Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) (18 page)

Chapter Thirty-Six

Kallon circled for a while over Mount Gore, staring down at the arena, trying to figure out what he was going to say. If he demanded Orman and Riza be released, he would be laughed off the mountain. If he argued in their defense, he might cause them to appear guilty, and only feed the flames already lapping at their withers. Frankly, he didn’t know what he was going to do, short of sneaking into Blackclaw’s manor and stealing them both. How he could manage that was beyond him.

The arena below seemed particularly active. The place was dormant between council meetings, wasn’t it? Yet, he could see the crawling spines of several hues of dragons. From this height they appeared as patches of color, writhing like rainbow larvae in the core of a rotting apple. Was it time for a council meeting? He veered off to land inconspicuously behind the arena.

Hearing voices, he ducked quickly behind the branches of a group of firs. He peered out from behind his cover.

There stood Blackclaw himself, speaking quietly to a White, who nodded and bowed low. Was this his chance to approach? He was still trying to make up his mind when the White shifted aside. Standing between Blackclaw and the White was a human. Armitage.

The urge to charge and trample the human took Kallon’s breath. He gripped a branch and willed himself to stay put. What could the three of them possibly be discussing? Why did Armitage hold a pouch that bore the crest of Mount Gore Manor?

Then Blackclaw snorted and stalked off, his ribs disturbing the low branches of the firs to scatter needles in a grassy shower. Whitetail followed, leaving Armitage alone.

Kallon skulked toward the human, trying to take him by surprise, but Armitage swung to face him, his hand on his sword, before Kallon even got close enough to breathe hot air on his ugly face.

“Well, well,” Armitage said, and relaxed his grip on the sword handle. “You do have a gift for entering in the middle of a show.”

“What show? What business do you have with Blackclaw?”

Armitage flipped the pouch in his hand, and caught it by the strings with a satisfied smile. “I can only guess why you’re here, Red. Seeing as how the girl is on the mountain, it only follows that you would be hanging around, bemoaning your need to play hero again.”

“What do you know of Riza?”

“I know this time, you’re too late.”

Kallon’s legs tensed.

“Oh, calm down,” said Armitage, and held up a hand. “The girl is my responsibility now, so you don’t have to worry about her. That should make you happy.”

A sound erupted in Kallon’s throat and growled through his words. “You will tell me what you know of Riza.” He shifted a step closer.

“I know she didn’t come cheap.” Armitage slid his money pouch into a hidden pocket in his vest. “It took nearly half my usual payment to free her. Whatever your plans, you needn’t pursue them. Riza will be coming home with me.”

It took all of Kallon’s effort not to engulf the man in flames. “She won’t want to go with you.”

“No?” Armitage took a step closer this time. “Whom do you think she would rather go home with, then, you?” He laughed. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing in your eyes. Are you jealous?”

“I know her better than you. She was cast out by your kind. Made to suffer. All for the simple act of accepting a friend by what she sees in his soul, regardless of the hide he is wrapped in.”

He sneered. “I think you’re more than jealous. I think you love her. I’m going to be sick.”

“What do you know of love, human?” Kallon roared, coating the man with haze.

“What I know is the deeper you feel it, the more painful your grief when it’s stolen! I hope against rational thinking that you are one creature among your kind that can feel love, Red. I hope you love her, and that you spend the rest of your days grieving for her while she forgets you and bears my children!”

Kallon lunged, his vision stained red. He swung his claws, but felt only air. Suddenly, a stab of pain cleared his senses. He froze. The tip of the human’s sword was wedged between the scales of his throat.

“Kill me, and she will never see the light of day again,” said Armitage. “I am her freedom now. Not you.”

Kallon couldn’t catch his breath. He couldn’t control his frenzied heartbeat. He tried to think of Riza. This human knew more about her condition than Kallon, and perhaps the man had made a deal for her freedom. Could he risk destroying that? Kallon stared into the man’s face and quietly despised him.

“You, on the other hand, are quite expendable,” Armitage continued. He shifted his grip on the end of his sword, eyes flashing with death.

Behind them, a bleat rang out from arena. Neither of them moved. It bleated again. It was the ceremony horn, calling for the assembly.

