Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

When Kallon awoke, the high morning sun had already baked the cave air. He wheezed, his thirsty tongue flopping. He wanted water. A lot of water. He shifted his weight to climb to his feet.

He felt movement. Only then did he remember the human, and he glanced back to find her lying against his rump. She was hugging his tail, which encircled her like a vine. He flicked his tail tip to budge her loose. She stirred, and then tightened her grip.

“Human,” he said as gently as he could, so he wouldn’t startle her. “Release me.”

“Mm?” She opened an eye.

“Release me.” He curled around to give her shoulder a light bump with his snout. “Going to drink some water. Do not want to drag you.”

“Oh.” She smiled and sat up, and rubbed her palms against her face. “What time is it?”

He unwound his tail from her legs. “The sun is high and very hot. Hotter than usual.”

“I dreamed I was in the tavern kitchen, and the cooking fire caught my dress and was trying to eat me. Where are you going to get some water?”

“My lake.”

She stood. “You have a whole lake all to yourself?”

“Not to myself. Anyone who wants to drink can drink, or swim.”

“Can I?”

Kallon eyed her. “Any
dragon
.” He left her there, and sleepily wandered toward the daylight. “The lake is high above my cave.”

The human followed. She shielded her eyes as she gazed up and over the rock face. “A lake in the mountains? It must be beautiful.”

“It is. It’s my favorite sleeping place, besides the cave, of course.” Kallon stretched his stiff wings. He didn’t usually sleep so late in the morning, and his bones complained. But he felt more awake, and somehow more alive, than usual.

The girl gave an awkward smile. “I don’t suppose I could climb up there.”

“Unlikely,” he said.

“If I had wings like you I could see it.”

“Yes. But you have none.”

“If I had wings like you I could fly just about anywhere I wanted.” She jutted out her hands from her sides, and closed her eyes. “It must be wonderful to fly.”

“Wonderful?” He hadn’t thought of it that way. Natural, of course. Necessary. But wonderful? He pondered. “Feels right and good to taste the sun in my teeth and feel it bubble up like water beneath my scales.”

The girl’s eyes opened. She smiled. A strange look came over her face, and she seemed almost to glow. “I wish I could fly.”

He lowered his snout, studying her. He gave her a quick sniff, searching for the source of her radiance. Apparently, only her face was affected. Did he look like that when he thought of flying? Maybe he used to, but not in a very long time. He probably didn’t look like that when he thought about anything. But to never fly? He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to be stuck to the earth forever. “You’ll never get any closer to the sky,” he said.

“Unless I was a dragon. Or knew one.”

“You know me. I’m a dragon.”

She clasped her hands and squealed, “You would take me with you?”

He couldn’t believe he didn’t see that coming. “Now…I didn’t say that. The lake is a long way up.”

“I don’t mind. I’m not afraid.”

“It’s just a lake. They’re all the same.”

“I haven’t seen a lake in a long time.” She reached for his side. “Do I climb? How do I…?”

He leaned away. “Human, I was only arguing that you do know a dragon. I didn’t mean to invite you. Not now. Not today.”

“But I’m here now, and I might not get another chance.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

She frowned, and her eyes drifted toward the ground. “Oh. I see.”

“So. You understand?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “I understand.”

“It’s not that I don’t want you with me,” he tried to explain.

“Yes, it is.”

Actually, she was right. “But you understand. I like to be alone.”

“Yes, I said I understand.” She crossed her arms.

“Maybe another day—”

“You’re not going to take me flying, ever.” She moved toward the trees. “Thank you for letting me stay with you last night. I won’t bother you any more.”

She disappeared behind a gray elm trunk, and he watched her go. He wanted to fly, and tried to, but his feet were boulders. Even his wings sagged. Somehow, she’d sucked the enjoyment right out of it. He finally grunted. “Very well. Just a short trip.”

Out popped her smiling face from behind the tree. “Really?”

“Hurry, before I change my mind.” He offered his foreleg. “Climb here, then to my shoulders. Mind my scales, I don’t like them pushed the wrong way.” She came around to his leg, and stared at it as though afraid to touch it. “Change your mind?” he asked.

