by T M Miller
‘You’ve got to kill him, Carna. You should have done it all those years ago.’ At her words Carna’s face contracted, like he was in pain. Rella was standing in front of the lord now, her breath coming in panting gasps. ‘I don’t care if he’s your brother, I don’t care. I have to live with what he’s done, Carna – and I can’t take any more.’
Carna stepped forward and enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight. She carried on talking, her chin tilted up on his shoulder ‘If he takes my son, Carna, if he gets to him again – I won’t be able to go on, do you hear me? Do you…’ she collapsed in his arms, sobbing.
Jaron sat, horrified as his mother wept, her cries as frantic as a trapped animal. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered. ‘Sorry.’
Hearing him, Rella broke out of Carna’s arms and whirled on her son. ‘Don’t you dare say sorry! Do you hear me? There is nothing, nothing for you to apologise for.’
Jaron was at a loss to know what to say. Rella turned and walked straight towards the blue. Jaron got up quickly, seeking to pull her back, thinking she was going to hurt Skite, who might then defend himself. He saw with relief that Carna was already right behind her. The blue’s ears flickered at her approach.
‘Skite, it’s alright,’ Jaron hurriedly moved towards him. The blue’s nostrils flared as next moment Rella had fallen against the blue’s neck, her arms wrapped tight around it. ‘Thank you,’ Rella murmured, ‘thank you for carrying my son home.’
Jaron came to stand beside Carna and they watched in silence as the blue rumbled from deep in his throat at this strange, distraught woman.
Later, when Rella had calmed down and was back in her chair, head nodding in her exhaustion, Jaron watched from his seat as Carna tenderly lifted her in his arms. Still half-asleep, she muttered and huddled against his chest. She looked so small, Jaron thought, like a child herself. Carna carried her around to the other side of the bed from Skite’s bulk and knelt with one knee on the blankets. He laid her down gently and pulled the covers up under Rella’s chin, raising a hand to stroke her cheek. Finally, he sighed and lifted off the bed, turning towards Jaron.
The boy dropped his eyes and looked away. He felt embarrassed to have witnessed such a private moment of tenderness.
‘Jaron, come out to the ledge with me.’
The boy nodded and peeled himself from his chair with limbs that felt heavy as lead. He was exhausted.
Madrag raised his head at their approach. On impulse, Jaron went over to the big red and leant against the massive belly. Madrag’s rumble vibrated throughout his body and it was a comfort. Jaron closed his eyes and felt the beast’s whumping heartbeat against his chest, slower than his own. As he leant close against the beast he felt it quicken up, judder, and then match his own heart, beat for beat. Frowning, Jaron lifted his head to look at the beast. One eye was rolled back, watching him.
‘Jaron?’ The Raken lord was waiting. Reluctantly, Jaron pushed away from Madrag. His exhaustion made his limp heavy as he went over to stand before the man. Carna hooked his thumbs in his belt and appraised him for a long while until Jaron shifted uncomfortably. ‘You said Torrit knew of you, that he had sources. Did he say anything else?’
Jaron considered and lowered his voice. ‘He said Rella deserved to die for betraying him.’ He met Carna’s eyes and saw the other’s flare then narrow. ‘I confronted him about the villagers and Teel. He wasn’t sorry for any of it, and he had some of my clothes.’
‘Your clothes?’ Carna frowned. ‘Somebody had brought him your clothes?’
‘Yes.’ Jaron watched as the lord digested this.
‘Do you think you could find this fortress again?’
Jaron was silent for a long while, looking down at his feet. ‘I don’t know. If you found it he could command all his firedrake to attack you.’ He paused. ‘I suppose I could try to get the blue to take us.’
‘I understand your reluctance but we must find him, Jaron.’
‘I know,’ Jaron said in a glum voice. ‘He said a village supplied him with food but didn’t mention the name.’
‘A village near the mountains… and a mountain fortress,’ Carna mused. ‘It shouldn’t be hard to find. There aren’t many old fortresses carved into the mountains with the columns still intact. If you think of anything else, any detail, no matter how small, you must tell me.’
Jaron nodded and, apparently satisfied, Carna turned to look out over the valley. Jaron noticed for the first time the afternoon was moving into evening. The sun had dropped behind the mountains now and dusk was settling, drawing a grainy blue half-light down over Rakenar. The caves flickered into life as torches were lit from within.
A chill took Jaron and he shivered a little. ‘I still don’t know how Torrit got Skite to come and search for me,’ he said, breaking the silence.
‘You said he had your clothes, he might have used it to give the blue your scent and brought him close enough to latch on to you. They have a good sense of smell although I’ve never heard of a firedrake tracking on scent before. Torrit commands the Rillion, with it he can get a firedrake to do almost anything.’ He paused and Jaron felt his eyes on him. ‘Do you want to ask me anything, Jaron? About the Rillion?’
‘Maybe later.’ Jaron tried to sound casual but he heard again the sudden tortured firedrakes’ cries as Torrit commanded them, and he found he did want to talk after all. ‘What he did to them was terrible,’ he whispered. ‘Controlling their moves, their minds, they were in agony, I felt it.’
‘You felt it?’
The sudden interest in Carna’s voice stopped Jaron from saying anything further. He was too tired to trust himself. Carna must have sensed his reluctance for he didn’t press him. For a while they stood together and watched the cave lights dotted all around the valley. A faint firedrake snore behind them made Carna look over his shoulder just as Madrag swung his head back into the cave.