Jastin cursed. “How you manage it I don’t know!” His glare burned into Kallon’s eyes. Kallon returned the bitter stare. “Soon your invisible guardian, or whatever it is that keeps you alive, will misstep.” He lowered the blade. “This sword will be your destroyer. On my oath.”

“Fate will take me when it will. If your weapon is the tool, so be it.” Kallon breathed a coil of smoke into the man’s face that slithered around his throat and dissipated. “But not today, human.”

Armitage stabbed his sword into its sheath. “Tonight the woman will be mine, dragon! I will have her, not you!” He disappeared into the foliage.

Kallon gripped the earth to stop shaking. He didn’t even know where his words had come from. He didn’t believe in fate! He didn’t believe in magic, or invisible guardians, or in the place beyond the limits of sky where dead dragons lived on.

Warmth against his collarbone drew his eyes downward. His linking stone glowed so brightly that it cast a white sheen to the ground, even in the light of pale dusk. He wrapped his clawed digits around the shimmering crystal, and somehow, he felt less alone.

A snort caught his attention. He slid back into the trees to hide.

“Nothing but more of the same rhetoric, I am convinced.” Kallon peered out to find a Blue speaking to a Gray. “I do not even know why I waste my time coming. There is talk, but no action!”

The Gray replied. “I will try to speak with Blackclaw during the opening ceremonies. If he does not address our concerns, I will make the motion.” The Gray’s wings scraped past the branches of Kallon’s cover. “Hurry, they have already sounded the horn.”

Kallon lost sight of the pair. Their footfalls grew softer and softer until they were gone.

Kallon used to feel so proud watching his father during the opening ceremonies on the night before each council meeting. His father would carry in the colors of the tribe and place them in the coveted center of the presentation stand. Banners of every tribe would line up in brilliant, fluttering array, and for as long as memory served them all, red had been the prominent leader. But not tonight. Tonight, the presentation stand would hold black in its center.

Tonight! Of course! The manor would be deserted. No dragon on Mount Gore was allowed to miss opening ceremonies. At least, that’s the way it used to be. Kallon had no idea where Riza and Orman were being kept, but he’d lived there, once. If he snuck in, he ought to remember his way around.

He eased out of the mass of trees and carefully picked his way past the arena toward the manor. When darkness finally fell, he would slip inside. He hoped more than anything that he would find Orman and Riza before Armitage had a chance to touch her.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The girl comes with me.” The voice sounded into the darkness from the other side of the door like the low peal of a massive bell.

“Orman?” Riza reached for the wizard and clung to his arm.

“Now,” said the voice. A grind of metal slid open the grate on the door. Torchlight spilled in through the slats to cast flickering rectangles of yellow-orange to the floor.

“Orman, I’m afraid,” she whispered. She felt the familiar touch of wrinkled fingers on her hands. Were they trembling?

“Come with me now and you will not be harmed.” The voice sounded oddly patient. Not the usual snarl of the voice that brought food. She looked toward the door.

“Maybe Kallon is here,” she said to Orman. “Maybe they’re going to take me to him.”

“Just remember what I told you. Dignity. You keep your chin high,” said Orman. He peeled her fingers from his arm and nudged her toward the door.

She crawled on stiff hands and knees. If she were nearing freedom, why did her heart grow heavier the closer she drew? She kept moving, but her weary arms and legs propelled her slowly, resisting. Then the torchlight bathed her face and stung her eyes.

“Open the door.” She saw the movement of a white jaw through the grate as the voice spilled in again.

She managed to climb to her feet, and pressed herself against the door. It wouldn’t budge. “I can’t.”

“Come now,” wagged the jaw. “Give a push.”

She pushed. She grunted. The door gave by an inch and stuck fast again. “I can’t!”

“Very well. Give another shove, and I will help you.”

If the white dragon on the other side of the door wanted to help so badly, why didn’t he just do it himself? She was about to ask just that, when a quick flash of green startled her. The bitter taste of sulfur stung her mouth.

“Well? Go on,” urged the jaw.

She sighed and pressed her palms to the door. The door gave way and slammed to the floor in a thud that rocked the walls. Granite dust billowed.

