Dragon's Revenge

by Debi Ennis Binder

  “This corridor leads to another cavern, where the dragons are being kept,” Feshr abruptly said. He stopped and turned back to Mayra. “Listen!”

  His words seemed to open a door; Mayra could suddenly hear the roars and screams of dragons, frightened and enraged in the same breath. A pain-filled, blindingly sharp blow blasted apart in her head. She cried out, grinding her teeth as she staggered against Fauler.

  The cries were intensifying, sending more and more piercing pleas for help into Mayra’s head. Fauler’s eyes closed a long moment.

  The many voices of our stricken mates. The green dragon’s mind-speak was strained. Be still; let me lay a shield over their cries. I will quiet them and lessen your pain.

  Mayra gasped again as she felt a blanket-like stillness drop over her. The relief that flooded her was almost physical—she drew in a sharp breath. She had felt this before—Gaulte had done the same thing to her, covering her pain after her fight with Plyn and the bushdog, and when the nestlings had tried to show her a picture, resulting in a headache she wouldn’t soon forget.

  “Better?” the gnome asked, staring up at her in concern. She nodded. “Good.” He hesitated, then shook his head. “There is strange magic blending here now, Highness.”

  “Please, Feshr, call me Mayra.”

  He looked down at his feet a moment, then peered up at her. “If you insist that I must.” He touched her cloak tentatively. “It is far warmer as we move into the cave, would you wish to leave this? It will likely hamper you.”

  “Oh, yes, I should,” she said absently, and unfastened the black garment. She hesitated, then loosened the black-and-silver cloak she’d worn under it, as well.

  Feshr took both cloaks, folded them carefully, and laid them on a small stack of wood. He turned to his companions and spoke quietly to them. Four of the five gnomes turned and vanished into the darkness. The fifth sat down near Mayra’s cloaks.

  “Our guard,” Feshr said cheerfully.

  Mayra’s eyebrows rose. What good would that wee gnome serve as a guard? And what was he guarding—a huge metal box? Before she could ask, Fauler stirred.

  “Can we go?” the green dragon rumbled.

  Mayra smiled. “We shouldn’t ignore an impatient dragon.”

  “Indeed,” Feshr agreed. “Come, it is this way.”

  As they started down the corridor, Mayra could hear faint, odd sounds, definitely not noises she had ever heard a dragon make, but something almost like distant chanting. As soon as they rounded the first curve, the puzzling sounds stilled and Feshr stopped. He made a wide, sweeping gesture with one arm and magic filled the hall, twinkling like endless stars above them and then shooting down the hall, showing them the path.

  Under different circumstance, Mayra would have enjoyed the colorful display. But not now.

  Mayra tried not to think about what awaited them as she followed Feshr. Despite what the gnome had told her they would find ahead—drugged dragons—she was certain something deadly lay at the end of this huge, dim passage. She scoffed at her fanciful thoughts, but wouldn’t dismiss them out of hand. It might be nothing more than the danger represented by the pent-up emotions of Hesta and the other adult dragons. Yes, they might be caged, but she would not stumble blindly forward and hope for the best, even with Fauler beside her.

  Feshr continued to guide them forward, into utter silence, marked only by the sounds of wind and drips of water. But before long, Mayra slowed and paused; Fauler urged her forward, but they’d not walked more than a quarter-hour before she slowed again. The hairs on her arms and neck rose, and she shivered. When the wind blew, it swirled through long threads of a thin white substance that hung from the ceiling and walls.

  It is curious, Mayra thought, to creep along the corridor, illumined by tiny, twinkling stars, led by a being that barely reaches my waist and followed by one who nearly brushes the ceiling. Yet none make a sound. And now, I feel we aren’t here alone.

  She barely heard Fauler’s chuckle and realized she had shared that thought with him, much as she often did Wolfe. She turned to the green dragon. He was forced to lower himself to avoid the top of the cave; he had to bend down still further to hear her whisper, “Is there something following us, Fauler? I feel something in this corridor that I—” She broke off and shook her head in irritation. “Please, open yourself and search. Perhaps it is nothing.”

