by Mark Robson
‘Nearly there,’ Fang warned.
For a moment Kira thought her mind was playing tricks on her, because there was something strange about his voice.
‘No, you’re not imagining it,’ Fang said immediately. ‘I’ve consciously narrowed our bond to reduce the chance of stray thoughts being picked up by the night dragons. The valley will open out when we round the next bend. I can already sense the presence of many dragons ahead, so I’ve shielded my thoughts to prevent our being discovered.’
‘That makes sense,’ Kira replied, surprised to hear that her own mental voice had the same echoing quality as Fang’s.
‘I’ve also managed a quick private exchange with Shadow,’ he continued. ‘She is delighted that we’ve come to help. She and Pell arrived yesterday. Pell went in to see Segun, but she’s had no contact with him since. She is worried that something has happened to him. She’s going to cause a disturbance to draw the attention of the other dragons to let me get you in. Apparently Segun and five other senior riders left the enclave early this morning, but Widewing, Segun’s dragon, would tell Shadow nothing about what was going on.’
‘I think I can guess.’
‘Yes, it seems we were right,’ Fang observed. ‘Shadow has given me an image of where Pell entered. She says the outer part of the cave appears empty now that Segun has left. Dropping you there is the best I can do. Find Pell and Shadow will try to bring you all back to where Firestorm and Aurora are resting. I will meet you there.’
‘And if we can’t find Pell?’ Kira asked.
‘Shadow won’t leave without him.’
‘Great! No pressure then.’
‘We knew it wouldn’t be easy, Kira,’ Fang said, his voice calm. ‘I have confidence in your abilities. You are a trained hunter. Use your skills. You will find him.’
It was so dark by now that Kira did not even realise they were turning left until the valley opened out ahead and the area of sky above lent more light to their path. As Fang levelled his wings, Kira experienced a strange feeling of disorientation. Her sense of balance told her that they were now turning right, but her eyes showed them to be flying straight. Her brain began to turn somersaults, trying to resolve the conflicting messages.
‘Relax, Kira,’ Fang told her softly. ‘I’ve heard that you humans sometimes suffer this illusion. Riders call it “the leans”. It is quite common. My wings are level. Close your eyes for a moment. Tell yourself we are flying level and then open your eyes again. The feeling will pass in a moment. That’s what you get for having a body that’s designed to work on the ground.’
Fang’s voice sounded mildly amused, but Kira found it anything but funny. If she could have chosen a time to discover a strange side-effect of flying, this would not have been it. A trumpeting roar sounded from somewhere in the darkness to her right.
‘Don’t worry,’ she said quietly over her shoulder to Nolita, whose grip around her waist had tightened at the sound. ‘That’s Shadow creating a diversion for us.’
Shadow’s roar demanded attention, and it seemed to be getting plenty. The air was suddenly full of night dragons, seeking to find out what all the fuss was about. The three riders crouched low on Fang’s back as he weaved a silent path between them. When the air cleared of activity, Fang powered upwards.
The black cliff-wall that housed the enclave was dotted with the flickering glow of torches that shone from many of the open caves, but Fang climbed way above the inhabited openings. The darkness swelled ahead of them as they approached the face of the mountain. For a moment Kira thought they would crash headlong into the rock, but then she saw it. Ahead of them was an impossibly black maw, even darker than the deepest shadow of the cliff. She flinched and a shudder rippled down her spine as they passed between the great jaws of the rockface and it swallowed them with its dark silence.
They landed and Fang turned to face the exit before stopping to let them dismount. The three riders slid cautiously down his side, doing their best to make no sound as they landed. No sooner were they all down than Fang was on the move again, launching from the ledge and out into the night sky. They heard his great talons clicking across the stone floor of the cave and the slight whoosh as he launched, though there was no hint of a visual clue to mark his passage.
‘All right, we’re in,’ Kira whispered. ‘Let’s see what we’re up against. We need to find a door out of here. There must be one somewhere towards the back of the cave. I’ll take the left. Elian, take the right. Nolita, walk up the middle to the back wall and then turn whichever way you prefer.’