“No.” She pressed one foot to his leg, then hopped up to bring the other beside it, and wobbled atop his knee. Her small hands scrambled for a hold against his neck, twisting his scales.

“Ouch! Human, take care!”

“Sorry.” She pressed against his shoulder, and managed to swing one leg up and over his neck. She felt like a thousand ants across his back, crawling and nipping. His jaw tightened against the reflex to buck her off. Then she settled. Her arms gripped around his neck. “There. I’m ready.”

“Hold tight.”

“I am.”

He fanned out his wings, then launched straight up. The girl gave no sound, but her arms squeezed tighter. He tilted, getting accustomed to her weight, and tried to stay as even as he could while still banking. Fat boulders and strewn rocks grew smaller beneath him. He leveled off and veered for the distant firs.

Of course the mountains looked different from this height, as they always did. From the ground, they were towering peaks. Impassable. But from up here, he could look down at them and soar right over. The rounded mountains were tamed, and only his shadow struggled across the crags.

“Kallon,” said the girl near his ear. “It’s incredible.”

He’d almost forgotten she was there. “Not afraid?”

“No. It’s so beautiful.” Her voice sounded strained, like she was trying to catch her breath.

He slowed. It wasn’t so distracting, after all, having the girl along for the ride. He turned east, deciding to take the long way around.

“Look there!” she said as her weight shifted. “I see a tiny river. That must be why the trees here are so green. And those thick trees in the distance, is that a forest?”

Kallon answered without looking. “Murk Forest.” It bordered the far edge of the human village, but farmers had always kept a safe distance. Even dragons avoided flying above it; the trees inhaled light and exhaled fear. For as long as Kallon could remember, as long as any could remember, Murk Forest had been at the same time part of Leland Province, and yet, somehow distinctly removed.

“So many other mountains are all rock and dead trees,” the girl asked. “Why is that?”

“No rain here for almost two years. Leland Province is turning into a desert.”

“My home village has been dry, too, but it does rain. What happened to your rain?”

“Don’t know. Orman says the magic here is as dry as the meadows. That something is killing the mountains.”

“How sad. It’s like a quilt, cut into squares of all browns and grays. Oh, except over there.” She sucked in a breath. “Kallon, look. There are huge holes everywhere.”

He tilted to look. Usually, he pretended he didn’t see them. Looking now, his gut clenched. “That used to be some of the best hunting land around. My father taught me there how to swoop down onto a boar without making a sound.”

“What happened to it?”

“Let’s get to the lake.”

“Wait,” she said. “I want to see. Can you go lower?”

He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to be reminded of how things used to be, but he dropped to go closer.

He slowed over the first gaping crater. It was a hole that could easily swallow him, and several more dragons, beside. The black dirt had been dredged and left for dead, and had decayed to a pale brown. The hole was so deep, he couldn’t see the bottom.

“Who did this?” the girl asked.

“Humans.”

“But why?”

“For the crystals,” he said. “This land was given to a tribe of Yellows, but not before humans scraped it empty of anzanite.”

“What good is land that’s been destroyed like that?”

He snorted. “No good. No good at all anymore.” He pumped his wings to move on, and pointed. “Over there, they found silphire. That used to be a wide, green valley.”

She made a choked sort of sound, and he took some satisfaction in that. “It’s so ugly,” she said. “Big brown holes all over.”

He swooped up high and turned his back. His thirst drove him faster toward the lake. “Not so many holes here as the land past Orman’s side of the mountain.”

“Who’s Orman? Oh! Look! I see the lake! It’s so calm and sparkly, like a big blue pillow on a green fir bed.” The thrill in her voice made him smile. He circled the lake once, giving her a long, full view. “I hope the humans never come up here for crystals,” she said.

Her words caught him off-guard. Something in the way she spoke about her own people in the third person. He descended, shaking his head. “The mountains already belong to the dragons. No venur would dare challenge that.” He landed gently on a bank of soft grass. “My sleeping spot.”

