by T M Miller
The cave mouth was upon them and Skite, still back-flapping hard, flew straight over the ledge, his front legs catching the chair outside and knocking it flying. The inner rock wall came rushing to meet them and Jaron cried out and threw up an arm to protect his face. In doing so he let go of Skite’s ears and fell back over the rump. There was a loud thwump and the sound of wood splintering as something ripped loudly. Jaron, arms flailing, hit the deck and the wind went out of his lungs with a whoosh as his poor ribs took yet another knock.
Despite the pain, his eyes shot open. He was lying face up and spread-eagled on his collapsed bed and a curtain ripped from its moorings had come to settle over Skite’s head. The crumpled firedrake was against the wall. Laying still.
‘Skite!’ Jaron crawled towards him, over the blue’s splayed wings and ignoring his painful ribs. ‘Please be alright, please…’
A rumble came from underneath the cloth. Jaron, relieved, reached up to pull it off and the head swung down towards him, purple eyes dazed and blinking. Blood ran from the trembling nostrils.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jaron gasped. The firedrake’s wings flapped in a feeble manner as the blue peeled himself off the wall to stand over the boy on shaking legs. Skite’s nose nudged him before the blue’s gaze shifted over his head. A warning growl tore from his chest and he knocked Jaron back onto the bed as he lowered into a crouch over him.
An answering snarl reverberated into the cave and Jaron forgot his ribs as he flipped over to see Madrag, eyes alight with yellow fire and revealing his teeth at this intruder. Next to him, also pressed into the cave entrance, was the head of a snarling green. Together, they filled the space. Madrag pushed closer and Skite opened his wings in warning.
‘No! Madrag, it’s alright!’ Jaron made to crawl towards the red but Skite’s claw hooked in his belt and held him back. His tail lashed out past Jaron and sent the bedside chair crashing towards Madrag. The red caught it in his mouth and snapped it into splinters in one savage bite. He spat out the leather seat and Jaron saw his fire eyes flare. Oh no.
The boy lifted onto his knees, his fingers fumbling as they undid the belt trapping him to Skite. Once released, he rolled away from the blue and came to his feet, staggering a little. He heard Skite squeak after him but kept his eyes on Madrag, lifting both hands up, palms out.
‘Madrag, it’s alright, he didn’t mean any harm, he won’t hurt me–’ His words faltered as he noticed Lord Carna’s face, peering over Madrag’s head, body bent almost double where he had wriggled into the small space there. The flint-grey eyes were locked on to the blue and a long sword was in one hand.
‘He won’t hurt me!’ Jaron called up at him. ‘He brought me back! Please don’t hurt him.’
‘Jaron,’ Carna murmured and Jaron could hear the relief in his voice. ‘Are you hurt?’
‘No,’ Jaron lied. ‘It wasn’t his fault, Torrit sent him.’
It was a mistake. ‘Torrit?’ Carna’s eyebrows shot up and then the lips peeled back in a fierce grimace. Jaron saw the sword lift in his hand.
‘No!’ Jaron stumbled back to stand in front of the blue’s head, shielding him. ‘I told you, he got me away. I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him.’
‘Come here, Jaron.’
‘No. You back off. Now.’
Carna stared at him for a long moment.
‘We can’t get to him,’ said a calm voice and Jaron now saw it was Val’s face peering over Motch’s head, squeezed in next to the red. ‘We have to back off.’
‘No,’ Carna snarled.
‘It might turn on the boy if the firedrake panic it.’ Val’s leathery face was smooth, composed and was in stark contrast to the fury now etched into Carna’s expression. After a moment, the lord’s face cleared and he seemed to compose himself. He tapped Madrag’s head and the red pulled back a little, eyes still fixed on the blue. Carna slid down and landed in a half-crouch, blade sweeping up. He shifted on to the balls of his feet as Val, holding a spear, dismounted. Both men, weapons at the ready, took a step forward.
‘No,’ Jaron pleaded as he retreated a step. Skite’s head came over his shoulder, lips raised in a snarl. The boy lifted an arm and brought it over the blue’s nose, pushing it back down. Carna paused, his eyes widening. He cast a quick look across at Val. Both men straightened from their protective stance at the same time.
