Faith Of The Dragon Tamer (Book 2) Read online

  When the night had finally dissipated they lay in each other’s arms, watching the distant sun begin to fill the world with light. Lazo stroked her arm in silence, still needing to feel her close.

  Suddenly, he chuckled.

  She twisted in his arms and looked into two distinct, smiling eyes. She raised her eyebrows, indicating for him to let her in on the joke.

  His eyes danced with mischief. “I was just thinking the Mar wasn’t so bad. It forced one of my whimsical dreams into a reality.”

  Manda buried her face in his shoulder, hiding her widening smile. “Mine too, Lazo, mine too.”

  Chapter 6

  Sim flew low in the sky, searching. He still hurt from where he had fallen, and Aidan’s emotions were still a resonating rain inside him: beautiful, yet sorrowful. He was unsure if he ever wanted to feel those emotions again, and what he had felt only brushed the surface of Aidan’s soul. He still didn’t want her to leave, but now he knew why she yearned to do so, and for once he understood.

  “Sim,” Aidan thought. “Thank you.”

  Sim was shocked. The Bane never thanked him, just demanded without explanation. Sim did the only thing he knew to do and that was to change the subject.

  “I’ve found his trail. We’ll find him soon.”

  Sim felt Aidan moving through him, breathing the night air as he did. He knew it took a lot of energy for Aidan to bring herself his senses. It was far easier for her to stay in the darkness, but her determination was too great. She had to know. Sim liked that. It was as he was. He had to know. And now that he knew her feelings he knew why she had such resolve to do as she did.

  But before he could warn her to be cautions, before he could tell her the Bane was right, and the more she used his senses the harder it would be to stay herself, the Bane spoke.

  “Careful, my child. The more you are the same, the less you are different, and the less identity you’ll have.”

  “I have my faith. Nothing can take that,” Aidan replied.

  “The dragon can. Without meaning to, the dragon will.”

  - - -

  “I don’t think the Old Sea could compare to this damnedable place,” Neki said as his horse trudged out of an ankle-high, stagnant pool of water. Neki’s scowl caused Galvin and Markum to chuckle.

  “Don’t complain,” Galvin said with a grin, “at least we’re moving.”

  “That’s debatable.” Neki scowled again.

  As much as Ren hated to acknowledge it, Neki was right. He doubted they had traveled over fifty dragon tails from where the Sphinx had appeared. And they had been traveling for almost a full day.

  If exasperated was the word for their moods it didn’t come close to matching Ren’s inner turmoil.

  The same night he had emerged from the Oracle the rain had started. It wasn’t an ordinary rain, it was a deluge, the kind of rain nothing could move in, at least nothing that had any wits. Visibility was infinitesimal, the constant dousing of icy pellets was maddening, and if that wasn’t enough the Oracle had decided to appear at the edge of the worst region of Crape, the Rancor, where a heavy rain would take days to permeate the red clay soil, leaving a slippery, treacherous, unclear path. If they had tried to ride in such weather they could have lost each other, the way, or a horse to a lame foot glutted by the uncompromising soil.

  After two days of waiting under a make-do shelter they were finally moving, at least in theory. The scenery seemed to take forever to change. If it was the type of scenery that warranted ogling the trek would have been tolerable, but it wasn’t. The brushy undergrowth, littered with thorny plants and spindly, vine-filled trees stirred up a medley of confusion. It was said when the Maker created the Rancor he couldn’t make up his mind and tossed everything on his shelves into his creation pot, simmering it for days to produce a scattered and inharmonious terrain.

  Frequent curses from Neki, colorful invectives from Galvin, and cautious whispers from Markum drifted in the sultry air like beacons of warning. Ren didn’t know why he had insisted on leaving the shelter when the rains had stopped. He knew how dangerous it would be to traverse the Rancor when the soil had yet to imbibe the water.

  No, that wasn’t true. He knew why. Although the horses’ hooves were sinking like quicksand, his own soul felt like it was already covered.

  He had to find the One.

  The urgency of that truth had first come to him the night he had left the Oracle. His urgency was suffocating, his need immense. One thing kept repeating in his mind: he had to find the One before the dragon found him.