She scrambled against him, kicking his ribs as she climbed to drop off. She dangled, then let go, and thudded to both feet, but flopped back onto her bottom. “Oof!”

“You hurt?”

“No,” she said, giggling. “Just clumsy.” She stood, and brushed at the back of her dress. “Are you going to swim?” Her cheeks were red, and she panted as though she’d just done the flying, instead of him.

“You look tired. As though you can’t breathe.”

“Not tired. But I was having a hard time getting my breath. I’m better now. It was the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me.”

That glow was in her face again. He liked it. He gave her another sniff.

She grinned, and darted toward the water. “Come on. I want to see you swim.”

Chapter Fourteen

Jastin and Blade trudged across his landlord’s wilted field. The morning heat was already oppressive, making Jastin feel as though he was squashed into Blade’s saddle and held there by a sweltering, invisible hand. “Hotter than blazes,” Jastin mumbled, and yanked at the ties of his leather vest.

He was curling around to stuff it into saddlebag when Blade snorted. “Fizzitmeallenwhum,” said the horse.

Jastin stared. Were hallucinations the first sign of heat stroke? Instead of pushing his vest into a saddlebag, he pulled out a canteen of water. He gulped a few times and then splashed a handful over his face.

He dug the heel of his hand at his eyes. He stared at Blade again. His mount swung his head to look back at him, dark eyes bored. “Thirsty?” Jastin asked, and offered out the canteen. Blade just lowered his head to nose around in a patch of crispy grass.

“No, didn’t think so.” Jastin watched a moment longer anyway, eyes narrowed, until Blade stamped a hoof, as eager to get moving as Jastin was. “Fine, let’s go. Just let me do all the talking from now on, eh?” He reached to replace his canteen.

“Fizzitmeallenwhum,” said Blade.

Jastin launched from the saddle and landed on both feet. “What in the—?” He wrapped his fingers around Blade’s bridle and glared into his face. “I don’t go for any nonsense. No horse of mine is going to blither like an idiot.”

“Uppindesdurance?” Blade’s throat worked like he was going to throw up.

Jastin’s face involuntarily contorted. He backed up. Then he realized he recognized a word. “Durance? Are you asking about Durance?” Then another thought came to him. He recognized the voice. Far from a guttural bass like his mighty stallion should have, if the animal really could speak, instead the voice was soft soprano, and just taking on the huskiness of age.

“Layce Phelcher? Is that you?” Jastin moved closer again and ran his hand over Blade’s snout, searching. “Are you in there?”

“Yes!” Her voice squealed with excitement, which was a pitifully demeaning thing, coming from the mouth of a warrior’s mount.

“What are you doing?”

“Ieeetanowhumpwhumpinnarance!”

Jastin rolled his eyes. “I can’t understand a blasted thing you’re trying to say. Come out and talk or let me get on with my plans.”

“Cannomoutimere. Oweringsforvorham.”

“Vorham? Is he trying to contact me?”

“Oweringsforvorham.”

Jastin growled. “Blasted wizards. Can’t ever use conventional means for anything.” He led Blade to the line of trees where the field met the dying woods, and tied him off. “I’ll be right back,” he said, patting Blade’s rump. Then he reached for his leather vest again and slipped his arms through.

“Oweringsforvorham!” Layce squealed.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Jastin felt around in the seam of his vest for the lump of crystal fastened inside. “Can’t remember how the thing—”

His legs tingled. His head swarmed with trapped bees, buzzing so loud inside his ears that his head wanted to burst. He clamped his free hand to his forehead, and was just about to shout, when all went dark and silent.

The ground felt hard and smooth beneath his boots. When he looked down, he saw himself illuminated in orange light that rose up like a haze from the hefty crystal in the floor. The familiar scent of dank stone slowly eked its way into his consciousness. Linen clothing rustled a few feet away.

“Jastin?” asked Layce’s surprised voice. “What are you doing here?”

His eyes adjusted enough to see the outline of the woman’s robe. He moved toward her. “You said something about Vorham. I thought he needed me.”

