She filled a basket with linen, needles, and ointments, needed to care for the dragons. She took a flask of water and added herbs for the antidote. Arana carried both through the halls to the room where the speakers lay on padded lounges.
Arana poured the contents of the flask into a pot of hot tea. One of the slaves filled cups and gave the liquid to the men. One by one, they roused. Arana turned toward the door.
“Dragon slave.”
She stiffened, but turned to face the lord of Sea Cliff Tower. The man had taken away the freedom she earned at High Peaks for her ability to speak to the dragons. When he had killed the lord and his sons, Lagon had made the women of that tower into slaves. She bowed her head to hide the hatred in her eyes. “What is your command, my lord?”
He lifted her chin. His ice blue eyes glittered with remnants of pain. “After you treat the beasts, you will seek me.” A cruel smile curled his thin lips.
She nodded. “I hear and will obey, my lord.”
He grasped her arm. “Soon you will do more.”
“As you command.” The words nearly choked her. She pushed the door open and entered the central hall. From there she left the tower and crossed the landing field to the massive stone building that housed the dragons. The hisses and growls of the four blues reached her. Where should she begin?
*I will tell you,* Verde said.
He directed her to the dragon with a long row of talon slashes along one flank. She cleaned the ichor away and slathered a numbing ointment around the edge of the wound. When she finished the creature’s roars ceased. She daubed healing salve on the open areas and spread strips of linen over the anointed places.
She left the first pen and entered a second and set about mending the tear on the dragon’s wing. A finely woven cloth was placed beneath the tatters. By the time the wing healed, the stitches would disintegrate and the cloth would drop away.
Once the minor injuries of the other dragons had been treated, Arana left the pens. *Verde, thank you.*
*When they are hurt they listen to me.* Verde sighed. *Maybe that’s why I was born green.*
*Could be. As you mature you will learn more.* Arana repacked the basket. She wished Verde could persuade the blues to defy their speakers.
*Arana, no. The evil one would kill the speakers and find new ones. Or, he could destroy the dragons and sell their pelts to the wizards. As long as he lives I will not do this.*
*I know, but I wish we could free them.* As she crossed the landing field and walked toward the still room, a prickling moved along her spine. Her hands formed fists. She steeled herself to face Lagon.
“Arana.” His hand clamped on her arm.
The basket thudded on the ground. “My lord.”
“How fare the beasts?” He turned her to face him.
“The wounds will heal. Two will need several weeks of rest before they can fly.”
“The High Peaks blue was a mighty fighter. Does the red of that lineage grieve?”
Arana nodded. “In the confusion after the flight she would have flown away, but I calmed her.”
“Don’t dampen her spirits too greatly. I want her to rise to mate.” His gaze drilled her. “When she does, my blue will follow. With eggs of her get my dragon stock will improve.” He shoved Arana against the wall. “On that day you will drink the tea and fly with her.”
Arana bit her lower lip. She couldn’t let him see how her fear verged on the edge of terror. “What if she won’t rise?” She couldn’t let Lagon know the red was with egg.
His thin lips curved into a smile that held no hint of humor. “When you speak to her she will have no choice.” He scraped a fingernail along her cheek. “You are as ripe as the dragon. You will bear my son.” He clamped his teeth on her lower lip.
She winced. A sullen anger built inside. She sought to hide her repugnance toward him. He liked his women to cower and obey his commands. In the ten years and one of her captivity here, she’d seen ten women ordered to his bed. She’d seen the bruises and witnessed the lashings as each one failed to produce the son he desperately wanted.
He caught a lock of her hair and wound it around his finger. “Hair the color of flames. Fire is what I demand from you.” He pressed his mouth over hers. His body touched hers and his phala remained flaccid. Once again she was spared a mauling.
Lagon laughed. “Soon.” He held one hand against her throat. “Let your fears grow so I can feast on them when the dragons rise.” He released her.
