The Last Dragon: Book Four

CHAPTER SEVEN

As I sat beside the fire, sleep was heavy in my eyes when Anna contacted me again. *We did it.*

*Did what?*

*Will and the two fisherman-boys snuck up on the guards at the dock and tied them up. We pulled alongside and loaded the sail that was wrapped around the mast and extra oars. They even managed to snatch more arrows and some food before the alarm sounded.*

*Alarm?*

*A loud whistle. The guard-watch, Will said. We just pushed away from the dock and rowed into the darkness as easy as thieves, which I guess we were, come to think of it.* A mental giggle followed.

*What’s happening now?*

*They got the mast set up and the sail is out, but there isn’t much wind. Four of them are rowing, which is pretty funny. They need to do it all together, or the oars bang into each other, but they are so bad we’re laughing. Princess Elizabeth is a hopeless rower but won’t give up her oar.*

I told all of that to Kendra, and both of us laughed as we imagined her trying to row in step with the others—and failing. The oar she manned clashed with the rhythm of the others. It would anger her, and Elizabeth would try harder, which seemed to be the case from the little Anna told me.

We decided that by morning, Elizabeth would have mastered the skill, but there would have been several clashes of will before then. The idea of her ordering her subjects to row in step with her instead of her adjusting to their pace had us laughing far into the night. She wouldn’t match them, they would match her—or else. Neither of us believed she would allow others to do work she couldn’t. Our princess was not built that way. She worked as hard, or harder than any of her subjects, with the possible exception of me.

When I said that last part out loud, Kendra fell into another fit of laughter. Sisters. My assessment of how hard I worked didn’t seem at all funny to me.

I stopped talking since Kendra couldn’t remain serious, and almost instantly fell asleep. When I awoke in the morning, she had already packed and watered the horses in the shrinking puddle. I drank far more water than I wanted but had heard that you couldn’t drink too much in the desert.

My mind wanted to go back and think about the rainstorm, if a storm twenty paces across can be called that, I’d created one. I forced my thinking in other directions. There are times when direct thought is required—and others where it is not.

The mind is odd that way. Not thinking about something often produces better results than dwelling endlessly on the same thing. There was too much information to put in its proper place—and that didn’t leave room to consider what else I might do. I turned to my sister.

Kendra said, “That was good for me. Last night, I mean. I haven’t laughed so hard since we left Dire.”

“At my expense.”

She grinned and tried to placate me with false sincerity. “I know, you work harder than any of us.”

Before agreeing, I came to my senses and ignored the statement. It was true, nonetheless. Only a sister wouldn’t recognize my qualities and achievements.

We rode to the top of the same hill, or more precisely, mound. From there we surveyed the landscape searching for signs of life or movement, which might mean danger or that we were being followed. Strangers probably didn’t mean anything good for us and we’d avoid any. We found nothing out of place.

As we’d been taught during our military training at Crestfallen, we remained still and allowed our eyes to scan the far horizon and then work their way nearer, and from side to side. We focused on nothing. The eyes know what to do. The smallest movement would draw them, as would any color out of place.

Thinking or trying to find those things decreased the natural abilities we all have. After the broad search, we narrowed what we were after and reexamined our entire surroundings. We found nothing to concern us. Water was no longer a consideration despite our travel in the driest part of the Brownlands.

Kendra said, “I’ll take the lead since we have plenty of water and I’m full of energy.”

“Enough water to last a day,” I cautioned her automatically.

She spurred her horse ahead before calling back over her shoulder in an amused tone, “When I need more, I’ll just have my big brother, the mage, create a little rainstorm over me.”

There was no proper answer. The jest held too much truth. I rode with my eyes piercing the back of her neck with my anger. She should have had the good manners to flinch.

The plants grew fewer and smaller. Only the hardiest survived, and most of them looked like another day without water would kill them. I was tempted to sprinkle a little water on each one we passed. The ground became rocky, a thin layer of coarse sand over black rock. The mountains to the west were hidden by rising waves of heat.

Not that it was hotter than nearer the lake. There was nothing to provide shade or absorb the sun, and despite the darker color of the sand, the waves of heat seemed to strike the ground and bounce directly up at us.

I climbed down to relieve myself beside a bush that looked like it could use a little water, and before climbing back into my saddle, the bottoms of my feet were burning from the heat of the sand. The horses had thick hooves to protect them, but well before midday, my little ugly horse stumbled for the first time.

I hoped it was an accident, an oddity. Not long after, it did so again. The ground didn’t appear any rougher. But it was a warning we couldn’t ignore.

“Kendra, we need a place to hold up until evening. My horse is worn out.”

Instead of arguing or questioning me, she nodded. We started following a thin trail where animals or men had gone before. Whatever had traveled our way may have done so years or generations ago. Without rain, deserts are slow to change or erase the passage of others.