‘Could it be?’ Carna muttered, half to himself. He stared at Jaron. The boy stared back, chin lifted but his heart thundering in his chest.
‘Jaron!’
It was the voice he loved most and he turned. ‘Mum!’
She stood in the tunnel doorway back in the corner of the room. Her hair was dishevelled and underneath the wide hazel eyes dark shadows made her face seem even paler than normal. As he stared, heart opening, he saw tears brim and spill over to run down her cheeks.
‘Rella, stay back.’ Carna made to step towards her, hand outstretched in a plea but she was already rushing towards Jaron, who stumbled into his mother’s open arms. Skite shifted quickly across, keeping with his rider, and Madrag hissed in fury and moved closer, maintaining a low snarling growl. Enveloped in Rella’s arms as she spun him round, Jaron grunted at the compression of his sore ribs. She pulled back a little and frowned down at him.
‘You’re hurt.’
‘Just my ribs,’ Jaron tried to keep the pain from his voice. He looked up at the blue. The purple eyes were anxious and he raised a hand to Skite’s nose. ‘It’s alright, boy.’
Rella looked over her shoulder at his words and Jaron felt her body freeze. She released him and pushed her son behind her as she whirled to face the blue.
‘No – Mum, it’s fine.’
‘It attacked you,’ she rasped, pushing Jaron with her as she stepped back. The blue keened at Jaron in front of her, his eyes anxious as he stepped forward to follow. Madrag’s sudden growl was deafening.
‘Rella, don’t move.’ Carna had come two paces in and was back into a crouch, sword held tightly. His face had gone a shade lighter under his tan.
‘He won’t harm us, Mum, I won’t allow it,’ Jaron spoke into her ear.
She turned to look down at him, her face still wet, hazel eyes wide. Jaron moved past her towards the blue and his mother stepped with him, staying at his side.
‘Dammit, woman, why do you never listen to me?’ Carna’s eyes razed at his partner.
‘Don’t you woman me,’ Rella hissed back. She looked up at the blue, her face composed. ‘If Jaron says it won’t hurt me, then I believe him.’
Jaron felt immense gratitude at her words and took her hand. ‘His name’s Skite,’ he looked up at the firedrake and stroked its nose. ‘Skite, meet my mother.’ The purple eyes shifted from Jaron to Rella then back to Jaron. ‘She’s a friend, you will not harm her,’ as he emphasised the last words they strummed when they left his lips. Skite immediately bowed his head to the boy.
Madrag’s low snarling cut off and the cave went quiet. Carna lifted out of his defensive posture and the sword hand dropped to hang limply at his side. Jaron turned back to his mother and saw her staring open-mouthed at him. Her son smiled to reassure her, thinking again how drawn she looked; she must have been frantic with worry in his absence. He reached for her cold hand and lifted it onto Strike’s nose. Rella tore her eyes away from Jaron and forced a smile up at the blue.
‘My, what a lovely colour you are,’ she whispered and daringly ran her hand up his nose. Skite blinked at her. ‘And purple eyes, I’ve never seen the like before.’
Skite huffed at her, lifting her hair and flattening her skirt. Rella’s lips widened into a genuine smile of wonder and she cooed at the blue. She turned to look at Lord Carna.
‘He’s quite friendly,’ her lips pursed at him. ‘Stop itching for a fight.’
Carna’s jaw set. ‘Torrit sent him to get Jaron.’
Rella’s gasp of horror made Skite pull back. ‘Is this true?’ she demanded of her son. ‘It was Torrit?’
&nb
sp; Jaron nodded, hating the horror in her eyes. ‘But I’m fine, the blue saved me, got me away.’ He gazed up at Skite who was watching them. ‘He turned against his master.’
Rella’s hands took both of his. ‘Jaron,’ she looked into his eyes. ‘I don’t think he could have ever really accepted that man as his master or he wouldn’t have done your bidding.’ Her hands tightened on his. ‘He’s selected you, hasn’t he?’
‘Selected?’
‘Taken you as his rider, chosen you.’
Jaron looked up at the blue. The firedrake keened and cocked its head at him. ‘I suppose he has, yes.’
Her sharp intake of breath was accompanied by Carna’s low groan of despair.
26
Lord Carna ordered Jaron and Skite to go and stand on the ledge so they could be seen. Outside Mount Scarf the sense of alarm was palpable in the air. Firedrake still wheeled in circles and their screeches rung in the valley.
