Dragons of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 2)

by Janet Lane-Walters

  Arana slid to the edge of the bed. The shutters were open. She glanced outside. The sun had reached midday. Had Lagon discovered her absence? Would he search for her? Would he realize she escaped with Verde’s help? She didn’t think he knew she saved the egg and kept the green dragon alive.

  Sofona called her name and entered the room. “Where are you going?”

  “To the necessary.”

  The older woman handed her a cup. “Drink this. Then I’ll help you.”

  By the time they returned to the bedchamber the medicine made her feel tired and weak. “On your stomach,” Sofona said. “I need to change the dressings.”

  As Sofona worked, Arana drifted to sleep. Verde saved her from Lagon, but if Drakon hadn’t been at High Peaks, she would have died. Her thoughts wandered to the kiss. Sweet yet exciting but nothing like Lagon’s brutal kisses. She carried memories of Drakon into her dreams. In them he didn’t run. He touched her nether lips and she caressed his phala.

  The images changed and became chaotic. Lagon appeared. He wielded his whip. Once more the lash landed on her back. She ran and he caught her. “I will never forget you. I was promised you would give me a son. The dragons will search and they will find you. You are mine.”

  She heard the voices of the blues who were housed in the pens at Sea Cliff. Their voices thundered. “Mine. Mine. Mine.”

  With a start she woke. Her body ached. Slowly she rolled from her stomach to her side. Sharp jolts of pain caused her to gasp for breath. Had she broken the healing wounds open? She eased herself into a sitting position and waited for the pain to lessen before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. The room seemed to sway then straighten.

  Arana planted her feet on the floor. Three times dizziness kept her seated. The fourth time she managed to stand. Step by step, she crossed the room, opened the door and entered the hall. With one hand on the wall, she made her way to the necessary. There she leaned against a stone ledge and splashed cold water on her face. She quickly relieved herself and made her way back to the chamber. She sank on the edge of the bed. With difficulty, she managed to return to her stomach. She let the waves of dizziness carry her into sleep.

  The door opened. “Arana.”

  Arana blinked and tried to turn. She groaned. “Sofona.”

  “Child, are you all right. You look whiter than a fresh snowfall.”

  “I think I did too much. I went to the necessary on my own.”

  The older woman set the tray she held on the table and helped Arana sit up. “Do you think you could eat? I’ve brought a meal and a potion for the pain. Your fever broke last night.”

  “How long have I been here?”

  “This is the third day.”

  Arana swallowed. Surely Lagon was aware she had vanished. He could come for her. “I have to hide.”

  “You’re safe here.” Sofona arranged the pillow and sheepskins. “Aren’t you hungry?”

  “I am. I can’t remember when I last ate.” Sofona put a tray with legs over Arana’s lap. The fragrance of spices reached her. She stared at the food. Eggs with toasted bread. Thick porridge covered with honey and cream, and flavored with something that caused tantalizing aromas to rise with the steam. So different from the gruel and stale bread the slaves at Sea Cliff ate.

  “Eat slowly,” Sofona cautioned. “Then you must sleep. That is the best medicine for healing.”

  Arana tasted the spiced porridge and savored every bite. She scooped some of the eggs onto a piece of bread, but her appetite had fled. With a sigh, she put the bread down. “I can eat no more. At Sea Cliff, slaves were fed much less and far poorer fare than you have given me.” She looked at the remainder of the food. “I hate to waste.”

  “Don’t fear. Nothing is wasted here. We have a sow and eight piglets, plus several goats that eat anything.” Sofona handed her a mug of medicine.

  Arana drank and slumped against the soft pillows. Before long the pain in her back eased.

  Sofona lifted the tray. “Rest now. I’ll be back later to change the dressings.”

  “Will I have scars?”

  “Some, but they will fade. There will be no ropy ones to hinder full use of your arms.”

  Arana released a held breath. That news was good. She had little time to think of other questions before sleep stole over her.