Step by careful step, they felt their way around the walls. It was Elian who came across the door. As soon as he felt the change of texture from stone to wood, he knew he had found it. Running his fingers back and forth it took but a moment more to find the handle. He felt around for a keyhole, but could not locate one.
‘Hsst!’ he hissed, quietly drawing the attention of the others. They joined him quickly and Kira patted him silently on the shoulder.
Elian stepped aside and allowed Kira to open the door. He was tempted to draw his sword, but he had enough sense to realise the desire was born from nervousness. He was more likely to injure one of his friends in the dark than to do anything useful with it, so he clenched his fists and concentrated on listening out for any sign of movement.
Kira turned the handle of the door and eased it open with infinite care. There was the slightest of creaks as she teased it open a crack, causing the three riders to wince in unison. A wedge of dim light spilled out through the gap, but there was no sound of movement on the other side. No one had noticed them yet. Heart thumping, Kira drew the door open further and peered inside.
A single burning torch lit the room beyond the door. It appeared to be a general living area, with comfortable chairs, a low table and several sets of shelves loaded with books around the walls. As far as Kira could see there were two other doors leading on from it, one in the wall ahead of her and another to her left. Aside from the lit torch there was no sign of life.
Kira stepped inside and the others followed. She instinctively turned towards the door to the left. If I was trying to keep a dragon and her rider apart, I would lock the rider as far out of reach as possible, she reasoned silently. This door would lead them deeper into the mountainside. As she reached for the handle, she paused and turned to face Elian and Nolita.
‘Take off your face masks,’ she ordered softly, beginning to unwind the material from her own face.
‘But what if we meet someone?’ Elian asked.
‘We’re going to bluff,’ she whispered back. ‘We’ll need to speak to someone if we’re going to get to Pell. We don’t know where we’re going, or how big this complex is. You saw how many caves there were in this cliff. There could be miles of passageways and hundreds of people. There’s no way anyone here could hope to know everyone else. From now on we’re night dragon riders sent by Segun to speak with Pell. Leave the talking to me. Don’t say anything unless you have to. Just follow my lead.’
‘All right, Kira,’ Elian said with a slight shrug. ‘It’s your show.’ He sounded unconvinced, but began removing the coverings from his face anyway. Nolita did the same.
They tucked the strips of cloth inside their jackets and once they were ready, Kira took a deep breath, gripped the handle and opened it with one swift movement.
Chapter Twelve
‘You’re a Bad Girl, Kira!’
The sound of the key in the lock of the cell door brought Pell to his feet. The muscles in his legs bunched automatically in readiness as he felt the insane red heat of rage explode inside his gut. The door opened and the bright orange light of the guards’ torches flooded the tiny cell.
Pell did not hesitate. Without pausing to see how many guards there were, or if they were armed, he put his head down and charged like an enraged bull. It was an act of unthinking madness that under different circumstances might have been effective. Unfortunately for Pell, the guards were partic
ularly wary of new prisoners, so they were both alert and quick to respond.
The lead guard dodged Pell’s charge with ease and stuck his foot out to trip him as he passed. A second guard reacted faster still, clubbing him hard across his back with a cudgel as he tripped. Pell went down hard, rolling across the stone passageway and smashing into the opposite wall.
After nearly a full day in total darkness, his eyes could not cope with the sudden flare of light, so he never saw what hit him. Pain from the cudgel blow across his back was followed by more from his impact with the wall and a pummelling sequence of vicious kicks to his body from the guards. Pell curled into a ball, protecting his head as best he could with his forearms.
‘Shadow! Help me!’ he thought, pain lending power to his mental cry. No response. ‘Gods, please!’ he moaned aloud.
‘Enough!’ a deep voice ordered. ‘Put him back inside.’