“Who made this trail?” I asked.

“No idea, but it does not matter.”

“Why?”

She turned to me as if I’d asked another stupid question, which it turned out I had. She said, “Because a trail comes from one place and goes to another.”

She was right. Trails exist for reasons, even old ones. The ground became more broken, and we reached a dry riverbed. The banks of either side were taller than a man on a horse and they were steep, yet the trail went down one of the few places where access to the bottom was an easy ride. Across the riverbed, perhaps a hundred steps away, the path continued up the other bank.

Kendra turned off the trail to our right along the dry riverbed and to where the bank was even taller and steeper, almost a small cliff. At the base was an old campsite. While it was in direct sun, a small sliver of shade was already growing on the east side. Before long, there would be enough to shade us.

Kendra dismounted and said, “Nice of somebody to leave this for us.”

“In this heat, I need more sleep.”

She nodded, but said, “We all do. First, we need more water. Mine’s all gone, and the horses must be parched.”

I looked at the sand at my feet. Any rain would soak down before it could become a puddle to drink from. We needed a hollow in solid rock like last night.

Kendra said, “Look at the old river bottom near the center. It’s a different color.”

We walked there, and she knelt. With a hand, she scooped at it and found it hard. “Clay. Baked hard.”

“But not a hollow. Water will just flow away.”

She looked behind us where the clay mixed with sand. “We’ll make a little dam. The horses can drink from that. So, can we.”

Her idea was simple and would work. Kendra had a habit of doing that. Most of us tend to complicate issues. We pushed sand to the hard middle where it was baked hard by the sun, into a crude circle. I sat beside it and called on the little nearby water, concentrated it into a mist that engulfed us in a short time. As before, a slight breeze caused the vapor droplets to collide and combine, and finally to fall as drops.

The horses smelled the water and arrived on their own as the first drops struck the ground and sank in so fast, we watched them hit, turn the clay a darker color, then it faded back to the original.

I pulled more water, and the number of drops increased. The ground held onto the water better, and more fell. Under our little cloud, water finally rose in the circular dam we’d made until a finger dipped into it wouldn’t touch bottom.

The horses had already lapped up, snorted, and sucked all they wanted. However, I noticed they didn’t leave the mini-storm to return to the heat of the direct sun. Their coats were soaked, cool water sluiced off them in sheets, and to me, they looked as contented as we were.

Wet hair matted Kendra’s smiling face. She finally knelt and used her lips to suck the surface of the water. I did the same. It had a gritty texture and tasted of dryness if that makes sense, but overall it was some of the best water I’d ever tasted.

Kendra said, “I love having a mage for a brother.”

“I am not a mage.”

She ignored me. “Do you know what would be really nice? I mean, this is good but better? Well, I’ll tell you. If you could slow the rain to a small drizzle, just a few tiny drops here and there, and keep the cool mist around us while we sleep. And maybe add a mug of cool white wine.”

“Using magic makes me tired so you’ll have to wait for the wine.”

She sat still, enjoying the diminishing rain as I slowed it to a cool mist. “Why haven’t you heard from Anna?”

“I’ll try her now.”

I reached out and found her mind unreceptive. It was dark in her mind and wouldn’t allow me entry. She was sleeping. Interesting. I gently prodded and poked. Nothing. I considered trying to suggest a bee stinging her arm but didn’t for two reasons. First, it might not work. Second, it might.

Waking to a bee sting was not the ideal situation for either of us. But her sleep, as little as I could tell, was peaceful, so I assumed our friends were doing well. They must have made the initial escape and hadn’t been captured, or Anna would not be comfortably asleep.

“She is sleeping. They were probably up most of the night.”

“Sleeping? In the daytime? Are you sure?”

I knew what she was asking—but she didn’t want to say the words out loud. Was she alive? “I can touch her mind, but it’s like talking to a deaf person. She is there. I sense no fear or pain, so assume she is sleeping.”

“Can you wake her and find out?”

I paused. “I don’t know. Doing that might really scare her, I mean, waking up with someone in your head.”

She said, “You’re right, you’re right. Don’t try. Can you tell when she wakes?”

“I can check back with her until she is awake.”

That settled the conversation. The gentle rain had come to a stop and was now more of a fog, so I added a little water to it, and a few small drops fell on us. Kendra looked up, her wet hair plastered on her face, along with a wide smile. “This is nice.”

I said, “I wonder what it looks like from a distance?”

She sat up suddenly. “I can’t see anything past a dozen steps away. I assume nothing out there can see us. What a way to hide.”

“Or, to be snuck up on,” I added. Then, upon an instant if further consideration, “But you’re right. It could be a way to hide. We might have to modify things a little, but it could work.”

