Rage of the Dragon (27 page)

“Somewhere secret,” Kailani breathed. “Somewhere we can be alone. Just the two of us.”

Farinn was still uneasy. “I can’t leave. The guards—”

“Silly!” Kailani giggled. “I’m your guard.”

Farinn looked back at his bed. “We could stay here—”

“The walls are thin. Everyone would hear us,” said Kailani. “The guard would come to see what was going on. If we were discovered…”

“What would happen?” Farinn asked nervously.

“Nothing would happen to
you,
” Kailani said.

“I don’t want to get you into trouble…” Farinn started to back away.

“I like being in trouble!” Kailani whispered.

She pressed close to him and twined her arms around him and kissed him. Taking hold of his hand, she led him out of his room and into the center area.

The night was dark. He could see nothing but Kailani seemed to know where she was going. Cautioning him to be silent, she led him through the darkness. He followed her, his heart pounding with the thrill of the adventure and the touch of her hand. She stopped and he bumped into her.

“Where are we?”

“A secret passage that leads out of the tower,” she whispered. “The door is hidden.”

She spoke words that were foreign to him and let go of his hand. Bright light flared, dazzling his eyes, and then it vanished. He heard a creaking sound, as of the door opening, and Kailani had hold of his hand once again.

“Be careful,” she cautioned. “There’s a step. Don’t fall.”

He slid his foot onto the step. Putting out his hand to steady himself, he encountered a stone wall. He heard Kailani whispering again and the creaking sound again; the door closing. He felt her fumbling about in the darkness and then a soft, glowing light flared. Kailani was holding one of the lanterns he’d seen the Aquins carry.

The two were pressed together at the top of a long staircase that plunged almost straight down through the stone walls. The staircase was so long, Farinn could not make out what lay at the end. He looked over his shoulder. The door was indeed hidden. He reached out his hand, touched what seemed to be rock, cold and slightly damp.

“What was this used for?” he asked wonderingly.

“An escape route,” Kailani answered. “In case the palace ever came under siege, which it never has in all the history of our people.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “Now it’s used only by servants or lovers.”

They walked cautiously down the uneven stairs, with Kailani taking the lead, guiding Farinn with a touch of her hand.

“You used a magic spell to open the door,” he said.

He was growing increasingly uncomfortable, perhaps because he did not know any warriors who knew magic. He had never before been in a building with a magic door.

Kailani glanced over her shoulder. Her hair clung to her bare skin. “A simple rune spell. Everyone in the palace knows it.”

She stopped on the step beneath him and looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and beautiful and yearning.

“Don’t worry, Farinn,” she added, guessing his thoughts. “You will be back before morning. You will never be missed.”

Farinn bent to kiss her, slipped, and nearly fell down the stairs. She caught him and they both laughed.

“Make haste!” she whispered, her breath hot on his face. “I cannot wait for our pleasure.”

She began to run down the stairs heedlessly. Farinn plunged recklessly after her, tripping and stumbling and hoping he would not break his neck. He had never before felt like this—wild and bold and exhilarated, as though he had burst free from himself and was soaring toward heaven. The song, his song, crashed and thundered in his head.

The staircase came to an end with an abruptness that caused Farinn to almost pitch headfirst into a stream of water, black and swift.

“Run-off from the rain that falls on the top of the island. We collect it to use for drinking and to water the groves and gardens,” Kailani explained. “From here, we will swim. Take off your caftan.”

She drew near him and her fingers tugged on the buttons. “Let me help…”

Farinn grasped her hands and kissed her. The caftan slid to the wet rock. She laughed and jumped into the water and pulled him in after her.

The current was fast and carried Farinn along. He couldn’t see and he would have been nervous if the water had been deep, but he could touch the bottom with his feet. Kailani swam beside him, twisting and rolling like an otter.

“Enjoy the ride,” she said to him. “There are streams like this throughout the city. The current will carry us through the sluice gate and out into the sea.”

Farinn tried floating on his back and finally let himself relax and revel in the moment. He found pleasure in surrendering himself to the current, letting it carry him along. Kailani set the lantern upon the water and he was amazed to see it float. The light swirled in the eddies and bumped up against them. Farinn was delighted. He would put this in a song, but only a song for himself. No one else would ever hear it. Except, perhaps, Kailani.

