Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) (18 page)

Had Arton left her to find the clansmen?
A foolish move.
When they saw he was a wizard and alone they would attack.

“Come and help me,” Arton called.

Lorana climbed the rocks and saw him dragging a shaggy bovine calf. She reached him and helped butcher the animal. “Why did you hunt?”

“Dragon will need to feed before we meet these men from the clans. I think he will enjoy food from a different animal.”

“You are right.” They finished butchering and carried the meat to the camp. To a good part of the kill she added berries and thorns. She hung a roast over the fire for them.

Just after sunset Dragon landed. Arton and Lorana removed the carrying saddle and the deerskin packs.

‘The clansmen will arrive tomorrow. I will lead them to you. Stay here. There’s a good source of water here. This is a fine place to wait.’

‘We must plan how to approach them,’
Lorana said.
‘I fear they will attack Arton.’

‘I will stop them. In the morning you and Arton should hunt. Offering food is a way to show you are friends.’

Lorana turned to Arton. “Dragon says we should hunt. Do you think the bovines will remain where you saw them?”

He nodded. “The grazing was good. They didn’t run when I killed the calf. What will Dragon do?”

“He will lead the clansmen here.” She prayed the meeting would be successful.

* * *

Dragon left his friends preparing for the arrival of the clansmen. His last feeding had been wonderful. Though the calf had just begun to pack on weight the taste and aroma of the bovine flesh had satisfied a need and triggered memories of the days when he’d lived with his men and women. The herds had been kept for the dragons.

He flapped his wings and soared toward the clansmen. Since he was a dragon he was convinced they would listen.

He spotted the group of men around a fire and hovered just out of sight. They were far kin to the dragon riders of his birth time. Though their thoughts weren’t as clear as Lorana’s, he took heart. They believed in dragons. He heard the proof.

“Dragon bless,” one of the men said after another sneezed.

“By the dragon, I pray we find that herd of wild bovines,” a second man said.

“Pray there will be calves to take to the clan,” a third added.

How would they react when they saw him? Soon he would know. He waited until they were ready to leave the camp. Once they mounted on their beasts, he flew low enough for them to see him. Their steeds grew restive and the men fought for control. Awe filled their thoughts.

‘Follow me.’
He flew close enough for them to be sure he was a dragon and not some illusion. He turned and headed toward the place where Lorana and Arton had camped. If all went as he’d planned these men would agree to fight against the wizards.

* * *

Cregan stared at the guards leading burden beasts and wondered how much longer they must travel before they reached the road leading to the oasis. Mecador had led them cross country and the going had been rough. They had been nearly four days traveling through forest and rocky slopes. Would there be a clan at the oasis or would they find the fugitives alone? He turned to his father. The older man walked a few steps ahead. “How much time will pass before we reach the oasis road?”

“Two or three days, then five or so to the oasis.”

“Do you think we will find Arton and Lorana there?”

“We must.”

Cregan sighed. “They could travel deeper into the desert.”

“They could, but would they risk their lives? They are on foot and without knowing where the water holes are located, they would perish.”

“Unless their companion is desert born.” Cregan tried to find a reason why they couldn’t identify the mysterious other. “Who is he?”

“We will learn.” Mecador patted Cregan’s shoulder. “You worry too much. Wizards are greater than the men of the desert. The clansmen are meat for our wands.”

Cregan hoped his father spoke true. “What do you plan?”

“Arton and Lorana must live and face a reckoning for their traitorous behavior. Their companion must die.”

“Who could he be?”

“Perhaps one of those who failed his challenge and never returned from his time of exile.”

Was his father right? Cregan hand no way of knowing.”

Mecador waved to the other wizards. “This I say. We will find the ones who defy us.” He held up his wand. His voice boomed.

The wizards waved their arms. Their cheers were loud. The guards wore sullen expressions.

Cregan knew he must put his plans into effect soon. Why didn’t his father realize most of the guards were former clansmen. Though the chief wizard had left most of those guards at the citadel, problems could occur. He fingered the hilt of his spare knife. Mecador would die soon.

A grin spread across his face. Few would weep when Mecador died. Cregan nodded. On that day he would rule the wizards. He moved to the head of the line and led the men who would be his to rule.

* * *

Lorana and Arton climbed the rocks. He scouted ahead. A short time later they reached the meadow. He turned to signal her. She crept to his side and prepared her sling. He pointed to the grazing bovines. Lorana selected a young bull. She used one of the metal pellets, and with her wrist flung the metal ball. She shot once and then a second time. The bull fell. At the same time Arton flung a knife and hit a second animal. He ran to slit the throats of the beasts they felled.

Before long, Arton slit the abdomens and gutted the first beast while Lorana tended to the second. Before long they butchered both bovines. Lorana helped remove the skins of the beasts while Arton hurried into the stand of trees to cut some saplings. Lorana gathered the entrails and organs in one hide and the meat went into the other. Dragon would delight in the organ meat. Once both hides were wrapped, they completed the travois to carry their spoils to camp. They took turns pulling the load over the grass and rocks.

She wished Dragon had been there to carry the meat to camp. Finally they eased the travois over the rocks and down to the flat area of the camp. She dragged the hide carrying the organs to a separate place and added berries and thorns.

Lorana found a clean set of clothes. She ran to the pool beneath the waterfall to wash herself and her bloody garments. When she finished, she relieved Arton at the fire where he’d spitted several haunches for their expected guests. She selected other cuts and began the process of smoking them. When Arton returned to her side, he sat on the grass and pulled a wand from his belt sheath.