  But then the rains started. Everywhere he turned he heard the whispers of the Oracle. Sleep had managed to come, but fitfully. Every time he would sleep dreams of the Oracle plagued him and his urgency grew: he had to find the One before the dragon found him.

  His men tried to talk to him, but all he could do was look into their faces and voice a meager reply.

  On the second night the rains continued to fall. He cursed the rain and condemned his own stupidity for failing to leave as soon as he had emerged from the Oracle.

  A fire grew inside him during that time. He wanted answers and he wanted them yesterday. The One was the key. If he could reach him before the silver dragon landed he held hopes he could rout the Oracle’s demands. If the One knew how to sever the dragon’s hold on Aidan there was a chance his words wouldn’t have the effect he feared.

  Only the kota’s loud purr brought him comfort. He stroked her neck as he rode. Keena had grown, so he didn’t have to bend far. Her horn now reached a hand’s span in length and she stood at eye level with a few of the other horses in the group. Brown eyes swiveled to him. A small smile threatened his lips as he gave in to her silent entreaty and pulled a piece of dried apple from his pocket.

  Neki’s sudden exclamation caused him to turn. They had just reached the outer rim of the Rancor and were now trudging out of the bog and up a sharp rise that led to the middle plateau of Crape. The horses trotted forward without command, gleeful to shake off the red clay coating their underbellies and flanks.

  The mood of the men quickly rose. Laughter floated to Ren, raising his own spirits as they topped the rise where lush, verdant grass stirred in the breeze. The undergrowth and thorny plants of the Rancor were banished, and instead broad cedar trees coated with falling moss careened over the plains. The sun began to creep from behind the clouds, exiling the rains and sending a blanket of solace ahead of them.

  Ren urged his mount into a fast canter. His men followed, eager to put distance between themselves and the Rancor. The thundering drone of their horses’ hooves soothed Ren’s mind, but it was only a few heartbeats before a shadow eclipsed their flight. Ren looked up.

  Instead of looking at the sky, he looked at dragon’s wings.

  Ren urged his mount faster, pleading to the Fates the dragon would fly by, praying to the Maker it wouldn’t land.

  “Not yet Chance,” he whispered.

  He felt more than saw Galvin and Bentzen flank him protectively. Markum voiced a warning behind him.

  The world was suddenly bathed in shadow. Silver scales carpeted the sky before the dragon glided to the ground, blocking their path.

  The horses reared, eyes wide with fear. Keena pranced at his side, thinking it was a game. Harsh curses indicated Neki had been thrown. His muttered exclamations faded as he ran after his fleeing steed.

  It took all Ren’s strength to keep his mare from running, and still she bucked. Galvin dismounted and grabbed Ren’s reins, cooing his mount into submission. Ren dropped to the ground and turned from the dragon.

  “Ren?”

  A hand touched his shoulder, another found his back, still another his arm. The dragon thundered a greeting, closer this time, almost directly behind him.

  Ren looked between Galvin and Bentzen’s concerned faces. Markum paled as he muttered something about the Oracle. All eyes turned to Ren. A sudden understanding rose in each.

  Bentzen stepped forward. “Do you
want me to kill it for you, Ren?”

  Ren shook his head. “No, Bentzen, that isn’t what I have to do. It will live, physically that is.”

  Bentzen studied him. “Will you, my prince?”

  “I will, physically.”

  “Can we do anything?” Galvin’s voice brought Ren a small comfort.

  Ren drew a deep breath. He looked at his companions, feeling the warmth of their friendship. He had been selfishly distant since the Oracle. His friends surrounded him, offering him comfort, yet all eyes were filled with disquiet. He had put it there.

  He put a hand on Galvin’s shoulder. “No, Galvin, there’s nothing you can do. Only I can carry through the Oracle’s demands, but I’ll regret this for the remainder of my days. If I understood why I could accept it more readily. But I don’t.”

  A slight breeze stirred. Galvin’s jaw tightened as he glanced at the silver dragon. “I don’t know what the Oracle commanded, but know the Maker isn’t cruel. Trust him to the why. You just follow the how.”

