The Hidden Fire (Book 2) (16 page)

“Get
the last of them onto the island and stand ready at the foot of the bridge. 
Without their guns, the two of you alone could hold them back for quite a
while.  With any luck I’ll join you shortly, but if I don’t make it, I want you
to know that in a fight, you can take any one of these men.”

“What
about Breed?”

“He’s
the exception — you don’t want to go blade to blade with him.  But it will be
dark.  I would distract him and get Lerica to stab him in the back.”  He
glanced skyward.  “But if it keeps raining, I feel that the levee around the
lake of the ruins will fail soon, and it will all come down the river.  Hold
them until then.”

For
a moment, Kyric went weak with relief.  Aiyan was himself again.  “What are you
going to do?”

Aiyan
stood.  “What I should have done this morning.”

Kyric
crossed the bridge without a glance from Guppy.  He loitered near the moat
while Lerica crouched in the tall grass, her machete already drawn from her
trousers and held low.  The two men with the cart had not yet returned.

Aiyan
faced the camp.  “Thurlun!  Colonel Thurlun!  I must speak to you at once.” 
His voice boomed over the rain.

Thurlun
looked up from his conversation with Pacey and came sloshing over to stand
before Aiyan.

“I’m
ready,” said Aiyan.  “I will show it to you now.”

Thurlun
let out a breath.  “I knew you’d come around, Candy.”

Aiyan
held out his hand.  “Here.  I’ll open it for you.”

Thurlun
slipped the chain from around his neck.  He held onto the locket for a moment,
dangling it from his fingers, still wary of getting too close to Aiyan.  Aiyan
edged to within arm’s length, and gently took it from him.

He
opened it with a flick of his thumb, and Thurlun froze upon seeing the essence
of the flame.  He stood stunned for a beat, hesitating to reach for it.

Aiyan
pulled it back, saying, “It is not for you to hold.”

He
had yanked his manacle chain taut, and now he thrust the blue fire beneath the
link closest to his hand.  The flame licked at it, and instantly it turned
white-hot, breaking in two with a sharp metallic snap.

Shocked
from his trance, Thurlun recovered his senses at once, sliding back and
reaching for his sword, for Aiyan’s sword, but Aiyan was already upon him, his
hand closing on Ivestris’ hilt at the same time as Thurlun’s.  The two of them
drew the blade as one.  Aiyan stepped in close with a circular movement, and
for a moment they were mirror images of each other.  Aiyan swung the blade up,
then down.  Thurlun had to let go or be thrown, and Aiyan took back his sword. 
Continuing the motion, he swung backhanded with all his strength and drove the
pommel through the laces of Thurlun’s vest and into his ribs.  He fell, kicking
in the mud, an airy wheezing sound coming from him, much like the death whine
of the angel ray.

Guppy
had seen it.  He bellowed an incoherent alarm, drawing his machete.  Kyric
thought about crossing back and attacking him, but he already lumbered toward
Aiyan, spewing out a string of curses.  Pacey had seen it too.  He ran to the
huts.

Aiyan,
his blade now wrapped in blue flames, went straight at Guppy, quick-stepping in
the mud, his feet barely touching.  He always moved so lightly for such a large
man.  He cut Guppy down with one slash, not even breaking his stride, and
crossed the bridge at the trot, severing the support ropes as he did.  Kyric
met him as soon as he was across.

“Stand
absolutely still,” said Aiyan.

With
two terrifying strokes of his flaming sword, he cut the chain from Kyric’s leg
irons.  When it was Lerica’s turn she had to close her eyes, but after it was
done she did a little skipping dance, chanting, “Yes, yes.”

The
men with the cart appeared, abandoning it to jog slipping in the mud for the
bridge.  Once they were across, Kyric stopped them.

‘
Are
there anymore Ilven still in the camp?
’ he said-signed.

Lioffin
shook his head.  ‘
No.  We were the last
.’

“The
odds are three to ten now,” Lerica said.  “We should attack — “  As Aiyan
stepped past them to speak with her, Lioffin’s arm erupted in blood, a report
echoing dully in the rain-soaked jungle.

“Get
down!” Aiyan said, pulling Kyric to the ground.