“Where are we going?” he asked, and realized suddenly he didn’t care.

“To Lover’s Cove,” said Kailani. “It is really only a cave, but it is filled with hundreds of little nooks and hideaways, perfect for those seeking privacy.” She added with a little sigh, “Privacy is something hard to come by in our city.”

“Why is that?”

“Our dwellings are small and overcrowded. We live on top of one another. Our life spans are long. The only threats we face are accidents, disease, and predators. Families may have as many as four generations living beneath one roof.”

Kailani shook her head. “But our peaceful ways may come to an end. War is inevitable, I fear. The followers of Aelon are trying to force his worship on everyone and there are those like our Queen who are faithful to the Old Gods.”

Farinn held out his arm as they floated down the swift-moving stream and showed Kailani the long, jagged, snake-shaped scar. “Back in Sinaria, the priestesses of Aelon cut our flesh and embedded us with magical crystals. If we did anything or thought anything Aelon did not like, the god punished us.”

“Truly?” Kailani’s eyes were wide, startled. “Aelon can do that?”

“The pain of disobedience was like plunging my arm into hot coals,” said Farinn, grimacing. “When we escaped, Skylan used the blessed sword of Vindrash to cut out the crystals. Our blood washed away the god’s hold over us.”

Kailani caught the lantern as it floated past. She took his arm and held the light to examine the scar. She ran her fingers along it. Farinn flinched at her touch.

“I’m sorry,” Kailani said, concerned. “Does it still hurt?”

“The memory of it,” said Farinn. “But we won’t think of such things now.”

She splashed water in his face. Playing like children, they floated together down the stream, kicking with their feet and sometimes coming together to kiss, their mouths filling with water, which only made them laugh more.

The current slowed, the stream widened. Kailani drew away from him. By the light of the lantern, he could see a gate made of the enormous teeth of some sea creature embedded in the stone wall. The teeth were set close together, leaving barely enough room for him and Kailani to slither between. Fortunately Farinn was thin for a Vindrasi or he would have been forced to dive under the teeth.

“The sluice gate will not repel invaders,” Kailani said. “But it will slow them down. A man built like your chief would never make it!”

Beyond was the sea, inky black.

“That is our destination,” said Kailani, indicating a cavern in the distance, the opening glimmering with a faint phosphorescence. “The way is not far. I have brought you a breathing mask.”

She helped Farinn put the mask over his face and attached the clamshell to his back. He felt an instant’s panic when he could not breathe through his nose, but relaxed when he drew air into his lungs. Kailani did not use a mask. She began to swim, flashing through the water as fast as a porpoise. Farinn was a strong swimmer, but slower, burdened with the clamshell, and he soon lost sight of her. He could see the lantern she was carrying, however, and he swam toward the light.

His thoughts were on Kailani and taking her into his arms and his desire building and then the sweet release. When he felt an arm wrap around his waist, he thought it was Kailani, teasing him. Farinn was about to laugh in response, but then there were more arms, strong hands clasping him.

He was not a warrior, at least by Skylan’s standards, but Farinn had been trained to fight—his father had seen to that. Farinn lashed out at his captors. He kept his wits and made his punches count and he managed to hurt one of them, for he heard a grunt of pain. Something hard, like the butt end of a spear, slammed into his gut. Farinn doubled up, groaning. When the pain eased, he raised his head and saw Kailani, treading water quite close to him, holding the lantern, lighting the way.

“Don’t fight them,” she advised him. “You will only get hurt.”

A bitter taste flooded Farrin’s mouth. Kailani’s seduction had been a ruse, a trick to lure him out of the palace and into this ambush, though why they wanted him he could not imagine. He was only a poet.

“Where should we take him, Kailani?” one of the warriors asked.

“I will guide you,” she answered. “I’m sorry, Farinn. I didn’t mean…”

He looked away, unable to stand the sight of her. The lantern light wavered and then she swam off.

Overwhelmed with shame, Farinn sagged listlessly in his captors’ arms, the fight knocked out of him. He could not hear his song and wondered if he would ever hear it again.