  “I never discard such feelings,” he returned gravely, his quiet words faint hisses in the silence. “Go now. I will gradually fall behind.”

  Mayra nodded and started forward when a harsh, female voice filled her head.

  Who are you? I will kill you if you have harmed my child!

  The Ring-Witch gasped. The mind-speak ‘voice’ was furious and terrifyingly powerful—and feminine. If that was Hesta, how would Mayra keep the red dragon from killing her, at least long enough to tell the beast she was there to help?

  No! Mayra tried to make the dragon hear her. Tamsin will be safe, please—

  Mayra knew immediately that she had erred in speaking the young dragon’s name. A soul-chilling roar raced down the corridor toward them, nearly shaking Mayra off her feet.

  “Fauler!” Mayra cried to the green dragon. She looked around. She could see the green dragon, further down the passageway, hurrying back toward her. But where was Feshr? She looked around, but they couldn’t stop to search for him. She turned back to Fauler. “Make her understand we are here to rescue them!”

  How do you know her name? Hesta’s mind-speak was savage. What have you done to my nestling? Who are you? The roar repeated; this time, like the mind-speak, tinged with fear and confusion. Gaulte… The whisper filled Mayra. I feel my mate. Who are you? Come forward!

  Mayra again whirled on Fauler.

  “Talk to her!” she cried.

  “I cannot.” His large golden eyes briefly closed. Something is there, Mayra, something that stops me. I cannot understand—you can hear her! Tell her who we are and why we are here!

  If Hesta had found a path into Mayra’s thoughts, the Ring-Witch should have access to Hesta. It had been wide open, but as Mayra sent out a slight, probing thought, she felt something push back and then close, as though someone slammed a door shut. However she had communicated with the red dragon, it was gone. Blocked.

  Fauler glanced at her and shook his head. He, too, could tell that conduit was now closed.

  “It feels like oakenwood, pushing back at me,” she whispered. “Someone is with them. Someone must know that we are trying to get to them.”

  “Where is that wee gnome?” Fauler growled.

  “I don’t know.” Hesta’s rage might have been something the gnome hadn’t expected. It had frightened him and Mayra could not take time to look for him. “Probably hiding somewhere. We need to go.”

  “This is the same thing that happened before, in Nesht,” Fauler suddenly whispered. “When we could not talk to one another.”

  The witch and the dragon continued down the vast arched corridor, neither speaking, unwilling to chance using mind-speak to seek out Hesta yet again. Mayra wondered if Feshr had fled after somehow grasping Hesta’s threats and Mayra’s entreaties.

  As they walked, a sudden thought chilled Mayra. If Hesta was blocked from any further communications with her rescuers, had Hagan returned? The Ring-Witch had no real proof that he had strong enough magic to erect a barrier that dragons could not overcome. But if he had returned, if he had muted the dragons, he had somehow trapped Mayra in the same snare of silence.

  * * *

  Fauler walked patiently alongside his tiny human companion though his entire being longed for nothing more than to charge ahead and find his stolen family.

  The green dragon thought about what the gnome—the missing gnome he angrily amended—had said earlier about the blend of strange magic around them. Hesta had sounded almost like a wild dragon, one who had never known the touch of either another dragon or a human. He wondered if such magic would have affected th
e mature, level-headed Hesta to the point where Mayra and the other witches were in true peril.

  “Fauler?”

  He slowed. Mayra had stopped further ahead of him. He walked closer to her and nudged her shoulder, giving her an enquiring “Hmm?” She raised her hand hesitantly, then touched his snout.

  “What if Hagan has returned and it is he blocking Hesta from contacting us?”

  “I don’t feel the presence of another dragon,” Fauler said. “But I cannot disagree, for the blend of witch and dragon magic might do things I once counted as impossible.”