Though relief threatened to bring her to her knees, she pressed against the wall for support. She thought of her fellow slaves. Most feared him, but one or two lusted to be in his bed. She didn’t understand their fascination. Though handsome, his icy blue eyes and thin lips spoke of his cruel nature.
The blue gem in his ear was said to be a payment for the youth he’d sold to the slavers. The boy had been from High Peaks Tower. Had he been the youngest son of the lord, the boy who had been her friend? Lagon had announced Drakon’s death when the women from High Peaks had reached Sea Cliff.
Her eyes closed. Though she tried to form a picture of her friend, she failed. For several years after her captivity, she had dreamed of the young man and of being rescued.
The sound of boots against the stone floor announced Lagon’s departure. Arana released her held breath. She returned the basket to the still room, and then ran down the inner hall to the bathing room. There she scrubbed away the odors of her labor and the stench of fear. She dressed. Instead of going to the rooms where the slaves were housed she walked to the landing court. At the edge, she stared at the sea. Waves crashed against the rocks. Far below servants removed the dragon’s hide.
The ship she’d seen earlier had docked at the wharf in the nearby village. She noted the green flag and knew the ship belonged to the wizards. She breathed a sigh of relief. Their arrival meant Lagon would leave the tower once the hide had been scraped and the curing begun. He would eagerly negotiate a sale.
* * *
Verde scurried along the corridor past the pens holding the dragons. The High Peaks red had fled from her pen and prepared for flight. *Not yet,* he commanded. “Return to your pen until after the sun sets.*
The dragon whined, but followed his order. Verde’s chest puffed with pride and he swallowed a roar. The sound would alert the servants and they would discover his presence. He needed Arana’s help. He peered from the entrance to the pens and saw her standing at the wall. *Come.*
*What is wrong?*
*The High Peaks red has freed herself from her pen. I kept her from taking flight. She will go tonight. Could you bring her an extra feeding and put in thorns as well as berries?*
Arana ran across the landing yard to his side. *If she escapes the eggs will be lost.*
*If she lays them here, Lagon will destroy them. She must go. If her eggs are destroyed I will be the last of my lineage.* The thought caused grief to fill his voice. “She wants to go to High Peaks.”
Arana stroked his side. *Then we must pray she reaches her destination. There is a cavern there with warm sand and a pool for swimming. There must have been animals that escaped when Lagon invaded for her to hunt.* She shuddered. “He will blame me.*
*Will he beat you?*
*A punishment I will gladly bear. I’m sorry he didn’t sell me to the slavers when he sold some of the women from High Peaks. I think he might have sold the last son of the lord, too.*
“Does the son still live?*
*Who knows if he does, or where he is?* She squared her shoulders. *Let me bring meat for the red.* For an instant she wished she could flee with the dragon.
*We will find a way for you to escape.*
* * *
Lagon smiled. A slaver’s ship was in port. The wizards on board would pay well for the dragon’s pelt, and they would wait in port until the skin was cured. He left the tower and walked down the path to the rocks. One half of the blue pelt soaked in the brine. Though a red brought more coins, he had a u
se for the remaining High Peaks dragon. He intended to bargain for another blue gem, and a string of red ones for Arana.
When images of her naked and bound to his bed arose, his phala throbbed. He drew a deep breath and fought to control the image. When he took her for the first time she would be in the speakers’ hall after a mating flight. The heirs of the three other towers would witness the event so no one could say the son she bore belonged to another man.
He barked a laugh. She disliked and feared him. He would possess her. Once she gave him a son, he would make her his wife. From the moment he’d seen her during the takeover at High Peaks he had desired her. But she had been a child. No longer.
“Come back.” A woman’s shout interrupted his reverie.
He wheeled and saw the only child of his loins running from her nurse. Her ebony-colored hair had escaped its braid and flew in a dark cloud around her face. The girl halted at his side. “Why did you kill the dragon?” Her dark eyes flashed with anger.
“For my own reasons. You have no right to question me.”
“He was brave. I watched the battle from the tower heights. If he had fought one, or even two dragons, he would have won. Who was his speaker?”
