farthest and would join us if they can reach us before the battle.”
“We will welcome them even if they cannot join the battle,” Arton said.
Chapter Twelve
Once the yellow clan and the representatives of the blue and green made the decision to become part of the rebellion, Dragon took flight. He sought the high thermals and soared above the beaten earth path from the oasis to the citadel. He searched for places where the fighters from the clans could hide and wait for the wizards.
Three times he landed at outcroppings of rocks to investigate the possibilities. The one closest to the oasis had been worn by wind-driven sand into smoothness. Good hiding places were scarce. The one closest to the citadel could work, but the middle one was perfect.
The small and large spaces hidden among the tumbled rocks were places where several fighters could shelter and still have a perfect view of the road. He could have returned to report, but he wanted to learn where the wizards were. Arton said they had abandoned their northern search and headed for the oasis.
After a day’s flight from the citadel he spotted men leading burden beasts. He counted nine men wearing clothes of dragon skin. Though he fought the impulse, a closer sight of the evil ones brought anger boiling into his thoughts. Memories of the days when the arrival of those wizards had ripped his life apart poured into him. He couldn’t attack. That wasn’t the reason for his presence.
His attempt to control the blazing anger sent him lower than he should have flown. Someone waved hands and pointed skyward. A white ray shot toward him. Dragon stroked as hard as possible soaring higher with each beat. The line of fire failed to touch him but his presence had been revealed.
Hovering out of reach, he listened to the voices. Though he couldn’t hear more than their surface thoughts, some of the men with the wizards where guards. Their kinship to the dragon riders of old allowed him to hear their plans for traveling to the oasis. The wizards had located Arton and Lorana camped there. Five days would bring the wizards to the best of the ambush plac
es.
* * *
Lorana tensed. Dragon’s angry cries filled her thoughts. She pressed her hands against her head. She noticed the pained looks on the faces of several clansmen and women. What had caused his anger with himself and the dark undertones of regret?
‘Dragon, are you hurt?’ She had to blast the question several times.
‘Not hurt. Acted the fool. They saw me.’
‘Where are they?’
‘On the oasis road. Four or five days march from the ambush place I’ve chosen.’ He sent her a picture of the area.
‘How long will it take to reach that place?’
‘Maybe two or three days.’
Lorana turned to Arton and the three clan leaders. Only the red clan hadn’t yet sent fighters. “Dragon has found the wizards. He has located a good place for an ambush.”
Before Dragon landed, several men from the red clan arrived. Their leader, four men and two women rode at his side. Their steeds’ coats were drenched with sweat.
The leader dismounted. “There are five more fighters a day’s travel behind us. The remainder of our warriors stayed to protect the young and elderly.”
“We can wait for the five,” Arton said. “While we remain here, we should each pack supplies enough to last for six or seven days.” He turned to Lorana. “Dragon will need to hunt for his food.”
The red leader raised his spear. “How does a wizard have leave to speak?”
Temerol waved the spear down. “He’s a friend of the clan. A stud threw my son. The boy was near death. The wizard used his wand and healed broken bones, even those of the spine.”
“Amazing,” the red leader said.
The yellow clan leader stepped to Arton’s side. “During the gathering, he stopped a fight with a rule-breaking wizard by producing a blinding light. The other wizards wanted to use his wand against us.”
Dragon landed. Arton rubbed the velvety side of his friend. The red leader bowed his head. Children clustered around the animal.
Lorana opened her mind to Dragon. ‘What should we do now?’
‘You must leave in the morning and reach the place I found. Tell the clans there will be no frontal assault. They will attack from the shadows.’
She frowned. ‘Will they agree? What about their honor?’
‘The only honor will come from the defeat of the evil men.’
Lorana passed Dragon’s message to Arton and the leaders. “Now we must prepare.”
The oasis turned into the hive of honey wasps with people scurrying around. Packets of food were made for each man and woman to carry. Dragon left to hunt for his food.
“How will we do this?” Temerol asked.
Arton rose. “I have wands the wizards cannot use. When we spot them I will use the yellow blinding light.” He clasped Lorana’s hand. “We can help with the preparations. When Dragon returns we will prepare food for him.”
She nodded, “He will bring his catch here so we can add berries and thorns. They are important to his ability to fly long distances.”
Though the evening meal lasted until moonrise the camp soon quieted. Lorana slept in Arton’s arms with Dragon at their backs.
The moment the sun rose, Lorana kissed Arton. She stretched and began her morning preparations. Arton followed her to the fire. Once the meal ended, Lorana poured the poison into a clay jar. She tossed the leather sack into the fire. One by one those chosen to face the wizards dipped arrows, spears or knives into the poison. Each fighter shouldered a blanket roll and a sack of food for the journey and the wait. They mounted their steeds and waited for Lorana and Arton. Several men went along to herd the steeds back to the oasis.
Lorana dipped one of her knives into the poison. She put that blade into a new sheath. When all had finished treating weapons she took the jar to the fire and poured the remains into the flames. She broke the jar and added it to the fire. This completed, she mounted one of the steeds and rode to Arton’s side. Dragon flapped his wings and flew ahead of them. The forty-eight, plus four herders, rode from a soon-to-be deserted oasis.