Lerica
waved at the Ilven.  ‘
Everyone down
.’  She turned to Aiyan.  “How in the
hell did they get a musket to fire in this rainstorm?”

“That
was Pacey, I’m sure,” said Aiyan as he examined Lioffin’s wound.  “With a
finely-made wheel-lock like his, the seams are closely fitted.  Push in the
dogs, apply a little wax, and it will be watertight as long as no moisture gets
down the barrel.  But you need a dry place to reload and it takes a long time.”

Kyric
tore a strip from his shirt to use as a bandage.  “He may have fired from
inside his hut,” he said.  “He has a line of sight from the door.”

Aiyan
shrugged.  “He nicked this fellow a good one, but the ball passed right
through.  He’ll be alright for now.”

“Did
you . . . did you kill Thurlun?” Kyric asked.

He
could barely hear Aiyan’s answer.  “I don’t know.  I certainly broke a couple
of his ribs.  I may have punctured his lung.”

Darkness
closed around them.  In the last failing light a group of four, most likely
Breed and the hunters, marched to the tables and returned with the empty cart,
turning it on its side at the head of the bridge, blocking the way.  They
hunkered down behind it.

“That’s
a bit of luck,” said Aiyan.  “They mean to trap us on this island, but all
they’ve done is prevent themselves from making a surprise attack.  They’ll have
to haul that cart aside before they can come across.”

The
rain began to ease up.  It continued steadily, but not nearly so hard.  Lerica
grabbed Kyric by the sleeve.  “What’s happening with the rain?” she said.  “If
it stops they will come across with their pistols and that will be all for us.”

“Calm
down,” Aiyan said, “even if it quits completely I doubt they’ll come in the
dark.  If it doesn’t pick up again we’ll have to take the fight to them before
morning — something I was hoping to avoid.”

“The
storm dragon has vented his anger,” Kyric whispered to himself.

“What
did you say?”

“This
rain is from my dreams, like the fire on the ship.”

Aiyan
was silent for a moment.  “I see.”

“I
did it with Rolirra’s help.  She was a master dreamer.”

“I
see,” said Aiyan.  He was quite again for another minute.  “Is there a way for
you to bring back the storm?”

“You’re
still thinking of the embankment at the lake of the ruins,” Kyric said.  He
shook his head, though it was too dark for anyone to see it.  “I’m not sure. 
Rolirra has always drawn me into the dreamlands.  I don’t know if I can get
there without her.”

He
heard Aiyan breath out heavily.  “You two go get some rest.  There’s no point
in all of us waiting here.  I’ll wake you if anything changes.”

Lerica
had plucked a leaf from a shrub and was using it to funnel rainwater into her
mouth.  “If you don’t mind, I’ll stay here for a while.  Wouldn’t be able to
sleep on a bet right now.”

Kyric
made his way to the large group of trees.  In a flash of lightning he saw that
the Ilven had laid Rolirra’s body in the only dry place, underneath the cooking
table.

He
knelt and touched her on the hand.  It was cold.  She was really dead.

He
pleaded silently as he looked for a place to lie down. 
Please be there. 
Please be there.

He
settled into a spot where the rain didn’t fall into his face.  He was wide
awake.  How was he going to fall asleep after what had happed today?

Please
be there
.

He
thought of the focus required for the weird arts.  The non-being.

Please
.

Emptiness.

A
change in the rhythm of the rain woke him.  Rolirra stood at the opening of the
cavern, the cloak of wolf’s moss wrapped tightly around her.  She had been looking
out over the rainlands, watching the overcast grow brighter with the morning. 
She turned to him when he sat up.

“What
is it?” she said.  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s
nothing,” he said, “just another bad dream.”

“Something
happened to me on the other side, didn’t it?”  Her eyes turned dark.

“I
don’t remember.”

It
was a lie.  He remembered the dream.

“I
awoke in the night,” she said, “and I was afraid.  I had been torn from my
dream, and sleep would not return.”

“That’s
just as well.  It was more of a nightmare.”

He
went to stand next to her and gazed up at the ceiling of clouds.  “I no longer
hear the thunder of the dragon,” he said.  “The storm has passed.  The rain grows
weak.”

She
slipped the glass flute from her pouch.  It was still intact.  “We can compel
the dragon to fly again.”