Jaron had to tug at the blue’s chin for quite a while until his young firedrake would move. Even then Skite had trembled when Madrag, hanging on the mountainside right beside the ledge, had fixed the blue with his yellow eyes. Jaron kept his hand on his firedrake’s neck, terrified he might leap off the ledge to get away from the big red, only to be attacked by the Raken firedrake outside. At the other end of the ledge and hanging like a bat above it, Motch had hooked his wing claws onto the rock, his rider standing up at right angles to his hanging beast with one arm looped around the lower neck and feet planted on the saddle front arch, seemingly oblivious to the long drop below. Jaron looked up at Val and the man grinned; nothing seemed to phase the lord’s second.
‘Come to order!’ Carna’s voice rang out into the valley and the riders brought their firedrake round to hover before their lord. ‘My nephew, Lord Jaron, has chosen his firedrake,’ Carna’s voice boomed out. ‘The blue here belongs to him.’ There were loud exclamations from the riders at this announcement and Carna held up his hands to quiet them. ‘You know our law; no Raken attacks another’s selected firedrake. The blue is not to be harmed.’ Rella moved to stand next to Jaron and looped her arm through his while Carna took a deep breath. ‘All is now well and you are free to return to your caves.’
The riders saluted and their firedrake turned and flapped away. A babble of voices rose as riders disembarked on other’s ledges to discuss the recent events, or hung from the walls perched on their firedrakes, leaning over and chatting to those outside their caves. Jaron noticed they often looked over at him and the blue.
‘They don’t seem very happy,’ he muttered.
Carna whirled to face him and Jaron stepped back. The lord’s face was pale, his lips tight. For the first time Jaron noticed how bloodshot his eyes were. Rella’s hand came up to lightly touch the lord’s chest and he paused before turning away. He stalked over to where his firedrake hung and stepped off the ledge onto Madrag’s saddle. Even as his rider was swinging a leg over, the big red flapped off. Carna didn’t spare them a look back as he winged out over the valley.
Jaron watched them disappear over the mountain ridge. ‘I seem to have upset everybody,’ he muttered.
‘Don’t be silly, you are back here safe, that’s the main thing. Everyone has been very worried.’ Rella turned back to look at the collapsed bed and smashed furniture. ‘You can’t sleep here tonight. I’ll meet you next door.’
Jaron was doubtful. ‘In Carna’s cave? Won’t he mind?’
‘He will understand that I want to spend time with my son,’ her hand brushed his fringe back from his face and Jaron saw tears pool in her eyes again.
‘Mum…’
‘When they told me,’ she swallowed, ‘what had happened to you, how you were attacked on Channon…’ Her eyes flicked to the blue.
‘Is Channon alright?’ Jaron asked. ‘How she fought for me, you should have seen it – it was terrible, the noise…’
Rella put her hand on his shoulder. ‘She was fine, Jaron, exhausted, a few cuts on her back, but fine.’ Again, her eyes went to the blue.
‘I told you, it was Torrit, not him.’ It was important to Jaron she didn’t blame Skite, but she only smiled.
‘I’ll see you next door,’ she said, and turned back into the cave, picking her way back over the disarray and dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. Jaron watched until she disappeared into the tunnel. He sighed and looked up at Skite and the blue met his gaze with wide eyes.
‘It’s not your fault,’ he went to lean on Skite’s nose and paused as he felt many eyes on them. He looked around to see all the riders on the neighbouring mountains were watching with their firedrake.
‘Come on, Skite,’ he made to mount up then realised he had forgotten the blue wasn’t trained to raise its leg for him. Great, he was going to have to struggle to get on in front of their audience. As he stood there, looking at how high the back was, the blue crouched. Jaron smiled – yet again the firedrake had somehow understood what he wanted. He saw the blue’s foreleg was flat on the ground and he took hold of the shoulder ridge and stepped onto it. From there he reached up, got a hand on Skite’s backbone, and managed to crawl up, gasping as his ribs protested.
‘We’re getting there, aren’t we, Skite?’ he said between gritted teeth at the pain as he settled himself. He reached down and stroked the blue, forgetting he was being watched for a moment.