  “And that is a comforting thought,” she murmured. She shook her head. “I know this will sound foolish but I suddenly feel a threat ahead. I-I mean different danger than what we’re expecting. Sometimes, when I scry and see future danger, there are impressions—sensations, that go with seeing such things.” She gave a slight shrug. “I know I’m not making any sense; it’s not something I can easily describe. But unfortunately, I have that awareness now, Fauler.”

  “Then it is more prudent that I go ahead of you.”

  She was already shaking her head no.

  “Why?” he asked sensibly.

  She looked around. “That damned gnome—when we were getting out of that box, I should have focused on him and not a damned boon. He spoke so fast. He said this corridor ends in a human-sized door. On the other side are the adult dragons. Is that where Hesta might be?”

  “That seems likely,” Fauler agreed. He thought a moment longer, then nodded. “That is likely oakenwood blocking that cavern, but as you said, we were communicating before, so someone who knew you were coming is awaiting you, Mayra.” He moved aside to peer around her. His voice dropped. “I do not trust that wee gnome, so full of helpful information! And then disappearing.”

  “I know,” she whispered, but then she brightened. “I gave him the boon he requested, perhaps he has gone back to the conveyance where the other gnomes stayed behind, to explain what must be done. But we need to go. I need to get into that other cavern.” She touched his nose again, patting it gently. “Fauler, I don’t see how you will be able to get in there. Do you think it’s important that the other Aerie dragons see me with you?”

  “Aye, were there a way,” Fauler growled. “You are wise not to want to confront the females on your own. I fear to them, you’re yet another human no better than the ones that captured them.”

  “No better, hm?” she asked, and poked his nose.

  Fauler nudged her back and she almost lost her balance. “Not to them, little witchling, for they are altered with plant-drugs and from what I felt of Hesta, it is not a good thing.”

  Mayra gave him a weary smile. “Hesta will not hurt me. Gaulte said she would sense him on me and know me through that.”

  “And I feel it’s a trap,” Fauler repeated stubbornly. “Someone unknown allowed Hesta to contact you long enough to ensure you would seek her out without question. That gnome sent you down a corridor that ends with a human-sized door I cannot pass through. How is that not a trap?”

  Mayra peered into shadows as she walked up and down the area where Feshr had vanished, looking for hidden doors or another corridor before giving up.

  “Fauler, I can’t disagree that it’s a trap. And you might not have realized it, my friend, but when you are my size, venturing into the unknown is always dangerous.” She sighed long. “There’s nothing to do but see what we have behind that door, awaiting us.”

  Awaiting her.

  * * *

  Payk and Fyrid stared at Berent in astonishment. Berent had just lowered his sword and said, casually—but loudly—that he had decided he’d had enough of battling with sheep.

  But not before felling more than a few “sheep,” as evidenced by the bodies scattering around them. Berent had carefully wiped the blood from his blade and made his announcement.

  Wolfe turned away with a grin, deftly cleaning his sword as he kept an eye on the disheartened Cherra, who hadn’t seemed to realize one does not threaten warriors with a fight, and not see blood. She had already feigned a fainting spell. Losing the contents of her stomach, however, had been real.

  He was certain Berent knew not to speak loud enough to tell your opponents what you were doing and why—unless you meant for them to hear.

  “What the hell do you mean?” Payk demanded, looking around.

  Berent shrugged and sheathed his blade. “Just what I said—I’m not in the mood to continue a sword battle with witless sheep—enthralled guards who surely must be more helpless than the most inexpert swordsmen. Fyrid, let this be yet another lesson. When you battle men, there must be a purpose, not merely the desire to kill. We wish to get their attention and ensure the woman releases them from whatever thrall she holds over them.” He patted his side, and through the thick cloak, they heard the clank of metal. “That is what this little piece of death is for. I didn’t carry this ungainly weapon all the way up that trail for nothing.” He grinned at them. “I have a feeling my friends, that those men will not appreciate coming face to face with it!”

  He pulled the black cloak off and tossed it aside. As his companions watched, Berent moved aside him own cloak, picked up the tube, winked at his watching team, tucked the weapon under his arm, then spun and aimed it at the group of Cherra’s remaining guards.