  For three more days she remained in the room, only taking short trips to the necessary. Sofona was her only visitor. Though she was curious about Drakon’s absence Arana didn’t ask the older woman about his whereabouts. In time she would confront him and learn what had happened to her friend under the rule of the priestesses.

  Sofona arrived with clothes and a pair of soft deerskin boots. “Try these. Drakon and my husband used your sandals and my measurements to make them.”

  Arana pulled the boots over her feet. “They’re perfect.”

  On the morning of the next day, Arana donned a divided skirt and a long sleeved tunic. She stood at the window and stared at the sky. A flash of green appeared. *Verde.* She had been so ill from her injuries, she had forgotten her friend.

  *Arana, have you stopped hurting?*

  *Yes. How are you?*

  *Rested. Well fed and happy. The cavern is nicer than the pens at Sea Cliff. The berries and thorns are excellent. I can fly in the day and see the trees and animals.*

  *I’m glad you like it here.*

  *Oh, I do. I do. Drakon and the man oil my hide. Drakon speaks to me, but his voice is rougher than yours. The Old One teaches me. I am growing bigger and wiser. You should come to see me.*

  Arana leaned on the window sill. A cold wind blew from the mountains. *When Sofona says I am healed I’ll leave my nest and come to the cavern.*

  *You will like it. There are pretty lights and soft sand. Softer than the sand at Sea Cliff, and it does not stick to you. It is warm.* He giggled. *The sand is magic. It never becomes dirty. There is a pool where I can swim. You could, too. I miss you.*

  Arana smiled. *I miss you, too. Are the eggs all right?*

  *They are maturing. That is what the Old One says. I lick them every day. When they hatch you will speak to and ride the red.*

  *The way I rode on your back? I don’t think I would like that.*

  *The Old One says there is another way. He knows many things.* Verde sighed. *I will not have a flyer. Greens are not big enough.*

  *Is the Old One yellow?*

  *Yes. He was green like me until he got old. When I am old I will be yellow, but that won’t be for a long, long time.*

  *I remember him from when I lived here before Lagon came. It’s hard to believe he still lives.*

  *He does, and he teaches me what to do with the eggs, and how to care for the dragonets after they hatch. They will learn how to speak and how to fly. I go now. There is food in my trough.*

  Arana closed the window shutters and walked to the door. When she opened it, she saw Sofona on the stairs. “I feel stronger. Can I come downstairs?”

  “If you feel well enough.” Sofona paused. “I’ll walk with you. You can keep me company and help in the kitchen until you feel tired.”

  Arana laughed. “I’m tired of being abed. At Sea Cliff, such a long rest wouldn’t be allowed. Can I go to the cavern?”

  The older woman grasped her arm. “Tomorrow if this jaunt doesn’t over-tire you I will take you there. You should not rush. The dragons are well cared for and the eggs are fine.”

  “So Verde tells me, but I miss him.” Arana halted at the foot of the stairs and drew several deep breaths. “Since he hatched, he has been my only friend.”

  Sofona chuckled. “And such a friend. Drakon says the young dragon asks about you every day. “

  When they reached the large kitchen, Arana saw there were just two places set at one of the long stone tables. Three other tables stood in rows. “I remember this room and how all the women and children helped prepare the meals.” She pointed to the stone trough that jutted from the far wall. “We chopped meat fo
r us and for the dragons there.” She walked to the enormous fireplace fitted with a number of spits and rods for hanging pots. Several grills jutted from the sides. She pointed to a row of doors running from floor to the mantle on the left side. “We baked bread and cakes there.”

  “And still do,” Sofona said. “Though not as many as in those days.”

  “Where are Drakon and Radlan?”

  Sofona placed a bowl of eggs mixed with cheese and potatoes on the table. “They went to the village for the remainder of the thorns and berries. Also for the animals we’ll need for the hatching. They took the hide from the deer your friend caught to trade for cloth.”

  “I wish I could have seen him do that.”

  *I will hunt again. When do you visit me?”