Lorana watched the tip glow. “What are you doing?”

“Checking on the wizards.” He closed his eyes. Soon the white stone lost its glow. He lowered the power of the wand. “There are nine wizards in the party and six guards. Two have been sent back to the citadel. They know we’ve left the hills. The group travels toward the oasis road.”

“How far must they travel?”

He shrugged. “I think someone said maybe seven or eight days.”

“I hope we’ll have time to plan our strategy.” Dragon called her name. She listened and turned to Arton. “Dragon is on the way. The clansmen are near. Put your wand away.”

Arton touched her hand. “Wand or not won’t matter. By my clothes they will know what I am.”

She turned to face him. “What you were, but not who you are now. Dragon will vouch for you. He hears their voices and words. They are kin to the ancient dragon riders.”

Thundering sounds filled the air. Five men riding beasts like the burden animals the wizards used appeared. Dragon landed. Lorana clasped Arton’s hand.

“We must join Dragon,” she said. “We must show them we are united.”

The men halted their beasts. They walked to Dragon and bowed. One of the men saw Arton. He raised a spear.

"No.” Lorana stepped in front of Arton. “He is a wizard and was trained by them. He has parted from their beliefs and will help drive these evil men from our land.”

All but one of the men lowered their weapons. The one who hadn’t obeyed held an arrow to his bow.

‘No!’

Lorana wanted to hold her hands over her ears. Her head ached. The man lowered the bow and sheathed the arrow.

‘This man is Arton and he is the same as a rider of the blue. Lorana is like a red rider. They have my protection.’

The men dismounted and knelt. One looked up. “I am Temerol, leader of the yellow clan. If you think we can win, we will join you. A call has been sent for a dispersal of the clans. No man, woman or child will go to the spring gathering.”

Lorana faced them. “I believe we can win. To that end I have brewed a poison for your weapons.”

Temerol laughed. “We would like that.”

“Come and eat. Then we will make our plans.”

The tall clansman bowed. “Thank you for the feast. When the sun rises I will send men to the other clans and ask for fighters to join us.”

“No more than twenty from each clan,” Arton said.

“Will you come with us to the gathering oasis where my people wait?” Temerol asked.

“We will join you,” Lorana said.

“You may bring your pet wizard.”

“He is no pet but my friend and lover.”

“And you trust him?”

“Yes, and so should you.” Lorana wished for a way to persuade them of Arton’s good will.

* * *

When morning came, they packed the remaining meat. Three of the men galloped away. The remaining two helped Arton and Lorana onto the backs of spare riding beasts. “Do not use your wand,” Temerol said. “I have a knife and I will stop you.”

Arton nodded. “Unless there’s a need to protect us from some creature you can be sure I won’t.”

By late afternoon they reached the oasis. A woman ran to the leader. Tears flowed down her face. “Our son. He fell from the back of that gray stallion. He will die. He doesn’t wake.”

Lorana grasped Arton’s hand. “You can help.”

He swallowed. “Are you sure I should try? They distrust me.”

“Yes. Use the red stone the way you healed Dragon’s wing and his wounds from the ice wolf.”

He stared at the ground. “I am a wizard. They won’t let me try. How can they trust me not to harm the child?”

“I’ve spoken to Dragon. He will insist they allow you to heal the boy.”

Though he feared doing what she wanted, he followed her to a place where a crowd gathered around a small child. He stared at the unmoving body and gripped the wand with a red stone at the tip. His heart hammered in his chest. He feared failure, but the grief on the faces of Temerol and his spouse called for him to try.

After gulping a deep breath he stared at the faces of the men, women, and children who stood near the boy’s parents. Though these people approved of Dragon and Lorana, Arton feared a wrong move on his part would see his life and Lorana’s ended beneath spears, knives and arrows.

Lorana touched his hand. “You can and you must do this.”

“What if I fail? Using the wand can drain me completely.”

She stared into his eyes. The blaze of love and faith filled him with confidence. “Walk with me.”

He clasped her hand. “Come along. If I appear alone, they will turn on me.”

“I fear you’re right. Dragon says the same.”

With slow steps, he and Lorana wove a path among the gathered clansmen and women. Arton eased the wand holding the red fyrestone from his sheath. For a moment he hesitated. Drawing a deep breath he raised the wand above the child’s head. He powered the stone and watched the red glow with the rich color of freshly shed blood.

Though he had no knowledge of the number of bones broken he assessed the child’s body and felt overwhelmed by the number of injuries. The boy’s chest barely moved, causing the child to breath in shallow, rapid breaths. Arton focused the beam on this area rolling the color over the ribs and chest. The sounds of breathing changed, became deeper and slower. Murmurs from the gathered people raised Arton’s ability to continue.

The wand turned. The healing ray focused on the boy’s head. His color improved. He opened his eyes.

“Mama, Papa, I can breathe but I can’t move.”

Arton sucked in a breath. What now? He focused a stream of red over the child’s arms, pelvis and legs. The child’s fingers clenched. He wiggled his toes.

Though Arton felt a sweep of exhaustion, he continued. “Lorana, you must turn him so I can use the ray on his back.”

Lorana crouched beside the boy’s parents. Arton struggled to keep the ray from fading. Strength sapped from him. The three adults turned the child on his side. Arton fought to keep the beam steady as he ran the light from the tailbone along the spine to where the bones joined the head. He could almost hear the snaps as the broken pieces clicked into place.

The red ray sputtered and died. Arton’s knees buckled. He sprawled on the ground. Lorana grasped his wrist and steadied his stuttering heart.