“He had none.”
She put her hands on her hips. “You should have kept him. He was stronger and cannier than the Sea Cliff blue.”
Lagon’s hands clenched. How could she have a loyalty to High Peaks? She was his daughter, not the get of the long dead lord of that now deserted tower. He grated his teeth. That lord had taken the woman Lagon wanted. In the end, the Lord of High Peaks Tower was dead, and Lagon had possessed the woman until she had ended her life after Lorana’s birth.
“Go to your room,” he commanded. The moment he was sure Arana was with child, Lorana would go to the slavers.
* * *
Several days had passed since he and Radlan returned from the village. Drakon climbed the stairs past his room on the second level of the tower and continued until he reached the square area at the top. He walked around the wall surrounding the edge and halted at one of the corners. He rested his elbows on the cap stone and peered in the direction of Sea Cliff Tower.
Though the distance was too far to see the tower, he remembered every moment of the five day journey by horse. He’d been forced to ride with Lagon. A gag effectively prevented speech. All during the trip, Lagon gloated over his victory. At the journey’s end Drakon remembered how berry tea had been forced down his throat. When the agony of the headache had ceased he’d been aboard a slaver’s ship. Drakon sucked in a breath of cold air. Would Lagon ever pay for the death and destruction he had wrought?
*Drakon, come.*
*Old One, what’s wrong?*
*She escapes.*
*Who?*
*The last red of High Peak’s lineage. Soon she will lay her eggs. Eggs we need.*
Drakon started to the door. *When will she arrive?*
*She will not manage the distance. We must go to her.*
*What can I do? How far must I ride?* Drakon did not like the thought of leaving High Peaks.
*You will fly with me.*
“Men don’t fly.*
*In the past, men and women rode on the backs of reds and blues. This is what you will need. A fur pad and long leather straps. Fur-lined sacks, stones to heat in a fire, and pieces of fur to cover them and cushion the eggs. Find the sleeping sacks. I will need an extra feeding of meat and thorns. You must also carry a feeding in a leather sack.*
Drakon clattered down the steps. In the storeroom he gathered the supplies the yellow requested. He pulled on a heavy jacket and took a pair of gloves.
When he entered the kitchen, Sofona appeared in the doorway of the hall leading to the quarters she shared with Radlan. “Is the Old One ill?”
“No. We go to rescue a High Peaks red and her eggs.” He told her what the Old One wanted.
“I’ll wake Radlan. He’ll bring the feedings.”
“Make sure he packs a second one and adds thorns to both. I must figure how to fasten these things to the Old One’s back.”
Sofona laughed. “You will fly like the men and women on the tapestry that once hung in the great hall.”
Drakon nodded. He had vague memories of the massive wall hanging. Hadn’t he seen and used that weaving after his return? Maybe the tapestry had been a different one. “I believe I will.” He carried his gatherings to the cavern and placed them on the sand.
The Old One sent pictures that Drakon followed, carefully placing the fur pad over the ridges on the dragon’s back. Because the yellow’s spinal ridges were narrower than the reds and blues there was no room for a saddle. He fastened the straps to the pad, ran one on either side of the Old One’s neck and united them with the pair drawn over the dragon’s rear legs.
Radlan arrived with the feedings. While the yellow ate, Drakon added the rocks and furs to the two enormous sacks and tied them to the riding pad. As soon as the Old One had devoured the meal, Drakon climbed to the dragon’s back. He fastened himself to the pad. The yellow moved from the cavern, across the forecourt and stepped over the edge. The great wings unfurled.
Drakon’s stomach felt as though it had dropped to the ground. Just before they crashed into a stand of towering firs, the Old One caught an updraft and they soared into the moonlit sky. With caution Drakon relaxed his hold on the fur.
*Drakon, open your speaker’s path and call the red.*
Drakon sent a silent call to the High Peaks dragon. The yellow’s voice joined his. *I do not know your name. I am the son of the dead lord of High Peaks Tower. I want to help you.* Over and over he sent the message.