“There, you see?” The white dragon grinned, his paw waving at the filtering dust. “No need to look so frightened. I am taking you to a friend.”

Riza sucked in a breath. “He came? He’s here?”

“He is anxious to see you, and we are anxious to be rid of you.” An eyelid as big as her fist wrinkled up in a wink. “Watch your step. We must be quiet.”

Her strength redoubled at the thought of seeing Kallon again. She scrambled over the door and followed the dragon. “What about Orman?” she asked. “Why isn’t he coming with us?”

“The wizard was not negotiated.”

“Not negotiated? Why not?” Why wouldn’t Kallon have tried to free Orman, too? The dragon stopped and held up a paw in warning. She stopped, too.

The dragon peered around the corner at a crossing hallway. “It is safe. Hurry now. All dragon eyes should be in the arena, watching the opening ceremonies. It is growing dark, but your friend will guide you.”

“Guide me where? Can’t I take Orman, too? Where am I going?”

The dragon smiled, and patted a scaly palm on top of her head. “So many questions. Such a poor time to ask them. Rush now. Turn left, then right and look for a torch in the trees to the east. Go.”

“But I—”

“Go, girl!”

She darted into the hallway. She didn’t want to leave Orman, but perhaps Kallon had a plan, and knew what he was doing. Perhaps two prisoners at once were too much to ask. Poor Orman. She hoped he would be released soon, too.

She paused at the next hallway convergence. Left, then right. She inched around the corner to the right and found the exit, looming like the open mouth of a hungry beast. She couldn’t see the arena from this distance, but she could hear it. The thrum of distant voices filtered through the trees and carried fear to her feet.

She glanced back from where she came. The white dragon trailed behind. He nodded and flicked his paws, shooing her toward the night. “Thank you,” she called quietly.

He stopped. “Do not thank me. Just go.”

She ran. Outside, she stumbled on weak legs and nearly fell. How long had she been cramped in that dank prison? One day? Two? Maybe more. Time had lost its meaning in the blackness.

She veered for the trees, searching for the promised torch to guide her. Just as she reached the branches of the tree line, she heard the voice of the white dragon again. This time, he shouted. “The human girl has escaped!”

Did she hear that right? She pushed away the limbs blocking her view and stared at the dragon some yards away on the top step. He spotted her. He shooed her again toward the trees, then cupped his paws around his mouth. “She has escaped!”

Where was Kallon? Where was the torchlight that was supposed to lead her to him? She didn’t know, and didn’t understand what was happening. But when a rush of angry voices surged toward her, she knew enough to run. She dove into the forest.

Branches clawed her face. Needles stung her arms and calves. Her bare feet tromped hard on sticks and pebbles. She was almost grateful that her fear numbed the pain, but it did nothing for her stamina. Her body gave up before her mind was ready, and she dropped to her knees, her breath raspy. She clutched at the pain in her ribs.

Movement rustled behind her. “Kallon?” she whispered. No response. A stick snapped, and she whirled. “Who’s there?”

A hand clamped over her mouth. She was crushed against a chest and ribs, and dragged backward across scraping underbrush. “What are you doing? You were told east! East, not west,” said a harsh voice in her ear. She recognized it, its whisper was no disguise. Jastin Armitage.

She clawed at the gloved hand over her mouth and tried to kick backward. When she couldn’t find his legs with her feet, she clamped her teeth on whatever she could grip. “Holy—!” he wheezed. His hand dropped. Before she could suck in a breath to scream, the hand was back, choking her. A stampede of heavy feet closed in.

She was lifted. Her captor threw himself against a mound of boulders, pulling her with him. They fell onto the floor of a small cavern, and she landed on top of him with a grunt. Behind them, rumbling footfalls shook the ground and rushed past the slim opening of their hiding place.

He removed his hand from her mouth. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “Scream now.”

Oooo, how she burned. She’d rather be trampled than to have to look at him. She tore away and flung herself at the fissure opening. He cursed. His hands latched around her ankles. She fell hard on her face and saw sparkles. When she felt his hands on her shoulders, she sprang to action again, kicking and clawing at him. He pulled her to her feet anyway, and slapped her to the rock wall.

“Stop fighting me,” he snarled. “I’m trying to help you!”

