by T M Miller
‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘I thought of you, when it looked like it was all over…’ He closed his eyes, remembering. ‘All those riders… I saw one die right in front of me. I tried to reach him. Mum, it was terrible.’
Rella’s hand stroked his cheek and rested there, her hazel eyes haunted. ‘Such a waste of young life.’ Jaron nodded, he remembered how he had come to the same conclusion. ‘I saw a rider killed, Jaron,’ she whispered. ‘Right there in front of my eyes in the arena. You were racing next to that kelpra at one point.’
So the jockey hadn’t survived. His mother continued in the same strained low voice. ‘And the crowd, it wasn’t long before they were cheering again. It felt like we were throwing you all to the lions, as if you were mere fodder for our entertainment.’
‘Was Brill alright?’ Jaron asked.
‘Yes, we waited and the crowd were getting impatient. When he came riding into the arena, the beast was stumbling and they both looked exhausted.’ Rella sat straighter, her eyes shining now with anger. ‘The crowd cheered then, and Lord Bell stood up and shouted that Tiara had won the Great Wake. Even I could see something was wrong, but they were all blind, or refused to see. Even after we got the full story it didn’t seem to cross Bell’s mind to take back his claim.’ She shook her head in disbelief.
‘Carna said he was following us,’ Jaron said. ‘Did you know?’
‘He offered to.’ She watched him. ‘Thank the Gods.’
Jaron silently agreed. ‘How many survived?’ he asked in a small voice.
‘Four, including Brill,’ she swallowed. ‘And including you,’ her eyes suddenly filled with tears and she leaned in to press her forehead against his. After a moment, she sat back and wiped at her eyes. ‘Sorry, I said I wouldn’t do this when I spoke to you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘When we heard what had happened, Bell didn’t even stop celebrating.’ This last was spoken in disgust. ‘That nice young rider, Flick?’ Jaron nodded. ‘Came to find me and flew me straight here. He said you were injured, but alive.’
‘Did Flick bring Caliber back?’ Jaron asked, but Rella stared at him, uncomprehending, and he felt his heart sink. ‘Tarp was carrying Caliber.’
His mother shook her head. ‘Flick didn’t say anything about the kelpra. You can understand I wasn’t too concerned about that beast, I had you on my mind.’
‘But he saved me! Mum, if it hadn’t been for Caliber I wouldn’t have made it. Is Flick here? I’ve got to find out what happened!’ He made to get out of bed but his mother gently pushed him back against his pillows. She pulled the blankets back in place and tucked them in.
‘Shhh now, there’ll be time for that later. I want you to rest some more. Can you eat anything?’
‘I don’t know,’ Jaron frowned, distracted.
‘Well, you’ve been out of it for days. You must eat something. I’ll get you some soup.’ His mother stood and ruffled his hair, then bent down and wrapped her son in her arms. Jaron breathed in her familiar jasmine scent as they held each other in silence.
At last, Rella released him and stood up, tucking her hair back and smoothing her skirt. Jaron saw her eyes were wet but she forced a smile. ‘Won’t be long,’ she said and went over to pull at a curtain hung in a back corner of the cave he hadn’t noticed. As she swished the curtain back, an entrance was revealed carved into the rock. She gave him another smile over her shoulder before being swallowed by shadow.
Alone, he stared ahead at the huge wooden doors at the end of his bed while terrible images flashed across his mind. Only three others. His throat tightened and he swallowed, took a shaky breath. And Caliber hadn’t made it back. What had happened? He felt terrible, like he had abandoned his mount. You never did that, Sprague had always said look after your animals first. But Brill was okay, that was something. He wondered too about Carna offering to follow the race, then sighed. Answers would have to come later. In the meantime, despite what his mother had said, there was no way he was going to stay in Rakenar, no way at all.
When Rella returned, Jaron saw there was someone standing behind her, lifting the curtain to make way. His mother walked across to the bed holding a tray with a steaming bowl and a plate of bread but Jaron’s welcoming smile for her died when he saw it was Lord Carna who followed.
He strode over to stand by Jaron’s bed, across from Rella who placed the tray on the blankets.
‘I am glad to see you are awake, Jaron, how are you feeling?