  Ren bowed his head, knowing Galvin was right. The Maker didn’t direct him to do this without a purpose. He remembered the saying at the Oracle’s entrance: Everything happens for a reason and in that reason there is divine good.

  He may not understand why he had to do this, he may never understand, but he needed to trust the Maker. As long as he followed the Oracle’s commands all would turn out well.

  Ren drew a deep breath. It was time. He could wait no longer.

  When he turned to face the dragon, his limbs moved on their own accord. Ren felt his entire life flash before him. No emotion he had ever experienced felt as wrong and as terrible as the one he was currently feeling. With each step he took the more his hopes slipped through his fingers.

  The dragon rumbled a greeting. Ren clenched his jaw, trying to find strength to voice the words he feared.

  The dragon’s eyes turned a deep violet as it lowered its head and brushed his hand. Ren tried to force his voice to come but as he stared into the dragon’s eyes it took all of his energy to breathe. Aidan was whole, and once he spoke she wouldn’t be. He would never be able to explain the reason behind his words. He would never be able to tell her how much she meant to him. When he felt his resolve begin to shatter he turned away, knowing his face would betray him.

  Warm breath gusted over his neck as the dragon smelled him. Aidan had seen his face and couldn’t believe the coolness it held.

  He started to talk, telling her he denounced their union. There was no reason, he lied, to have the link now that she was in the dragon. It would just keep him from loving another and having a normal life. He was better off without her.

  He fell to the ground as the dragon bellowed in pain. Markum screamed a warning. Ren felt the intake of breath and tensed for the inevitable fire to storm around him. He didn’t care. He loathed his words, his fate, and what the Oracle had forced him to do. He deserved to die. Maybe this was what Fate had meant when she said he had to destroy his soul. He would welcome it.

  The fire came. The heat seemed to be all around him, but he felt no pain. Nothing could match the pain inside his heart. A gust of wind encompassed him as the dragon took to the air, screaming into the fading sunlight. He would never forget that voice for it wasn’t a dragon’s roar – it was Aidan’s scream.

  Now he could destroy his soul. His soul’s destruction would seem easy compared to what he had just done. Maybe it was better this way. If Aidan felt as much for him as he felt for her she could never bear his destruction. He prayed she would find comfort in the dragon, the most beautiful creature in the Lands. At least the dragon matched her beauty.

  “I love you, Aidan,” he whispered into the grass. Familiar hands touched his back and rolled him over. He heard Markum tell Galvin to heat some water and douse a blanket in order to draw the fire’s poison from his system.

  Aidan had burned him. Ren smiled. He remembered the riddle of the sphinx: Through fields of fire I am made. Yet for some reason he couldn’t recall the answer to the riddle, even though he knew it was important.

  Blackness descended, but before it encompassed him he heard a voice echoing in the darkness.

  “Blind faith,” it whispered.

  - - -

  Sim didn’t know what to do. The emotions he had felt before tore through him once again. But he didn’t want them. He didn’t want them at all. It meant only one thing: Aidan was beginning to merge. Sim could barely hear the Bane’s voice trying to reach her, but Aidan wouldn’t listen.

  The emotions were frightening: love and pain, pain and love. But the pain was more than Sim could bear.

  Foreign liquid oozed down his silver cheeks as Aidan’s emotions riveted through him. His love became more than he had ever dreamed. It was beautiful, hopeful, sensual, and wonderful. It felt like Mezuzah’s warm tongue, a dragon cub’s first step, a waterfall’s spray, and the sun on his back. But the pain was more than he had ever feared. It was without hope, fathomless, eternal, and black. He would much rather have every bone in his body broken, every dragon in the Lands slain, every sun in the universe dark than to feel Aidan’s pain.

  He thought of Ren’s eyes. They were eyes that felt the same tearing pain Sim was now experiencing. They were eyes that revealed a tormented soul.

  Before Sim lost his senses he tumbled to the ground, desperate to tell Aidan what he knew.

  For he knew the truth. He knew.

  Ren lied.

  If only Aidan would realize that in time.