The kicking stopped and Pell gasped as hands dragged him roughly to his feet. He squinted, his eyes watering as he tried to focus. Blurry figures surrounded him, but he could not even count them before being flung back into the cramped cell. His lungs heaved erratically. He had taken a kick to the solar plexus that had temporarily robbed him of his breath.
‘No more foolishness, Pell,’ the deep voice continued. ‘Our orders are to contain you, not hurt you. Now be a good lad. Eat your food and don’t try anything stupid like that again. If you do, I won’t be so quick to stop my men hurting you.’
Pell heard scrapes as a tray of food was placed on the floor inside the door of his cell. A moment later the door closed and he was plunged back into darkness, with only the faintest of glows visible under the base of the door.
He groaned as a cloud of despair engulfed him as completely as the darkness. His spontaneous break for freedom had been a disaster. The guards would be doubly careful from now on, making an escape less likely than ever.
Regaining control over his breathing was not easy, and the combination of pain, disappointment and frustration threatened to spark another involuntary response. His diaphragm fluttered as he fought to keep from vomiting. The smell of the food wafting across the cell made the feeling worse, and he swallowed several times in quick succession to clear the taste of sick from the back of his mouth. By sheer force of will, Pell maintained a fragile, but growing edge of control over his stomach. For several minutes, he stayed totally still, concentrating with fierce focus on making each breath slow and steady.
As his control over his body became more secure, anger built inside again like a raging fire. His mind raced as he imagined taking his revenge. I’ll get my own back, he thought. Once I’m reunited with Shadow nothing on Areth will stop me.
Gradually the pain of his wounds dulled to a general throbbing. There were hot spots where some kicks had landed harder than others, but he used these as focus points for his anger as he began to move. Slowly, limb by limb, he uncurled his body and eased across the short distance to the tray of food. He did not feel like eating, but needed to drink. He had been dehydrated before his beating, but knew that more fluid would now flood the regions around his wounds. This would dehydrate him further.
Feeling ahead, Pell located first the tray, and then the beaker. Taking care not to spill the fluid it contained, he lifted it to his lips and sipped. His instinct was to gulp it down in one long draft, but again he exercised self-discipline and drank slowly, sipping the water and rolling it around in his mouth before swallowing.
Some time later, when he was sure he had finished the last drop, Pell carefully eased his body into a sitting position and leaned back against the side of his tiny cot bed. He felt dreadful. It was not just the physical pain, though that was bad. It was deeper than that – like a fist clamped around his heart and a cold lump of ice buried deep within his gut. His mind felt slow and helpless. It was almost as bad as the feelings he had experienced when he had fallen from Shadow’s back. Then it dawned on him. He was afraid.
Kira strode through the door and into the passageway beyond as if she owned the night dragon enclave. Elian and Nolita followed in her wake, neither feeling nor looking anywhere near as confident as their companion. The passageway was empty, but they had taken no more than a dozen paces before a man emerged from a side door ahead of them. He saw them, but Kira did not react as he tensed, his eyes narrowing with suspicion under his dark brows.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded. ‘And what are you doing here? This area belongs to Lord Segun and his council of senior riders.’
The man looked as if he had seen about thirty season rotations. He stood tall and straight, but he had a weak chin that took away any air of authority he might have otherwise commanded.
‘I’m here on Lord Segun’s orders, but who are you?’ Kira retaliated, her voice every bit as challenging as the stranger’s. ‘You don’t look like a rider to me, so what are you doing here?’
‘I am Murvan,’ he replied snootily. ‘I’m not in riding gear because I live here. I’m both a senior rider and Lord Segun’s personal assistant. You, however, I’ve never seen before.’
‘Then you’re just the person we’re here to see,’ Kira said, the challenge gone from her voice and replaced with a tone of purring sweetness. She held up her hand in the traditional gesture of greeting. ‘My name is Ebony, rider of Sharpcry. My companions and I have not been riders long, so we were honoured when Lord Segun, together with five other senior riders, waved us down just beyond the Western Pass this afternoon. He sent us to fetch the prisoner, Pell.’