Layce snorted and tugged his arm. She led him into the adjoining room, which blinded him with torchlight. He squinted, trying to recognize the place. Purple velvet hung like thick walls, sectioning the room into three areas. One area held a large mound of succulent purple padding. In another, leather books appeared to have reproduced and mutinied the few shelves meant to contain them. Tomes were stacked in crooked piles atop the shelves and beneath the shelves, and the piles were advancing across the floor toward a puny willow desk that huddled among the mess like a defeated prey awaiting when its time, too, would come. Jastin thought he’d been in every room in Riddess castle, from the high towers to the foulest dungeon, but this room he didn’t know.

“Of course you don’t know it, I’ve never had you in my bedroom.”

“You’ve never offered,” he said.

Layce propped a fist on a bony hip. Her black hair was pulled into a high ponytail that lagged aside as she stared at him. Her face was just starting to lose the battle with age, but the soft blue of her robe matched the soft blue of her eyes, and Jastin often found himself staring more at her eyes than her wrinkles. “Why did you come back?” she asked.

“I told you, I heard you mention Vorham, and I thought you needed me to.”

She shook her head, one hand waving. “I was just checking in on his behalf.” Then she clasped her hands together. She smiled. “And it worked, didn’t it? It’s a tricky spell, the connection between amulets is so tenuous.” She reached into the collar of her robe and drew out a chip of green stone tied to a leather thong. “Only the finest wizards can manage it.” Her chin lifted.

Jastin eyed the necklace. “Was I supposed to understand what you were saying?”

“Of course!” She propped both fists on her hips now. “What’s the point of long distance communication if there’s no communicating going on?”

“I couldn’t understand a blasted thing.”

Layce blinked. She straightened her shoulders. “What are you saying?”

Jastin knew he didn’t have to say it aloud.

Her face colored in like a blotchy, red tomato. “I’ll have you know my father taught me everything he knew. The Phelcher name is synonymous with magic. Great magic.” She whirled and marched toward a purple curtain, threw it aside, and tugged a dusty tome from the top of a pile on the floor. “Must be the spell itself.”

“Mm-hmm.” Jastin considered teasing her about it, but he’d left Blade too long already, miles away in that dying province of Leland. He pressed his fingers to the back of his stiff neck and rolled his shoulders. “So, if there’s nothing you need…”

Layce looked up from her book. At some point, she’d pinched a set of wire-rimmed spectacles to the bridge of her nose. Her blue eyes stared so enormously through them that from across the room he could see flecks of silver within the irises. “I did everything right, according to this. I just don’t understand.” She tapped a sinuous finger to her chin.

“It’s not a scrying stone, is it? You haven’t been watching me.” Jastin clenched his jaw at the thought. “I wouldn’t have agreed to any of this if that’s so.” His brother-in-law, Vorham Riddess, had manipulated him into carrying a wistful crystal in his vest, and that was insulting enough. Jastin didn’t trust magic any more than he trusted the creatures who wielded it, dragon or human.

“Well. Thank you very much.” Layce sniffed. She slapped her book closed.

“Is it a scrying stone?” Jastin repeated, his face warming with anger.

She pursed her lips. She stood, leaning toward him, her eyes looming large and ridiculous through her lenses.

“Layce,” he said, trying to sound patient but knowing he didn’t.

“Oh, it’s not a scrying stone, you big oaf.” She plucked her spectacles from her nose and closed them in her fist. “It was just an experiment.”

He didn’t like that thought any more than being watched. “I don’t like surprises. If you’ve got more ‘experiments’ planned, you’d better tell me right now.”

“You take yourself so seriously. I suppose people have told you that.”

“What other crystals have you hidden in my things?” He took a step toward her. He would throttle the information out of her if he had to.

“It isn’t a healthy way to live, being so serious. In all the time I’ve worked here for your brother-in-law, I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you smile.” She looked right at him, with blue, blue eyes, wide and unblinking.

He felt a nudge somewhere in his mind. An impulse suggested itself, tempting him to grab her arm and wrench it behind her. At first he thought it was his own idea, because he’d already considered doing something similar, but the longer he stared into Layce’s eyes, the more he sensed how unnatural it felt. As though she wanted him to do it.