After two days of traveling well into the night, they reached the second of the rocky outcroppings. Lorana studied the formation. Had this once been a structure like the citadel?
‘Where are the wizards?’ She sent the question to Dragon.
He landed. ‘They will reach this place by midday of the day after tomorrow.’
‘How many are they?’ she asked.
‘Nine wizards. Ten guards.’
‘How many of the guards are clan related?’
‘Only two have clan ties.’
Lorana stepped away from Dragon. She told the gathered men and women what Dragon had said.
Arton handed her a flatbread stuffed with meat and dates. “We’ll eat and then find places where we will wait for the day they arrive. Some of the men have reported many places where we can hide and yet fight. Most of the areas will hold at least four.”
“Good. Do they all overlook the road?” She released the reins of her mount and allowed one of the herders to take the equine away. Soon the animals galloped away to return to the oasis. One steed remained staked in a small grassy area behind the rocks. The rider would go to the oasis and bring the herd back after the battle ended.
Once everyone had eaten, they scattered to find hiding places. Arton led Lorana to their perch. The small area was large enough for both of them, and the rocks formed a perch for Dragon. A break in the wall overlooked the plain. From here they could see in four directions.
Lorana made a nest of their blankets and Arton’s cloak. “This is a fortunate place,” she said. With five springs, we don’t have to worry about water. Do you think this is the remains of a building?”
“Could be, but we’ll never know unless Dragon remembers.” Arton opened his pack. He used a wand to clear any vermin from the area.
* * *
Cregan woke with the sun and joined the other wizards at the fire. Tomorrow they would reach the second outcropping of rocks by midday. Then another day plus a few hours would find them at the oasis where Mecador said Arton and Lorana had settled with the dragon. Where had they found such a creature? Cregan knew the stories of the wizards’ arrival and how they had destroyed all except a few dragons that had fled. Though the traders had learned of a fresh supply for the hides, now they could no longer provide dragon skins. Were there more dragons than the one he’d seen on this side of the mountains?
As he dished porridge into a bowl, he thought about the dragon. He wondered if the pair rode the creature. If so they could see the land for miles. He scanned the sky and saw no sight of the animal.
Mecador sat beside him. “We’ll reach the rocks while there’s still time to travel, but I think we should make camp early. We can rest during the head to the day and move on after the air cools. We’ll walk until we reach the next outcropping. You will challenge and defeat Arton. Once you have been given the council seat, kill him. I’ll take care of Lorana.”
Cregan hid a smile. His mentor wouldn’t have that honor. He would be dead. There would be a new chief wizard named Cregan. He raised his head. “Our arrival at the oasis will signal a good day. I will be the winner.”
Mecador ate some porridge. “When we make our stand and enter the oasis, I will lead the men. I’ve more experience with the clan’s fighting methods than you. Did you know they have decided to rebel?”
Though Cregan had no knowledge of the clan’s position he nodded. “The choice to lead is yours.” He turned away. Should he waste a wand searching for the exact position of the enemy? He decided Mecador’s knowledge was enough.
His father laughed. “I am chief of the wizards. Once I claim and train your reward you will sit at my side at the council table.”
Cregan’s hands formed fists. Did his father think those words were pleasing? If anyone broke Lorana he would be the one. He drained his bowl. “Time to leave.” He left his dish beside the fire for the guards to clean. A line of ants
moved toward the bowl. He flicked the leader out of line and the ants scattered. Just the way the clansmen would.
Mecador stood. He raised a wand and called the other wizards to order. “Let us depart. By midday or a bit later we will reach the next rocky area. There is water there. We will rest in the shade of the outcroppings and leave as the sun travels far to the west. Then we will make camp at the last group of rocks. In the morning we will clear out enemies from the land. No more will the clans rebel. Those men will form our army. We will depart in the traders’ ships and take control of the Island of Fyre.”
A cheer rose. Cregan shouted with the rest. He liked the plan but he, not Mecador, would lead the wizards to triumph.
As Cregan followed the eight wizards, he thought about his father’s plans for attacking the oasis. The plan was based on the clans’ warriors following their usual plan of attack. Would they behave that way? Arton rode with them. Could he persuade them to follow a different kind of attack? Cregan bit his lip. The possibility of his father being wrong excited him. If Mecador’s plan failed, the other wizards would desert him.
He kept his rear position. Mecador led. The sun inched across the sky pulling shadows from the land. New growth grass lightened the brown of winter. Some scattered shrubs sent forth new leaves. In the distance a herd of bovines grazed.
As the sun neared midday Cregan saw a towering tower of stone. Mecador reached them. Guards marched at his side. Seven wizards joined him. Cregan remained at the rear of the group.
A spear thudded on the ground landing at Mecador’s feet. After a moment of stunned silence, the chief wizard raised his wand. “Who dares?” he roared. He sent a ray of white fire toward the spot where he spear had originated.
“Leave. Return to the citadel. Gather your possessions and your families. Leave on the next trader’s ship. You are no longer welcome.”
Cregan threaded three wands between the fingers of his left hand. In his right he held the poison knife. He recognized the voice as belonging to his rival.
Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) Page 14