  Chapter 7

  They had ridden hard, stopping only briefly in the night to rest their horses and catch a few moons’ clicks of sleep. They barely talked. They barely ate. They were on a mission.

  When Bentzen had first relayed the story Quinton had jumped into action, thinking what men of war were trained to think - kill.

  Now, after riding for days he had been through every emotion he could possibly feel: anger, hatred, pain, desperation, anxiety, worry, and fear. The fear came whenever he thought about the one possibility he didn’t want to consider. He may never see Marva again. The thought always left him off balance. He didn’t know what he would do without his wife: her smile, her bravery, her stubbornness, and her ice-blue fiery eyes. Those same passionate eyes now haunted his dreams.

  Quinton felt like he was on the spiral of fate, descending to the point of no return. He knew this could be his last ride. He just wished he had been able to tell Ren goodbye.

  But if this was his last ride he would take as many as he could down with him, especially the man who had taken Marva and Renee. He would suffer a thousand times over for what he had done. Quinton had no doubt he would recognize him. He had memorized Bentzen’s description of the man called Ickba. Marva’s captor also plagued his dreams, but in every dream Ickba died screaming.

  They had just crossed the Sierras where they had ridden through a storm of dust and Quinton silently welcomed the dense forests of Zier. He steered his horse to a small cave he used to frequent as a child. It would be a perfect place to rest. Stardom was only a day’s ride away. They needed to gather their strength before they attacked.

  As he broke through the small clearing containing the hidden hollow, he reined his horse to a skidding halt and waited for Michel.

  Michel’s horse bolted through the clearing heartbeats later. Since leaving the others Quinton hadn’t seen Michel in the bright of day. Although they had stopped briefly every night to catch a little sleep, Michel appeared to have slept little, if at all. He looked years older. Quinton had fallen asleep immediately every night. He was trained to do so. Sleep was necessary for strength, and if he had no strength, Marva had no chance.

  “In the midst of battle,” his father used to say, “you must rest.” And it was true. The first night had been difficult but he had managed to do what his father had trained him to do: clear his mind and delve into a dream state.

  As Quinton watched, Michel’s eyes fluctuated between sanity and insanity, and every few h
eartbeats he trembled with the force of the ten winds. Quinton stepped forward, concerned, but when Michel drew a breath the trembling stopped. Quinton relaxed, realizing Michel’s movements could have been from tears. Michel hit his horse’s flank and stepped aside as the horse trotted off to graze. Quinton marveled at how Michel could communicate with animals. The horses he rode were never fettered but were always there the next morning, nickering for his hand.

  Over the past weeks Quinton had surprised himself by feeling the same loyalty toward Michel as he did his prince. Although he had many he called friends he had precious few he felt close to. He was, after all, the captain of Ren’s guard. He needed men to admire him, call him friend, but he also needed to remain objective and slightly distant from each. He didn’t mind. He had always been friend to many but close to few. There was something different about Michel, however, something special. Ren took after Michel more than he did his own father. Quinton supposed that could be the reason he felt an unexplainable bond toward Ren’s uncle. Michel and Ren were of the same mold, both in looks and in beliefs.

  Michel stood in the clearing, back to him, gazing in the direction of Stardom. Quinton’s heart went out to him. He and Marva had years together, one in courting and two in marriage. Michel had only a fleeting heartbeat with Renee, and now, just as a door had opened and allowed him entrance, someone was threatening to take her away.

  “Michel?”

  When Michel turned Quinton had to force himself not to start. His copper eyes were almost inhuman. Their discoloration was far worse than Quinton had first realized. It appeared Michel hadn’t slept in weeks. Quinton was unsure if Michel even recognized him. Quinton took a step back, leery under Michel’s gaze.

  “Michel, we rest here. We don’t move until high moons tonight. We need to be strong and have our wits about us.”

  Michel’s eyes focused. A small amount of recognition crossed his features. Quinton was about to say more when Michel grabbed his bedroll and walked off. Quinton watched him go, the hackles on his neck rising. Michel had been slightly distant since Ista’s camp. Had something happened to him there? The thought was chilling. Just in case, Quinton walked in the opposite direction, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder.