Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) (17 page)

He joined Lorana at the fire. “I have a problem with using poisoned weapons.”

Lorana scowled. “For generations the wizards have tortured any captured clansmen, women, and children. They had sold them to be used in ways that are vile. Why would I not want to see this end? Why don’t you see the punishment is just?”

Arton drew a deep breath. “Not all the wizards are evil. Mecador and his cronies, including his son, deserve death. But the other men, friends of my mentor, are kind men. Though my mentor was saddened by his failure to father a true son, he raised me with love and hope. His friends supported me for the council seat.”

Lorana rose and paced around the fire. “Not all the wizards will die from the poisoning. I’ve treated five of them for mild thorn poisonings. There may be others who have survived a small dose of the poison. They won’t die either.”

Arton rose. “I must think.” He grabbed a water flask and walked away. How could he sanction the killing of men who had raised and trained him? They weren’t the ones Dragon had shown him. Those evils had happened in the past.

He wandered from the camp not sure where he headed. His thoughts filled with possibilities. Which of the wizards had immunity to the poison? Would knowing make a difference in how he felt?

He thought of the things he remembered. Years ago when he was young, one of the hareem women had fought the wizard who was her master. She had been nailed to the hareem gate until she died.

He sank to the ground. A rare event, but one showing the shards of cruelty in the wizards. Lorana had been right.

Above him a dark shadow appeared. Dragon landed on the ground. Arton wished he had some of the cordial so he and Dragon could talk. The animal butted Arton’s back. He rose and allowed the dragon to urge him toward the camp. He wasn’t sure what he would say to Lorana. Admitting she was right would be hard.

* * *

The moment Dragon was sure Arton walked toward the camp, he flapped his wings and soon soared. He wished he could speak to the young man as easily as he and Lorana spoke. He remained above Arton to make sure the stubborn young man continued to the place where Lorana waited. Though she understood Arton’s reluctance, Dragon didn’t. The need to drive the wizards from the citadel was vital. Disturbed by Arton’s slow pace, Dragon swooped low and urged the young man into a loping stride.

Once Arton stumbled into camp and sank to the ground near the fire, Dragon landed. He paused at the waterfall to drink and then joined his friends.
‘Give him the cordial. I must bond him to our cause.’

‘Is that wise?’
Lorana asked.
‘He barely recovered from the last dose.’

‘We must be sure he is with us.’

Lorana sat beside Dragon.
‘Let me be the bridge.’

Dragon closed his eyes.
‘We can try that method.’

Lorana reached for Arton. She touched his hand. “Dragon wants to speak to you.”

“I hear you. Can Dragon hear me?”

‘I can. I want to show you more.’
Dragon began with the day he hatched. He allowed Arton to see the happiness of the people who lived in the citadel. He showed glimpses of his growing years. He felt joy in remembering his first attempts at flight and the sprawling falls. Dragon showed his pleasure when he learned his mother carried a red and a blue egg. When hatched they would become his companions.

When the wizards came, his family retreated to the cave system. The wizards followed and wreaked havoc, destroying dragons and people as they moved closer to the cavern. His mother and his chance for companions had died during the invasion. Dragon had listened to the deaths of those who had remained to allow the strongest to survive.

‘Alone. Forever alone. No red or blue to teach, guide and train.’
Though he’d wanted to follow them into death, the oldest yellow had sent him into the hibernating sleep.

Dragon heard gut wrenching sobs from Arton.
‘The past can’t be changed. The present can. Go to your blankets. In the morning wake with the fire to see changes occur.’

‘I’m so sorry.’

‘You were not there. You are not one of them. Remember this. Do not drag the evilness of the invaders into your dreams. Keep hope in your heart.’

Dragon settled his head between his paws. With good fortune, Arton would wake and be committed to driving the wizards away.

The first light of dawn roused him. After a meal of meat laced with the thorns and berries Dragon soared into the sky. He searched for the clansmen he had spotted yesterday and saw they still traveled toward Lorana and Arton.

* * *

Cregan added several pair of socks to his carry pack. He was ready for the trek into the hills to find Arton and the reward. He pulled a small ceramic bottle of fyrethorn poison he’d stolen from the large jug the wizard sold to the traders. With care, he dipped the blade of his spare knife into the vial to coat the blade. After the liquid dried he applied a second coat.

Cregan smiled. He leaned back in his chair and watched an imagined scene unfold.

He led the wizards and guards to the area where the landslide had nearly taken his life. He heard murmurs about his lucky escape from the others.

“Belongs on the council.”

“His luck will bring only good.”

They didn’t say the words he wanted to hear, how he would make a better chief wizard than his father.

Arton and Lorana stepped from the shelter of the trees. Cregan raised the wands he’d kept hidden behind his back and revealed six powered stones. Not giving his rival a chance to draw a wand Cregan sent power to stun Arton.

“Tell me how you created the brilliant yellow light.” He moved closer so only he could hear the answer. The moment he had the secret, he would use the power of the wands to kill the other man.

Mecador strode toward Lorana.

“She’s mine to use as I wish,” Cregan shouted. “Touch her and you’re dead.”

Mecador laughed. He pushed the young woman to the ground and reached for his wand. Cregan acted. He stunned his father. With slow steps he reached the older man and pricked him with the knife.

Mecador convulsed. Cregan grabbed Lorana. “You’re mine now. You will brew poison and cordial for my glory. Soon we will rule the Island of Fyre and more.”

The vision faded. Cregan fastened the pack to his back. He left his suite to join the wizards and guards. He hid a smile when he saw Mecador also had a pack strapped to his back.