Kyric
thought for a moment.  They didn’t need rain so much as something more
decisive.

“Can
you compel it to do anything?”

“Anything
that its nature allows, if it does not want to hear the fairweather song.”

“Will
the flute call it to us?  I have an idea.”

She
raised the flute and played a long, sweet note.  The voices of bluebirds echoed
in the cavern, and outside, shafts of sunlight burst through the clouds.

High
above them, lightning crashed on the mountain with a deafening boom, rolling
across the alpine forest, and they backed away.  The wind rose quickly, a
rushing sound descending upon them, and then the storm dragon appeared at the
mouth of the cave, its great wings spread, flapping to break its momentum as it
lighted at the edge of the opening.  It looked down on them.

“Enough,”
commanded the dragon, speaking in the Essian Tongue.  “Play no more.”

Kyric
stepped in front of Rolirra, his hand on his sword.  “Do us a service, and we
will return the flute to you.”  He found that when he talked to the dragon, he
too spoke the Essian Tongue, and did so quite fluently.

The
dragon snorted.  “Blackmail.  How knightly of you.”

Kyric
shook his head.  “Not so.  You owe us a debt.  It was us who freed you from the
bondage of the cloud ogre.”

The
dragon raised a talon.  It crackled with electricity.  Kyric felt an unpleasant
tickle as something unseen washed over him.

“Never
let it be said that the sky dragons are without honor.  What is this service?”

Kyric
bowed.  “We wish for you to carry us aloft to the islands in the sky.”

The
dragon recoiled, thunder growling in its belly.  “The Lord of Storms does not
act as a porter for lowly travelers.  If all you seek is transportation, summon
another.  Find a new way.”

“We
are not mere travelers,” Rolirra said firmly.  “We are master dreamers.”  She
raised the flute.  “I can prove the truth of that if you wish.”

“We
are at noble purposes,” Kyric said.  “And once we are there, I will have need
of your strength — a task that only you can perform, Lord Dragon.”  He dropped
to one knee and bowed again.  “We submit ourselves to your wisdom and your
honor.”

The
dragon roared, thunder shaking the walls of the cavern.  Its sublime yellow
eyes seemed to pierce their hearts.  It extended a talon.

“Mount!”
said the Lord of Storms.

They
climbed its foreleg, the smooth-looking scales in fact coarse and rough under
their feet.  They straddled its great neck where it met the shoulder.  Without
warning, the dragon swung about and leapt from the cave, spreading its wings
and diving to gain momentum.  The rain stung their faces.  Each scale of the
dragon’s armor had a spike growing from it as a spur, and Kyric and Rolirra
clung desperately to these.

The
storm dragon raised its head and swung into a climbing arc, its wings pumping
furiously.  They passed through the layer of clouds, raising thunderheads as they
did, lightning bolts shooting from the dragon’s claws.  Overhead, the sky
islands looked small, drifting like flotsam on an invisible current.

They
rose above the summit of the mountain, and the dragon climbed towards the
biggest island.  Even the clouds lay far below them.  The horizon began to
curve, and beyond it they could see blue and green planets against a sky that
had turned black.

A
sudden jolt nearly threw them.  The dragon shuddered, fighting the currents in
the sky as it soared above the islands.  The one below them was huge, covered
in forest and meadow.  The forest ran with blue light, and a golden glow shone
beneath the grass.  A few deer stood drinking at a small pond, their antlers
like polished silver.  The dragon spiraled down, landing gently at the leading edge
of the island.

“My
thanks,” Kyric said to the dragon when they had jumped down to stand before
it.  Their breath came out frosty, and their cloaks snapped in the wind.

The
dragon folded its wings.  “Name this task you would have of me, dreamer.”

Kyric
took inventory of the nearby islands.  “This one is too big, I fear.”  He
pointed to a massive raft of granite bobbing in the stream ahead of them. 
“That one will do, I think.”

Rolirra
eyed him suspiciously.  “What are you going to do?”

He
stood at the very edge, watching the dreamlands roll past them far below.  They
were passing over a sea of boiling mud.  Then he saw it on the horizon.

“Lord
Dragon,” he said, “when I am ready, I would have you push yon rocky isle from
the current, so that it falls to Aerth.”