‘You can trust him, you know,’ Jaron murmured. He felt Carna look across at him in the fading light. ‘The blue, Skite.’
‘We’ll see.’
‘He’s broken away from Torrit.’ Carna nodded yet Jaron felt he wasn’t really agreeing with him and he was too tired to argue about it now. ‘I’m very tired,’ he ventured. It wasn’t just an excuse, he really needed his bed now. Then he remembered it lay in smithereens next door, flattened by firedrake.
‘I am glad you are back safe, Jaron.’
‘Me too.’ Jaron made to leave, but Carna’s hand came to land on his shoulder and Jaron was turned to face him. He really wished this man would let him go to sleep. The lord’s face was half in shadow, the rest lit by the flickering torches at the mouth of the cave, and Jaron was reminded of Torrit. Carna did not have the madness that lurked in his older brother’s strange silver-blue eyes nor the drawn face and thin lips, but the similarities were there – the high forehead, the brooding eyes and strong jaw.
‘You did well to have escaped my brother,’ Carna was saying, bringing Jaron’s tired mind back into focus. ‘Time and time again you have had to face your fears about the firedrake.’ Jaron raised his eyebrows and Carna nodded, meeting his eyes. ‘Oh yes, I’ve watched you swallow down your fears when even to touch these beasts was unbearable to you,’ he smiled. ‘I think you spared Rella some things in your telling, for which I am grateful. I know your worst fears must have come true yet you managed to turn it round and escape.’ He hesitated, the flint eyes looking into his. ‘Tell me, was that why you chose the blue, so you could get away, because if so…’
‘No,’ Jaron mumbled. ‘It just happened. I don’t even know how. I was just looking at him and then he stepped closer and…’ He paused, not wishing to elaborate further. ‘It just came about.’ As he raised his eyes he caught the disappointment in the lord’s gaze. ‘Why do you ask?’
‘If you did the choosing I might have been able to free you from him; if you had taken him as a means of escaping Torrit.’
Jaron stepped back, Carna’s hands slipping
from his shoulders. ‘But I don’t want to be free of him.’ He felt himself sway then and had to make a concentrated effort to stay upright.
Carna took his elbow and turned him back into the room.
‘Time for you to rest. Sleep with your mother, I’ll take the chair.’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ but Jaron was already limping ahead. He reached the bed and, stepping over Skite’s neck, slid under the covers, forgetting even to remove his boots first. It was a relief to nestle his head against the pillow.
Rella was facing him, a strand of her hair across her face. He thought to reach up and brush it aside but instead he closed his eyes. Out of everything that had happened to him, it was the thought of that black kelpra back in the gorge that surfaced now in his exhausted mind. He was almost certain it was Caliber. I’ll go back to make sure, the boy vowed silently. He owed it to the kelpra after Caliber saving his life.
‘Jaron?’ he heard his mother mumble softly.
‘I’m here, Mum,’ he whispered.
‘Yes…’ by her voice, he could tell she was smiling. ‘You’re here. You’re… home.’
He opened his eyes. Her eyes were still closed. Home. He rolled the unfamiliar word round in his tired mind. ‘Yes, Mum. I’m here. He paused. ‘I’m home.’
Another smile stretched slowly across her face. Jaron closed his eyes again and in two shakes of a firedrake’s tail he was fast asleep.
Book 2 of the Rillion is flying your way!
Blue Fire Rider
Jaron now has a firedrake of his own but there’s no denying Skite is different. Jaron’s spirited blue doesn’t always do as he should, and some people in Rakenar are not happy at all having a throwback to the wild firedrake of old in their midst. As Jaron tries to get Skite accepted, he learns more about the strange power that is inside of him and what it can do. But evil is lurking – hidden deep within Rakenar itself – and once again, Jaron’s life is on the line…
About the Author
Toni Marie Miller has made up stories in her head for as long as she can remember. And drew a lot. But mainly dreamed of adventure. She devoured books as a child, loved ‘My Friend Flicka’ (Mary O’Hara), and worked at the nearest stables mucking out for a chance to ride the ponies back to the field at the end of the day. In her teens she discovered fantasy: Anne McCaffrey, Terry Brooks, Douglas Adams, Tolkien, and David Eddings. Toni attended a creative writing course in Sussex, England, and from there her passion for writing was stirred once more. ‘Fire Rider’ is her first novel. It is the first in the Rillion series, yet is a story in itself and is about the relationship between humans and the animals we share our lives with.
A Message from the Author
I hope you enjoyed this book. I’m a storyteller who would love to know what you think. Click here to go to the web page to leave a review. Thank you so much for reading the first book in the series. I know your time is valuable and I appreciate you coming on Jaron’s journey with me.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Christine, my dear friend, I don’t think any of this would have been possible nor taken wing without your support and belief in me over the years. Thank you.
To Red, who supported me every step of the way, provided advice, and who soothed my writer’s nerves more than once. And to Curly, your pearls of wisdom always helped. To Amanda, for your excellent editorial mage skills and knowledge (I was a little stubborn on only a few counts). And Gel, thank you so much for being my first ‘real’ reader.
Cover skyscape: Josep.Ng/shutterstock.com
Title font: Chequered Ink