‘Much better, thank you.’ He hesitated, it didn’t seem enough. ‘I’m very grateful you took the trouble to follow us, my lord. If you hadn’t–’
Carna batted his thanks away with a raised hand. ‘I am only glad to bring you back alive. It’s a terrible business.’ As he spoke his tanned smooth face grew dark and Jaron saw a flash of anger cross the grey eyes, turning them instantly to hard flint. Jaron lowered his gaze. ‘Our healer has been pleased with your progress,’ he heard Carna say. ‘The wound has cleaned up well, but it is deep and you need rest.’
Out of the corner of his eye Jaron saw his mother shudder.
‘The bleeding helped to clean the wound,’ Carna continued. ‘Rest assured our healers are the best and it is mending well. You are both very welcome here, consider Rakenar your home from now on.’ This last was said with a slow smile for Jaron’s mother.
Their home! ‘Oh no, we couldn’t possibly impose any further on you, my lord,’ Jaron forced himself to speak calmly. ‘As soon as I am well again we will return to Tiara.’
The lord’s smile faded and now he stared down at Jaron.
Rella jumped in. ‘That’s a long way off yet, son, you must give yourself time to heal.’
‘Until I’m well enough,’ Jaron muttered. He looked up at Carna and forced a smile. ‘Thank you.’ He was a lord after all, Jaron supposed, and had saved Jaron’s life and spared his mother unbearable sorrow. It wouldn’t do to look too ungracious, and Jaron was grateful.
9
Flick came to visit him the next day. The young firedrake rider gave a loud cough and popped his head round the curtain before sauntering over to the bedside chair. ‘At last you’re awake.’ He sat and crossed his long legs. ‘You’re looking much better, pale as a sheet you were. We were very worried about you.’
‘Thank you for all you did, Flick, and please pass my thanks on to Val.’
‘No need for that, we’re just glad you’re alright.’ His mouth tightened. ‘Looked awful from the air. We didn’t expect to find anyone alive.’
Jaron nodded. More than once during the night he had woken with a start and felt wet tears on his face. He shook his head to push away such dark thoughts and realised Flick was quietly watching him.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to remind you about all you went through,’ the young rider said. ‘You’re safe now and getting better.’ He uncrossed his legs and reached to put his hand on Jaron’s shoulder.
‘You didn’t,’ Jaron lied. He looked down at his hands resting on the blankets, clasped and unclasped them. ‘Flick, what happened to Caliber?’
Flick frowned as he sat back. ‘Caliber?’
‘Yes,’ Jaron stared at him now, anxious. ‘My mother said you didn’t come back to Tiara with him?’
‘Ah yes, the kelpra.’
Jaron tried to keep his annoyance in check. Why did nobody acknowledge what Caliber had done for him? It was as though they had forgotten about him already.
‘I tried to hold him all the way, or rather Tarp tried.’
Jaron went cold. ‘You dropped him.’
Flick was indignant. ‘Of course not, Tarp would never do that.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Relieved, Jaron quickly apologised. ‘He saved my life, Flick. It was amazing the way he fought for us. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.’ He paused, realising how that sounded. ‘I mean… you all did. What happened? Please tell me.’
Flick smiled. ‘Of course, I can understand you’re worried.’ He settled back in the bedside chair. ‘We got cl
ear of the forest and were just entering the Wake, but by the shades did your beast wriggle! And you should have heard the noise! Growling and snarling the whole way,’ he paused while Jaron listened anxiously. ‘Got spunk, I’ll say that. Tarp started to grumble a little and at one point I thought he might bite the devil, he got so fed up with him.’ He held up a hand on seeing Jaron’s face. ‘Of course, Tarp wouldn’t do that, not with cargo anyway, but he was quite a weight and we flew lower and lower in the air until Tarp was looking back at me, telling me he couldn’t manage much further – so we had to let him go.’
‘Let him go?’ Jaron squeaked.
‘In the middle of the plains, as I said, and releasing him was pretty hairy too. Tarp wouldn’t land, wisely as it turned out. Your kelpra was facing away as we held him but as soon as Tarp let go, he landed on all fours and immediately turned and went for him.’ Flick shook his head in wonder, remembering. ‘He leapt up at Tarp as we rose and I distinctly heard his teeth snap.’