If that were the case, he’d fight it, simply for spite. He held up his hands and turned his head. “I’m not going to hurt you, Layce. I just want an answer.”

“Oh fiddle.” The disappointment in her voice made him look back at her face. Her bottom lip poked out. “I wanted to try out the irritation crystal I’ve been working on. You were supposed to touch me and get a shock.”

“You wanted me to hurt you?”

She huffed. “Of course not. But it was the only suggestion I thought you’d receive.”

Now Jastin really did want to twist her arm behind her back. He clenched his hands, resisting, only to avoid the consequence of her irresponsible magic. “Don’t ever get in my mind again.”

“No, I didn’t quite do it right, anyway. Hmm.” She turned, reaching again for a book. “I’m sure I sequenced the descent right. The spell must have been transcribed incorrectly.”

She’d been toying with him for so long his anger and surprise and confusion were all twisted together into a thick rope that choked his ability to think straight. He just wanted out of there, back to where his body and his mind were under his own control.

But first, he needed an answer. “What other crystals do you have in my things?”

She shook her head, finger drawing over parchment. “I won’t know until I try a different sequence, of course.” She closed the book. “Maybe I’m wearing too many at once. They may be interfering with each other.”

“Layce!”

She startled, and looked over at him. “Oh. Oh, that. There aren’t any more, just the one.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Would I lie to you?”

“I can’t concentrate on what I need to do if I’m going to be worried about who’s watching, or if the trees are going to break into a jig.”

“I’m flattered! Only one wizard has ever been able to get a tree to dance. Though it was more of a sway, really.” Layce reached her arms over her head, closed her eyes, and rocked left to right. “Legendary.”

He didn’t have much choice but to hope she was telling the truth. For a split second, he almost wished he did have magic to find out.

Her eyes popped open. “I could teach you. Theoretically. Though a person checking for honesty needs to be righteously honest himself, so, frankly, you’d be a real challenge.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I could try to explain, but it would be like trying to tell a kutterbug that it’s yellow, not brown. First, the kutterbug has to be taught what the color yellow is.”

“Now you’re calling me a bug?”

She shrugged, and inspected the ceiling.

“I make no excuses for what I do, or why I do it. I know what I am. That’s more honesty than a lot of people can handle.”

“Of course it is.” Her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling.

Jastin groaned. Here he was, justifying himself to this loony wizard. She’d gotten him again, somehow. Time to cut his losses and get back to business. He turned once more from her doorway.

“You remember how to use the wistful crystal?” she called.

He stopped himself from snarling, but he did snap, “I’m not a child!”

When she didn’t reply, he considered it a small victory. He stepped into the dark place off her bedroom and moved closer to the smooth lump of orange, glowing stone on the floor. “Just curious, but why did I come back to this room, instead of the place in the woods where you broke off the shard for me?”

She appeared in the doorway. “I had the origin stone dug up and brought here. The shard returns to wherever the origin stone is, and I felt safer guarding it.” She looked down at her fingernails. “Not that I’m trustworthy, or anything.”

“It’s nothing personal.”

“No, I know. Once you start trusting people, you might have to believe they could be sincere, which gives them actual merit. Soon, you’d have to completely rethink the color yellow.”

“I’ve had enough lecturing for one day, thanks.”

“So go on. You must be worried about your mare.”

“He’s a stallion.”

“Whatever.”

Jastin looked down at the orange stone and cringed. He could feel Layce smiling at him, but he wasn’t amused. “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you?”

She shuffled closer. “Oh, yeah.”

“Fine. I don’t remember how to use the crystal.” He refused to be embarrassed. He wouldn’t let her have that.

“Just climb on, it’s easy. Well, not as easy as returning. The shard does most of the work then, because it always wants to come back home, so to speak.”

He stepped onto the stone. “Last time we went over this, I don’t believe you mentioned the headache that tried to split my brain.”

“Didn’t I?” she blinked blue eyes and smiled.

“If Vorham asks, this never happened.”