‘Fetch him? Why?’ Murvan asked suspiciously. ‘Lord Segun was adamant this morning that Pell should be held prisoner.’
‘Then he must have had a change of heart,’ Kira replied with a casual shrug. ‘He ordered us to take Pell and escort him to the mountain range in the north-westernmost area of Isaa. We are to fly as swiftly as possible and meet Lord Segun in the Valley of the Griffins.’
‘Did he tell you why he was going there?’
‘No,’ Kira said. ‘And it was not my place to ask. Our orders are to get the prisoner there as fast as possible. Can you lead us to this Pell person?’
Kira kept her expression calm, though her stomach was turning somersaults inside. She knew she had placed Murvan in a difficult position, and his indecision was playing across his features.
From what little Kira knew of Segun, the man controlled the night dragon enclave with a fist of iron. She was counting on Murvan’s fear of his leader. If he were close enough to Segun to be privy to what the night dragon leader was doing, then Murvan would have to assume she had spoken directly with his leader, or a member of his inner council. There was no other logical way she could know his movements so accurately. The precision of her story lent it credibility he would be brave to ignore. Segun’s wrath was not something to be trifled with.
As Kira had hoped, Murvan did not take long to reach the conclusion she wanted.
‘Follow me,’ he said tersely. He whirled and swept off along the corridor, his long legs striding out so that the three companions were forced almost to run the first few paces to keep up.
Kira glanced back at the other two. Elian gave her a grin and a wink, but Nolita gave no indication that she had seen Kira’s look. Her eyes were fixed on Murvan’s back and she seemed only to have thoughts for where he was leading them.
As Kira suspected, the network of passages that Murvan led them through was extensive. They walked for several minutes in silence, turning first down one passageway and then another. Trying to keep a track of the turns became increasingly difficult, but Kira repeated the pattern over and over in her mind with a song-like rhythm as they went, adding each new turn to the mantra as they made it.
The presence of two guards in the final corridor gave the three young riders the clue that they had arrived.
‘Halt! Who goes there?’
‘It’s Murvan, you fool! Surely you can see that?’
‘Just doin’ as I was told,’ the guard replied, his voice full of
reproach.
Murvan glanced upwards as if searching for divine help. ‘You don’t need to make the challenge if you recognise the . . . oh, never mind,’ he replied, shaking his head in exasperation. ‘Just open up. You’re relieved. Lord Segun wants the prisoner released.’
‘Yes, sir. No problem, sir. Right away, sir.’
Kira watched with concealed amusement at the exchange. Both guards were of heavy build, and apparently had limited intelligence. Their body language, the look in their eyes, their features, even the way the man with the keys fumbled to unhook them from his belt, indicated they were slow of thought. She was glad that they had Murvan with them to give the orders. Men like this would rather die than swerve one iota from their orders, and there would have been no chance of overpowering them.
As the guard rammed the key home into the lock and opened the door, Kira took a deep breath and strode into the cell. The success of this ploy was now totally dependent on Pell. If he gave the game away, things were likely to get difficult very quickly. The element of surprise might help them a little if it came to a fight, but she knew that their chances of winning a physical confrontation with the three men were not good. Worse, there were likely to be more guards within earshot.
‘Is this the one?’ The voice was hard, female and familiar. ‘You’re sure this is Pell?’
Pell crouched by the little cot bed, poised to fight like a cornered wolf. He was wary after his beating earlier, but he was alert to any chance of potential escape. It took a moment for him to make the connection and relate the voice to the person. It was Kira! Kira? Here? And was that Elian and Nolita behind her? His mind whirled with confusion as he tried to imagine how they could have found him, and his eyes flicked back and forth between the guards and his fellow questors.
Kira seemed to be inspecting his face. No doubt he looked a mess after what the guards had done to him. He knew his left eye was swollen and he imagined there would be a fair amount of bruising. He wanted to say something, but the slight narrowing of her eyes gave him the clue that he should not show any sign of recognition. She and the others must have bluffed their way in here. Gods! he thought. They’re braver than I gave them credit for.