Jaron sat back against his pillows and breathed a sigh of relief. Caliber was alright. He smiled at Flick. ‘Thank you.’
‘So, will you please stop worrying now?’
Jaron laughed then flinched as his sore ribs protested.
‘Which direction did he go?’ he asked, an arm across his chest. ‘Towards Tiara?’
But Flick shook his head. ‘As we flew on I looked back and he was running east.’ He leant forward, putting his elbows on Jaron’s bed. ‘I should think your beast can look after himself pretty well.’
‘I suppose,’ Jaron said, doubtful.
‘Perhaps he feels like a bit of freedom, Jaron.’
‘Yes, I’m sure you’re right.’
‘And now you are in Rakenar,’ Flick said, ‘you’ll find it quite different. It’s fabulous country, wilder than the Corelands – and great for flying, best seen from the air.’
‘Hmm, you’re not going back to Tiara on sentry duty?’ Jaron asked.
Flick shook his head. ‘Lord Carna was all for pulling the firedrake out completely, he was so mad at Lord Bell, but Thorel managed to talk him round.’
Why would he be so mad? Jaron thought. ‘Thorel?’ he asked out loud.
‘Thorel Rand, he’s chief advisor here. He said Rakenar still needed grain from Tiara and it was enough that Carna had taken Lord Bell’s chief cook and lead jockey away.’
Jaron shifted in his bed. ‘It won’t be long before we’re back. As soon as I’m better.’
‘S’pose so.’ Flick seemed noncommittal. ‘Your mother sided with Thorel so Carna dispatched three more firedrake and kept me, Val and Nave here. I tell you,’ Flick grinned, ‘I’m pretty happy about that. Sentry duty is soooo boring.’
Jaron said nothing; he was still digesting the news that his mother had spoken up against Lord Carna, the lord of all Rakenar – and sided with his advisor. A respected man, by all accounts. It surprised him she had been present at their meeting at all.
‘And have you seen your fabulous view?’ Flick was waving a hand towards the closed double doors.
Jaron managed to keep his smile. ‘Yes, I’ve seen. Um, bit wild.’
Flick grinned. ‘There’s so much I want to show you, when you’re well enough, of course. And the weather is so warm today! Why don’t you get some fresh air?’ He stood up and made to move towards the doors.
‘I think I need to rest please, Flick. I’ll do that much better with the doors closed.’
‘Oh, alright. I’ll leave you to sleep then.’ He made to go then turned back. ‘Your mother’s nice, fits right in. I didn’t know she’s a Raken.’
Jaron stared. ‘Yes, a long time ago, before she made Tiara her home,’ he replied, putting an emphasis on ‘Tiara’ and ‘home.’
‘You’ve not been at Tiara two years, she said to me,’ Flick waved cheerfully. ‘I’ll come and see you again.’ With a swish of the curtain he was gone.
Jaron chewed his bottom lip. His mother had made no secret of the fact she had been brought up with the Raken. He wondered again why a lord would offer to follow them to ease his mother’s mind. And why had Carna even been talking to his mother in the first place? Jaron frowned. Carna was definitely making a play for her. I have to get her away from here as soon as possible.
The weather turned warmer over the next week. Jaron knew this because Flick, a frequent visitor, said he should enjoy the air and insisted on opening up the large double doors for him. ‘Get some clean mountain air in your lungs. Believe me, this warm weather doesn’t happen often in Rakenar.’ Of course, that now meant he could see firedrake flying past with distressing regularity.
Surprisingly, the Raken lord himself often came to visit, asking him how he was. The tall lord would hover by the chair but Jaron never invited him to sit. Their conversations were short and awkward and Jaron always sighed with relief once he had left.
The healer was a short, stout man, but spoke in a strange breathless voice that made him seem older than his middle years. He was pleased with the progress of his patient’s bruised ribs and injury but voiced his concern over Jaron’s tight left hip. ‘It’s stiffer than I would like,’ he said in a rasping wheeze to Rella, who was sitting in her customary position at her son’s bedside. ‘The thigh muscle is healing well but without exercise his old injury is too stiff.’ The healer was manipulating his leg by stretching it out fully then folding it back onto Jaron’s chest, who couldn’t help but grimace as his muscles complained. ‘Have you been doing the exercises I prescribed, young man?’ When Jaron nodded the healer looked to his mother. ‘Walking in his room is not enough, tomorrow he must get out and about.’