“What else can your new powers do?” Kendra asked. “Can you make lightning or fire? We should make a list.”

I had to laugh. She sounded like the eager Kendra of a month ago—and before. A childlike attitude to most of the world in a young woman’s body. She had always been the curious one, the girl who wanted to know more, and the girl who avoided practice with swords, spears, bows, knives, and any combat. Princess Elizabeth and I looked forward to the morning lessons, even to the point of extending them until time to dress for lunch.

Kendra had attended the same lessons half-heartedly, skipping them when possible, and never taking an active role. That didn’t mean she couldn’t defend herself with most weapons, or that she would hesitate to do so. She still wore her pair of throwing knives under her sleeves.

That thought gave my mind time to shift to a related subject. When encountering enemies, they looked to me as the threat. She was the chameleon that was possibly more dangerous because she was unknown. In me, they knew they faced a swordsman and treated me that way. I had to fight to defeat them. Kendra could act demure and innocent and then strike like a desert snake from concealment behind a rock.

That provided us with an added weapon to use when needed. My magic was similar. Only a few knew I had any abilities, and none besides Kendra knew the extent of my new ones. I turned to share my ideas only to find my sister had slumped forward in an awkward position and was sound asleep.

I eased her to her side and heard a mumble of thanks before standing. I walked out of the rain into intense midday heat and a cloudless sky. My clothing steamed and would soon be dry. A long survey in four of the six ancient directions mentioned in the Book of Warfare revealed we were alone.

But there were six. At sea, there were dangers that came from below. And there was always the sky. Because of training, I glanced up. A dark figure high above floated on waves of air, hardly using its wings to remain aloft. I smiled to myself. Kendra’s dragon checking up on us, and as always keeping us in her sight.

I turned away to reenter my little gray cloud and perhaps take a nap too when I paused. The dragon had appeared odd, even at the extreme distance. It was too thin around the middle. Almost like a Wyvern.

I stopped so quickly I almost fell forward, my eyes already searching the pale blue near the sun. My eyes squinted, then found it again. The Wyvern was much closer, diving directly at me, its wings pinned back, its eyes locked on mine.

“Kendra,” I screamed.

At the same time, my sword appeared in my hand, and a hated tinging of fear filled me. The Wyvern was as large as a house. Its talons curved and were as long as a steer’s horns. They were extended, ready to grasp me. The mouth full of jagged teeth showed as the lips pulled back in a snarl.

It wasn’t flying so much as falling at me. I saw the details of the pattern of its skin, the red pupils of the eyes, the salivating pushed away by the passage of air. I hated the thing.

It could kill me simply by falling on me. At the speed it came, there was no contest, no place to hide. I ignored the talons, the speed, and the ripping teeth.

I stood my ground, waiting with my little sword in hand. From somewhere, my mind seemed to belong to someone else. It pulled away from the coming attack and methodically considered my options, which were few. I couldn’t outrun it. There was no shelter to hide behind. Kendra’s dragon was not going to rescue me. But I had magic.

I faintly heard my sister shouting my name, but there was no time to turn. Instead, I focused on all the surface of the ground me, drawing the searing heat to me in a similar manner as I did the moisture for the rain that still fell near Kendra. I concentrated that heat, reduced it to the size of my fist, combined it with more heat from the surface of the hot sand, and then my mind pushed it at the Wyvern in an intense ball of fire.

The Wyvern screamed in fear and pain as it burst into flames.

The creature became red, blue, and orange as tongues of fire consume it, as it continued to fall from the sky. Its wings were no longer visible in the pyre, it continued the forward course it had been on, falling directly at me.

“Damon,” Kendra screamed, waking me from my trance.

I dived to my right, and rolled over and over in the sand, as the impact from the Wyvern scored a trench, right where I’d been standing. It had come so near to me I had felt the heat as it passed by on its death dive.

Kendra dived on top of me, crying and plummeting her fists on my chest in frustration. “Why didn’t you move?”

“Did you see what I did?”

She shoved me aside as a tavern server might shove a drunk. “Yes! You stood there and waited for that thing to crush you.”

My voice was soft. “No, I made it burn. I set it on fire.”

“How?” She looked at me, scared.

“With my mind. I pulled the heat from the sand and rocks and air, then made it hotter and threw it at the Wyvern.” I turned to her. She seemed less surprised and impressed than me.

I turned to the black, smoking, dead husk of what had been a magnificent animal. I’d killed it without touching it. Just the power of my mind, a power I hadn’t even known existed a few moments ago, had killed a beast.

Kendra said, “I guess we need to add another one to that list we were discussing.”

For some reason, that struck me as funny. Perhaps it was a way to release the built-up fear inside, or that my sense of humor is stunted and often out of step with the rest of the world. No matter. I laughed, and Kendra joined in. We laughed until we cried.