It was a short hop to Carna’s cave. The ledge was designed for a red and Skite took up less than half the space. Jaron scrambled down and held out a hand, palm up. ‘Stay,’ he ordered and turned to join his mother. Immediately, something bumped him in the middle of his back. ‘No, Skite, I said–’ He stopped short.
The blue was already past him and in the cave. Rella, to her credit, raised her eyebrows but didn’t flinch as Skite walked past her with his wings half held up towards the large bed. Settling himself alongside it, he put his head down to his paws and let go with a huge sigh, his sides deflating as the wings folded close.
‘Knows his own mind, doesn’t he?’ Rella eyed him.
‘I think he’s a little scared to be out on the ledge on his own in case Madrag comes back.’
‘Madrag won’t hurt him – no Raken firedrake will now that Carna has given the order. It’s our most sacred rule.’
She stepped towards him and put her arm round his shoulders. Her son rested his head against her chest and allowed his mother to take him over to a chair. Now he was safe, Jaron felt exhausted as all the horrors of the past two days finally caught up with him. His mother unbuttoned his tunic and peeled off his shirt, exclaiming when she saw the purple bruises amongst his scarred flesh all over his upper body. Jaron sat slumped in his chair and didn’t protest as she rubbed thick lotion from a jar onto his chest and ribs. It smelt of peppermint and helped to revive him a little.
She pressed a steaming tankard of beef broth into his hands and he sipped at it periodically while she worked. She washed him as she had when he was a young child and he accepted it, too tired to turn aside her mothering and secretly comforted by her touch. Finally, she wrapped bandages around his body to support his ribs. Sitting back in her chair his mother pushed her long heavy hair over her shoulders. As she did so a strong breeze ruffled through the cave and Carna came striding into the room.
He stopped short when he saw the blue laid next his bed. Jaron made to stand up, muttering apologies, but his mother put her hand on his shoulder, staying him.
‘Tell me,’ she said, ‘I want to know everything that happened.’
Jaron looked from her to Carna. Her hand reached up and her cool palm laid against his cheek, turning his face back towards her.
‘Don’t try to spare me anything, Jaron. Leave nothing out.’
Jaron stared at her. Her beautiful hazel eyes looked directly into his and he understood her need to know what had happened while her son had been taken from her. He put Carna out of his mind and, taking a deep breath, Jaron began to relay the terrible events of the last two days, the who
le time staring at a tapestry hanging on the far wall, because if he looked at his mother’s face and saw her pain he knew he would have tried to spare her.
He began with the terrible fight when Channon had defended him, the first night on the ledge with the blue – despite his promise Jaron glossed over how terrified he was for his mother’s sake – Torrit’s fortress, and all the terrible firedrake he had at his command. He told of how he had escaped on the blue and their subsequent journey to Rakenar. He even told how he had evaded the sentry firedrake by flying low and using the cloud cover, purely for Carna’s benefit, because he knew no one should be able to sneak up on Rakenar and if he could do it, then maybe Torrit could do the same.
The only thing he left out was when he had commanded the blue to fire, and Torrit’s talk of him having this terrible thing called the Rillion. I’ll tell them when I’m ready, he thought to himself, when he had sorted out exactly what this thing was.
At last he slumped in his chair, exhausted. Rella sat stock-still and ramrod straight as she had throughout the whole telling. When he finally looked at her he was shocked by how white her face had gone.
‘Mum,’ he reached to comfort her but she spun off her chair away from him and stalked up and down the room. She looked over at Carna, who hadn’t moved the whole time Jaron had been speaking. The Raken lord stood, feet apart, fists clenched tight as he stared at Jaron, a muscle twitching spasmodically in his jaw.
‘Your brother!’ Rella spun and pointed at Carna. ‘He did this! When is that madman ever going to leave us alone? If it’s not enough Teel, a good, honest man, was killed and a whole village razed, my son was burnt, burnt Carna! Now this!’ Her hand flicked to Jaron. ‘He wants my son, to take him from me! My son!’
Her voice had increased in pitch and Jaron stared at her while Skite raised his head and looked warily at this mad woman. She was incandescent with rage, her hair flying out from her face in all directions, her brown eyes flashing. Jaron looked at Carna, but the lord’s face might have been made from stone for all the reaction he gave.