“I don’t want your help! Where’s Kallon? What have you done to him?”

“I’ve done nothing to him. He isn’t coming for you.”

“Yes, he is! He said he would!”

“Get it through your head, woman. I’m your hero. I always have been.” He pressed her arms above her head, and his voice came near to her mouth. “Your dragon is a coward.”

“I never asked for a hero. Only a friend.” Something stabbed her ribs. She writhed, trying to pull from his grasp. “You’re hurting me.”

“Where were they keeping you? You stink like a sewer. It’s going to take a month of baths to get the stench out of your hair.”

“If it means you’ll stay away from me, I’ll be happy to never bathe again.”

He released her. “There are thirty dragons out there searching for you right now. Come dawn, there will be more. They will all want to find you, and without me, they will. Hate me if you want—”

“Fine. I will,” she snapped.

He moved away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Hate me tomorrow, but tonight let me help you.” He sounded so weary. She’d have never guessed the man was capable of being tired. And he sounded hurt. She’d have never guessed he was capable of that, either.

She wanted to see his face. She slipped her hand into her pocket, and her light crystal ignited. Sparkles lifted toward the low ceiling of the hiding place and cast yellow light over his hunched shoulders and surprised eyes. “How are you doing that?” he asked.

“Orman taught me.” She stepped closer and studied him. He did look weary. Even beaten. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “Fine. For tonight I’ll let you help me, if you tell me where Kallon is.”

He wrapped thick fingers around her hand and turned to lead her outside. “That light trick is handy, but douse it a little, will you?”

She held her ground. “Jastin. Where’s Kallon?”

When he tugged her, she had to shuffle her feet to keep from falling over. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know where he is.”

* * *

Kallon peered around from the corner of the manor. He’d been crouched, listening for the fall of dragon steps, for what seemed hours. In, out, up the stairs, down the stairs, herds of feet trounced the ground until he thought the ceremonies were never going to start. Twice, he’d circled in back to the place where the manor and mountain became one. By design, none of the windows were large enough to climb through. All dragons had to enter through the arch. He’d considered climbing up the windows, though, and perching on top.

It was on his second circle that he’d heard a shout. He’d scrambled back around to the front of the manor. Now, peering around the corner, he saw herds of dragons split off from the entrance to the arena and rush into the surrounding trees. Snorting dragons stomped past without seeing him. Claws kicked fir needles into the air in a chaotic blur. The earth shook. Then all was quiet.

His chance had presented itself. He rushed up the granite steps of the manor and ducked inside. He pressed against a far wall, whisking his tail in to wrap it around his feet. Riza’s hazy scent found his nostrils. He barely recognized it, it was so infused with the sour tones of human waste. He must be close.

The hall was clear. He inched his way forward. He reached the doorway of the Great Room and peeked in. The sloping curve of the high ceiling, detailed paintings of dragon battles on the stone walls, the plush, woven flooring beneath his feet; all were reminders of the time when this place was his home. Great feasts and celebrations had been held here. Suddenly, his memory echoed with his father’s laugh that ricocheted like thunder off the walls, drowning out the chatter of dining guests. The sound was so convincing, he had to look around himself to make sure he hadn’t really heard it.

He moved on, shaken. He was afraid to go further for fear of what other memories might surface, but he willed himself to continue. He would find Riza and Orman and steal them away to safety. His heavy footfalls were silent against the cushioned floor.

“Kallon!”

He drew up. “Orman?” he asked, eyes searching left to right for a trace of the man.

Orman emerged from the shadows of a long hallway, arms outstretched. His beard, brown with filth, spread stains across his scrawny chest. He limped. When he reached Kallon, he collapsed against Kallon’s ribs.

“Where’s Riza?” Kallon turned toward the dark hall, expecting to see her green eyes and smiling face. He didn’t.

“Gone,” said Orman. “Whitetail took her, left the door open.”

“Left the door open? He took Riza and left the door open?”

“Yes. Yes. Go, we must get out of here.” Orman pushed off from Kallon and limped past. “Hurry. I’ve a feeling—”

“He will be back?” finished a voice for Orman. Kallon spun around. He stared into the face of Fane Whitetail.