Rella frowned. ‘I forgot your old stick, Jaron, it’s still in Tiara.’
‘Perhaps I should get better there,’ the smile Jaron gave her was innocent.
She shook her thick mane of hair. ‘You’re not well enough to travel yet, I’ll ask one of the carpenters to make one for you.’
Jaron grunted as the healer pulled his leg to full stretch again and twisted it. Laid on the pillow his face was still towards his mother and he noticed she didn’t look so drawn now. If anything, she was more beautiful than ever and he frowned, wondering what the change was. Her eyes were bright and clear and she had lost the dark shadows that had formed under them. Her rich dark hair was shining and she seemed to be almost glowing to her son’s eyes. The dress she wore was of dark velvet blue with a cream lace on the front and a cloak to match it, pinned with an ornate gold brooch at her shoulder. It was quite a change from her kitchen garb and all became her very well. Jaron couldn’t think when he had ever seen her wearing such a beautiful dress and they had never been able to afford jewellery before. Of course, she wouldn’t be so worried about him now, but there was something else… something that was nothing to do with her son getting stronger.
It’s being here in Rakenar, Jaron thought, and no doubt Lord Carna had something to do with it as well. With a sinking heart, he turned to stare up at the ceiling while the healer continued to work and allowed himself to acknowledge what he had been trying so hard not to; his mother was happy, the happiest he had seen her for years. How can I possibly force her to give all this up?
Jaron knew he couldn’t.
10
The next evening, Rella came to his room with an armful of clothes, and something else.
‘For you,’ she said, and handed him a walking stick.
Of course, the handle was carved in the image of a firedrake head. Jaron sighed and took it then hefted it in his hand, raising his eyebrows. It was surprisingly light and so beautifully carved he had to take a closer look despite himself. The head was intricately detailed; the forehead smooth with jewelled deep-set eyes and its mouth breathed a plume of fire that formed the tapering end of the curved handle. The neck arched into the rod and the posture reminded him of Caliber, when the stallion was showing off and prancing with his chin pulled in.
‘The detail… it’s beautiful,’ he murmured, running his hand over the p
olished wood. It felt warm to the touch and his fingers traced the ridges of the ears carved flat against the curve of the handle and worked their way down the scales that were painstakingly detailed, curling around the wood in a firedrake tail. A gold metal tip sealed the end with a dark material on the bottom that yielded just a little when Jaron pressed it with his thumb. He looked up at his mother. ‘Who did this?’
‘Oran,’ she smiled down at him. ‘He was an apprentice when I left, but now he’s the master. He set straight to it when I asked him. He was carving most of last night and this morning. It’s chestnut, light and strong. The wood to trust, Oran said.’
‘Will you thank him for me?’
‘You can tell him yourself when you see him.’ She turned to retrieve a bundle of clothes she had put on the chair. ‘Want me to help you get dressed?’
Jaron pouted at her and she smiled and moved to the door. ‘Give me a shout when you’re ready.’
Jaron pulled on woollen brown leggings and a crisp white shirt, thin but made of warm wool. He buttoned the plush brown velvet tunic and wondered at the quality of the cloth. He had never worn such well-made clothes before. His boots looked new too, made of soft dusky brown leather that pulled on easily and were a perfect fit. When he had finished dressing he picked up the staff and leant on it as he stood. It felt made for his hand and he experimented with a few steps. With the exercises the healer had given him these last few days his foot moved better now. It still pulled on his scarred hip to lift his injured leg when he took a step, but the boots were stout yet wonderfully light, supporting his foot well and making walking just a bit easier.
‘My, what a handsome young man you are,’ Rella was standing at the door, appraising him.
‘Too much?’ Jaron asked. ‘I feel a bit… conspicuous.’
His mother laughed and shook her head. ‘Come on, it’s time to stop hiding.’ She held out her arm and her son placed his hand on it. Slowly, they walked out of his cave.