  *Tomorrow.*

  * * *

  Verde waited at the entrance to the cavern. He paced back and forth. Arana was on the way. He wasn’t sure how many days had passed since their escape, but he missed her. For part of the time he hadn’t been able to hear more than her cries of pain and her fever dreams. Then the Old One had forced silence so Verde could not here her.

  Arana and the older woman wheeled a barrow of meat, crushed thorns, and berries, into the cavern. Verde snatched a piece of meat from the top. His tail beat against the ground. He thought about how clever he’d been.

  *Don’t be so greedy. Wait until your food is served.* Arana scooped clumps of beef and mutton into his trough. Sofona tended to the Old One’s feeding. Arana stepped back and studied the green.

  *I growed.* Verde swallowed a large chunk.

  She laughed. *So I can see.* She bowed to the other dragon. *Old One, I’m so glad you live.”

  *So am I. I had to remain until my replacement is ready to become a controller.*

  “I pray that will be a long time. How did you escape when Lagon came? I thought you were dead when I didn’t see you among the dragons he captured.*

  *I hid in one of the dark caves. Once his men entered the tower and killed the speakers for the blues, the dragons would not listen to me. The evil one believes the lineage of the dragons of High Peaks has ended. In time he will learn he is wrong.*

  *He’ll learn soon. My escape may give him the knowledge.*

  *If so, we will handle him.*

  *Where are the eggs?*

  *In the sand beside the two columns of blue light near the pool.*

  Arana left the dragons to their feeding. Verde watched her kneel beside the eggs. She looked up. *The sand is hot.*

  “The Old one says the ground there heats from below. Do not touch the blue.*

  *Why not?*

  *The Old One says the blue is Drakon’s. You can touch the red, for that egg is yours.*

  Arana stroked the shell. She felt a throbbing inside. “*Grow large, little dragon.*

  *She cannot hear you,* Verde said. *Neither one can hear me, or the Old One.*

  Arana rose and walked to the edge of the lake. Light from the pillars of many colors glowed in the dark surface. *How lovely.*

  *Good for bathing. Drakon swims with us. So do Sofona and Radlan. You can, too.*

  *When Sofona says I can.* She noticed where the water drained and watched a bit of dirt bubble from the bottom and float away.

  Verde ate the last of his food and walked to the eggs. He lifted one and licked the shell. Then he did the same to the other.

  *Why are you doing that?* Arana asked.

  *The Old One says the shells allow my saliva to enter and something in it helps the dragonets grow. When the time is right the saliva will help the shells crack.* Verde left the eggs and walked to the pool. With a splash he entered the water.

  Arana jumped back. *Verde.*

  *Sorry.*

  The Old One slid into the water without causing more than a ripple. *Young dragons are so exuberant.*

  Arana laughed. She turned to Sofona. The older woman dipped rags into a large clay jug. “What are you doing?”

  “This is oil for their hides. Rendered from the fat of the animals we kill to eat. Keeps their hides supple.” When the Old One left the water, Sofona wiped the cloth over his pelt.

  Verde left the pool. Arana applied oil to him. *This feels good,* he said.

  *I wish I had known about the oiling when we were at Sea Cliff.* Arana’s voice held a note of regret. *You bear scars where your skin split and I had to use the healing salve.*

  *That helped.* Verde sighed. *I bet Lagon knew, but he thinks of dragons as tools. Twice since we fled, dragons have been aloft. I heard them. Once was a mating flight. The other was to search for us, but they went no further than the captive towers. I listened, but I didn’t speak.*

  *A wise move,* the Old One said. *Now is not the time to command them.*

  Verde curled on the sand. *I will sleep now.*

  * * *

  Drakon rode his horse into the village. Though the sky was a brilliant blue, dark clouds gathered over the distant mountains. Most of the brilliantly colored leaves had fallen from the trees. He knew the storms of winter approached. “Greetings,” he called.

  The headman stepped from his house. “Why have you returned so soon?”

  “We’ve come for the rest of the fyrethorn harvest. We also have some hides to trade for cloth. We bring news for the council and the people.”