The chief wizard raised his hand. “We leave here to find and destroy the traitor. With him we will find my son’s reward. We will take her prisoner. Cregan will duel with Arton and win his seat on the council. When that happens I will break this woman who tried to escape her ordained role.” He turned and reached the gate.

Cregan took the rear position. Two guards moved ahead of the leader to check the trail for dangerous and poisonous creatures. For that day and two more, they marched north until the sun moved far to the west before they made camp.

While the guards erected tents and prepared a meal, Cregan sat beside Mecador. “We’ve traveled three days and have covered much distance. In a few more days we will reach the landslide area. Should we use our wands to find Arton and Lorana? We should make sure we have their direction. I believe, rather than directly north, I also traveled a bit to the east.”

Mecador nodded. “Your suggestion has merit. You and I can search. I will combine our powers to find both.”

Cregan kept his anger inside. He wanted to be the one to make the meld. He pulled one of his wands free. He formed a picture of Arton and sent power into his wand. Mecador did the same. Cregan nearly lost control. “What?” he shouted. The wand pointed west and south. Anger roiled.

Mecador’s wand wavered and fire flashed from the stone. Cregan knew he must break the meld before the returning energy harmed either of them. Mecador’s stone died. His face reddened and then turned purple.

“Where is he going? What does he plan?” Cregan asked.

Mecador drew a second wand. “Hold him while I seek Lorana.”

Some of Cregan’s tension melted. Anger still bubbled beneath the surface. He fought to keep his wavering wand tuned to Arton. From the corner of his eye, he saw his father turn to face west and south.

Mecador growled. “I fear they’re headed to the oasis. Arton, Lorana, and also their companion I can’t identify. Extend the scope of your search.”

Cregan did as his father ordered. He tried to see who the third person might be. “Do you think he’s a clansman?”

Mecador shrugged. “I have no way to tell.”

“What will we do now?”

“We must retrace our steps. I will send two of the guards ahead for desert supplies and more burden beasts. We will join them on the oasis road. We’ll find the traitors and their allies.

Cregan nodded. “We will succeed.” He hid a smile. Finally he would gain what he wanted.

Chapter Eleven

As she shared Dragon’s loneliness and Arton’s guilt, tears streamed down Lorana’s face. Arton rose and staggered to his blanket. Couldn’t he see the fault wasn’t his? He hadn’t been alive when the events he’d seen had occurred.

‘Lorana, no tears for the past. What happened cannot be changed. I am no longer alone. I have you and Arton.’

She wiped her eyes.
‘I’ll try, but part of my tears were for myself. Until you spoke to me, even with all the women who lived in the hareem, I was alone.’

‘As was Arton. Though one wizard adopted him and raised him, he was always the alien in their midst.’

She nodded.
‘You’re right. When he was ill with the fyrethorn poison, his only visitors were Cregan and Mecador. They came to gloat.’

‘Go to him. His dreams will fill with images of the scenes I showed him and with his guilt over things he’s done when unaware of his mastery of the fyrestones. He also feels lost, as he is the only wizard who can use the colors other than white.’

She picked up her blanket and settled beside Arton. He rolled on his side and touched her hand. “Lorana.”

“Sleep now.”

Though she saw exhaustion in his eyes and in the lines of his face, he shook his head. “I can’t. Do you really think those times were as bad as Dragon showed us?”

“Dragon can’t lie when we meet in our thoughts.”

His stroking stilled. “Do you believe in what he wants to do? Why do you stay here and want to start a rebellion?”

“Though I didn’t live here during the days he showed us, I’ve seen the cruelty of those men. Before my father sold me to the slavers I lived with dragons. I spoke to them. I cried when my father had ones killed for their hides. My father gained wealth and power with the sales of dragon hides. The slavers carried me here. Sometimes wizards traveled on the ships. When I was sold there were two. One was Mecador and the other died soon after the ship reached the citadel.”

“Are the clans oppressed?”

She brushed her lips over his cheek. “You’ve been to a gathering. You’ve seen men and women taken from the clans. Some are sold. Others are used by the wizards.”

Arton nodded. “I was responsible for four slaves who were sold to the traders. I am one of the evil ones.”

She moved closer until her body touched his. “You knew no better. Since you were a small child, you were raised to believe having and selling slaves was right.”

He put his arm around her and anchored her to his side. “Does that excuse me?”

“You have a chance to make things right.” She rested her head on his chest. “About the white fyrestones. Can they do more than harm others?”

He nodded. “I think to a degree they can do all you’ve seen the colored stones achieve, but the results aren’t as drastic. Controlling the width of the ray is easier, too.”

“Like when Cregan used his wand to keep you alive but couldn’t rid your body of the poison.”

“Just like that. The yellow, orange, and red have greater power.”

“And you appear to be the only one who can use them.”

“What can I do to right my wrong actions in the past? I need to atone.” He brushed his lips over hers.

She responded to the kiss and drew a deep breath. “We’ll meet with the clans and unite them against the wizards. In the morning Dragon will scout. When he returns we’ll know when we’ll meet with men of the clans.”

Once again their lips met. She stroked his back and felt the tension vanish from his body. His breathing slowed and he slept.

In the morning after breaking their fast, they gathered their packs and left. They walked until late afternoon and found a place where rocks provided shelter. Arton used the white wand to clear pests away and the orange to start a fire. She searched her pack for dried food to prepare a meal When she looked around, Arton had vanished.

Where had he gone? She hoped he hadn’t changed his mind. His emotions had bounced lately. The connection between them had convinced her he believed in what she and Dragon planned. Why would he want to return to the wizards? Those men had raised him, but he had changed, hadn’t he? To still her runaway thoughts, she paced around the fire. Dragon had shown him what the evil wizards had done.