*I am the Old One, a yellow of High Peaks’ lineage. I want to help you. Call us. Lead us to you.*
*Who?* The voice carried undertones of pain, sadness, and fear. The emotions vibrated through Drakon.
*Once I was called Jade. I am your controller. Where are you?*
*Gone from Sea Cliff. Past the captive towers. I thought to reach the cavern, but I stayed too long. My mate is dead. The evil one set the other blues on him. My eggs arrive soon.*
Drakon heard despair in the dragon’s voice and sought to give her hope. *You must live. We need your eggs, or the lineage is ended.*
*We will take the eggs to safety,* the Old One said.
*Will my dragonets be free from the evil one?*
*You have my pledge,* Drakon said. *They will fly and I will be their speaker. I was a slave. Now I am free. Your offspring will be cherished. I will rebuild High Peaks Tower and see those of Sea Cliff punished for what they have done.*
*Not the dragons,* she said. *Just the evil one. The dragons have no controller and their speakers must obey the evil one.* Her voice sounded louder. *I must land and wait for you. The eggs come soon.*
Before long, Drakon saw a large dark shape on the ground. The moonlight revealed the red’s resting place. The Old One spiraled down and landed near the laboring dragon.
*The eggs,* the red cried. *You have come in time. Care for them. High Peaks Tower will grow strong with honorable speakers and dragons.*
Drakon quickly untied the straps and slid to the ground. He started a small fire to heat rocks to bury beneath the furs in the sacks. As he worked, he wondered what he could do to fulfill the red’s predictions. How could he rebuild the line of speakers? They were usually the sons of the tower’s lord. Thoughts of being with a woman filled him with panic. Memories of the conditioning by the priestesses of the Temple of Fyre bound him with iron bands.
*Not always the sons,* the Old One said. *Speakers can be found among the kin both near and far.*
*And in ones not tied by blood,* the red said.
Were they right? Drakon sat beside the grieving red and encouraged her. The first egg arrived. He nearly protested when the Old One caught the blue egg in his talons and licked the shell.
*Pick it up. Breathe on it,* the yellow dragon said. *Then place the egg in one of the sacks. There is no blue to perfo
rm the rite. Your breath must do.*
When the red laid the second egg, the Old One licked the shell and rolled the egg to the female dragon. Her tongue moved over the surface.
*Do not touch this one with your skin,* the Old One cautioned.
The red began to shake. *Speaker, my time has come. Name the dragonets and care for them.*
*I will.*
*Old One, you must teach them.*
*I will.*
*There is a green of our lineage at Sea Cliff. He was hidden and cared for by Arana, who can speak to all the dragons the way you can.*
Arana. Drakon’s thoughts drifted to his childhood in the tower. There had been a girl four years younger. His parents rescued her from the slavers. She earned her freedom because of her ability to care for the dragons. Could Arana the red spoke of be the same girl?
*The evil one has made her a slave again,* the red said. *She helped me escape.*
A picture of a young woman entered Drakon’s thoughts. Her hair, the color of flames, told him the truth. She was his friend and playmate. *Why did he enslave her? She was free.*
*There are no free women at Sea Cliff. There are no free dragons, except the green. Verde is his name.* The red rose and unfurled her wings. She lumbered forward.
Though she rose from the ground, Drakon knew she would never clear the trees. *Old One, stop her.*
*She chooses death. Honor her choice and honor her. Open the feed sack. While I eat, call the green.*
Chapter Two
Verde woke with a start. He peered through the grillwork set high on the wall of his pen. The full moon lit the sky.
*Green dragon. Verde.*
The voice sounded again. He looked around, but the dense shadows showed no one. *Who calls?* The voice was deeper than any of the dragons at Sea Cliff. Besides, they never called his name. He only spoke to them to prevent an accidental discovery of his presence, or when Arana needed to care for their injuries.
Dragons of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 2) Page 2