  The headman walked to the square and used a hammer to rap on a bell Drakon hadn’t noticed when he’d been there before. “I hope this news is good. The men who guard the pass against another incursion from the lowlands report dragons have been aloft. Though they were distant, the men felt they searched for more than game.”

  Radlan laughed. “You’ll hear the news when all have gathered.” He dismounted and led his horse to the village stables.

  As Drakon followed he heard the bell ring again. When the horses had been cared for, he and Radlan returned to the square. A crowd had gathered.

  “Lord Drakon has come with news,” the headman said,

  “I bear some awaited tidings,” Drakon said.

  “About the dragons seen at a distance?” a man asked.

  “Are we in danger of another invasion?” a second shouted.

  “Winter is almost on us,” Radlan said. “The pass will be closed. The dragons at Sea Cliff seldom take to the air in winter.”

  Drakon nodded. “He is right, but here is the real news. There are eggs in the cavern, a red and a blue. A young green of High Peaks lineage escaped from Sea Cliff. The Old One trains him for his duties as a controller.”

  The headman clapped his hands. The people cheered. “The word you bring is a cause for celebration.” He waved to several of the men. “Have a keg of ale and one of cider breached. Let food be brought to the square. We have hopes that one day High Peaks Tower will be a full district again.”

  The people scurried to their homes. Soon an impromptu feast had been laid on hastily erected tables. Drakon spoke to the carters and arranged for the transport of the remainder of the fyrethorn harvest. Radlan met with the herdsmen to gather more culls from the herds and flocks. With their need for frequent feedings the two hatchlings would increase the tower’s need for meat.

  As Drakon filled his plate Tiron approached. “Who will speak with the dragonets?”

  “I will fly the blue.”

  Drakon’s far cousin frowned. “Fly? Don’t you mean speak?”

  Drakon grinned. “The Old one says that in days long past men and women rode on the backs of the dragons."

  Tiron’s eyes widened. “I wish I could be one.”

  Drakon clasped the young man’s hand. “There will be more dragons at High Peaks. The Old One said the dragonets will mature quickly and rise to mate before spring is well established. He said the other towers must be freed and their lines made stronger before the dragons are gone forever from the land.”

  “Are you saying I’ll be one of those riders?”

  ‘Only if you can speak to the dragons without drinking the berry tea. The effect of the drugs in the poti
on would cause a rider to fall.”

  Tiron frowned. “I’ve never tried the tea. There was no reason to test anyone since your father had three sons. Several times I’ve jabbed myself on the thorns during the harvest. The headache was fierce enough to make me fear the tea.”

  Drakon’s brow wrinkled. Did this mean something? Before he could ask Tiron more questions, Bekla sauntered toward them. Drakon’s hands formed fists. He would rather avoid the young woman. Before he could retreat she placed her hand on his arm.

  “So there are eggs at High Peaks,” she said. “I will speak with the red and fly with her on the mating flights. Who else is there but me?” She edged closer.

  Drakon swallowed. Her seductive scent wafted toward him. Images of his time in the harras arose. He wanted no part of what she promised. “The speaker for the red has been chosen.”

  Bekla’s lips curled into a sneer. “One of those girls? You are a fool if you think one of them can be a dragon’s chosen. When your oldest brother was a speaker I rode the dragon with him.”

  Her statement puzzled him. Both his brothers had been married, and the oldest one’s wife had been with child on the day a red had risen in a mating flight. “I don’t believe you.”

  She laughed. “He isn’t alive to say I didn’t. Tell me the name of the one you’ve chosen.”

  He pulled free and turned away from her. “I had nothing to do with the choosing.”

  Bekla ran after him. “Tell me.”

  “She is the one who speaks to the green dragon. Without her there would be no eggs in the cavern.” He strode away and joined the other young people.

  Tiron clasped his arm. “Take care. Bekla always gets what she wants. You will have to protect the red dragon’s chosen from her.”

  “Arana can handle herself.”

  The young man frowned. “I know no one of that name in the village. I’ve never heard that name used around here.”