  Their reaction was almost comical. For one moment, they froze, gaping at Berent, mouths hanging open. Shouts of alarm then rang out, and the “sheep” transformed into a throng of panicked men, running into and over each other in a frenzied attempt at escape. Yelling frantically, they ignored Cherra an’Nanym, who was standing behind them, screaming at them angrily.

  Finally, she stopped and raised a shaking hand to her temple. She seemed to be straining.

  “I’ll bet she’s trying to bring them back under her control,” Wolfe said thoughtfully. “I assume she will direct them back around her, to protect her.”

  Less than half the men—those who appeared dazed and had not run from the cavern—returned to gather around her and Cherra had them facing away from the weapon that so terrified them.

  “She’s a smart one,” Berent murmured.

  “I will give the bitch that,” Wolfe agreed. “She knows how to cleverly manipulate her people.”

  “Well, that seemed to indicate that they recognize this weapon for what it is,” Berent said lightly. Wolfe chuckled and nodded.

  “At least they know it can hurt them,” Fyrid added. He had no problem remembering the time he had fired the tube; it had almost knocked him off his feet. He gestured toward Cherra. “It looks as if she wants to take a closer look at this weapon.”

  Wolfe agreed, then muttered, “But her courage seems to be lacking. Berent, step away from the shadows again. I don’t know that she got a good look at that damnable thing.”

  Cherra stepped down amid her men, slowly walked forward, then stopped short. She stared long at Berent, then at the tube, and her lips drew back in a snarl.

  “Where did you get that?” Her voice, cracking with emotion, echoed through the cavern. “That belongs to Plyn! Where did you find it?”

  “We took it from the body of your brother when he died,” Wolfe shouted back. “Tell your men to take off those pendants!”

  She looked confused a moment. Her voice trembled slightly as she asked, “You really killed my brother?”

  Wolfe found Cherra’s reaction indicative of her fragile emotional state, and it occurred to the dark-haired man that Cherra had truly thought Mayra was lying about killing her brother.

  “Mayra killed him.” Wolfe narrowed his eyes and glared at her. “She didn’t lie to you at all. It was self-defense.”

  Cherra turned sharply and walked back to stand behind her men.

  “Tell them to remove the pendants they wear,” Wolfe said again.

  Berent swung the tube weapon her way and despite Cherra’s control over them, the men who caught sight of the movement again pushed against each other to move away fro
m the threat of the horrific blue fire. Cherra gaped at Wolfe and Berent; no doubt, she realized that with most of her men gone, there was no longer a human wall between her and the weapon.

  “Pendants, on the floor!” Berent added, his voice quiet and threatening. “Now!”

  Cherra did not speak, but fastened her eyes on the dazed men for a moment. Her silent commands sent arms rising to pull leather straps over their heads as the guards did as Wolfe had commanded.

  “Look at us!” Berent shouted. “See your enemy!”

  The effect was instantaneous. When the remaining guards saw the silver tube Berent still pointed their way, instead of panicking as the others had, several fainted. Swords clattering to the cavern’s stone floor and those still standing ran into the shadows. Suddenly, doorways not previously visible appeared, as terrified men threw them open and escaped through them. As they closed the doors behind them, the exits again vanished into the shadows.

  Berent gingerly patted the weapon with a satisfied grin. He wondered—had Hagan used men from their ranks to show these men what the weapon could do? Or was it simply a case of what imagination could do to a man?

  Cherra stood silently, looking around her. The few who were awakening—surely ashamed as they realized that fainting was far worse than running away—scurried away and followed their companions out through the hidden doors.

  Wolfe shook his head. He almost pitied them, pawns for this woman and an evil, probably unhinged dragon. He looked around the cavern, then back at Cherra. They seemed to be at an impasse.

  “I was fairly certain Mayra would find that a fine diversion,” Berent muttered suddenly. “Wherever she went.” He patted the tube again. “How about some more distracting? What do I get to burn?”

  * * *

  When Mayra and Fauler at last reached the door, both were surprised to see that what should have been a barrier had been left open a provocative crack.