CHAPTER

26

Aylaen was walking a path through the forest, a familiar path. The time was winter. The trees were bare of their leaves, the evergreens green and white. The path was covered over with snow, but she knew where she was; the path led to the house of Owl Mother.

Aylaen was bewildered. She didn’t know why she was on this path, because she didn’t want to visit Owl Mother. She was back home and she wanted to go to her own mother. Aylaen tried to turn back, but no matter which way she turned, she always ended up on the same path. She came to a halt outside Owl Mother’s ramshackle house.

The day was gray and silent, the thick, heavy silence that comes with the snow. A smudge of smoke rose from the chimney, and a light burned inside the window. The snow was trampled, marked with the footprints of animals.

Aylaen knocked loudly on the door.

“Owl Mother! It’s me, Aylaen. I’ve come home. Let me inside!”

The door opened. A baby dragon stood on the threshold. The dragon’s wings lifted and its crest flattened. When it opened its mouth and hissed, Aylaen gasped and fell back in shock. Owl Mother hobbled over, flapping her skirts at the dragon and chiding it.

“Get back to the fire, you silly beast. You’ll catch your death!”

The baby dragon ran off. Aylaen stared after it in astonishment. She did not accept Owl Mother’s invitation to enter, but remained standing on the threshold.

“Come in, child,” Owl Mother called from the smoke-tinged, warm darkness. “Don’t worry about the dragon. She can’t fly; she has a torn wing.”

“I’ve never seen a baby dragon,” said Aylaen, awed.

“Not many have, child. Mostly the parent keeps the babies safe in their own world. I’ve no notion how this one came to be here. She may be an orphan who wandered through the portal.”

Aylaen still hovered on the threshold and Owl Mother scowled.

“Why did you knock if you don’t plan to come in?”

Aylaen flushed. “Forgive me, Owl Mother, I will visit you another time. Now I want only to go home and I can’t find the way…”

“Come inside. You are letting in the cold,” Owl Mother chided her.

Owl Mother had seen over seventy summers. Her hair was white as the frost. She wore a wool dress and a heavy shawl wrapped around her shoulders and tied behind her back. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the room was invitingly warm.

Aylaen entered the house reluctantly. Everyone knew that Owl Mother was a little mad. It was said she consorted with the fae.

Owl Mother closed the door on the cold and the snow. The old woman motioned for Aylaen to sit down in a chair by the fire, first shooing away a seagull perched on the chair’s back. The seagull flew off with an annoyed squawk. The baby dragon was curled up on a pile of straw before the fire. The dragon’s eyes gazed steadily at Aylaen. The seagull took refuge in the rafters and cleaned its beak with its foot. Aylaen remained standing.

“Owl Mother, I need to find the way home…”

“So do we all, child. Sit yourself. Someone wants to talk to you. He’s come a long distance.”

“Talk to me? How did anyone know I would be here?” Aylaen asked, bewildered.

“Because we are always where we need to be,” said Owl Mother, a cunning glint in her eye.

A small oil lamp stood on a table. By the flame’s light, Aylaen could see the dragon’s red eyes gleam and the seagull’s black eyes glisten. Owl Mother’s eyes were dark and did not reflect the light. Aylaen sat down in the chair.

A tapestry covered one end of the room. The tapestry was very old and portrayed warriors in strange-looking armor battling each other. Aylaen had been forced to learn to sew and she could appreciate the work that had gone into the tapestry. Owl Mother walked over to the tapestry and with her wizened, clawlike hand drew it aside.

A man sat on a low three-legged stool. He rose when he saw Aylaen and stood facing her. He was tall and once must have been well-built, strong, and muscular. His heavy shoulders were now stooped, his muscles grown flaccid, and his skin hung from his arms. His face was deeply creased, and the corners of his mouth sagged.

His eyes were strange and arresting. Large and gray, the eyes were red-rimmed, watery, sunken in his head and constantly in motion, roving back and forth, shifting this way and that. He spoke to her, but he did not look at her. He searched, watched, always watching.

Aylaen rose to confront him. She knew this man, or rather, knew this god.

“I see you recognize me,” he said, not looking at her.

“You are Sund the traitor!” said Aylaen.