But the barbarian had his eyes screwed tight shut. His whole body was tense beneath Kheda, shuddering like a man in a fever. The flames burned ever brighter, ever hotter, and the roar of the dragon filled Kheda’s ears. He let go of Dev’s hands. They fell loosely on to the wizard’s chest. Kheda braced himself with one hand on the wizard’s breastbone and reached for his dagger with the other.
If the beast is seeking Dev’s fire, his death will put an end to that.
Better yet, cut his throat. You can tell anyone who saw the fire it was the dragons work. There’ll be no one to gainsay you.
Yes, but who’s going to save all of us here, never mind Risala, Itrac and all of Chazen, from this new magic if Dev’s dead?
Kheda let the weapon fall and wrapped his bare hands around the wizard’s throat. He gripped, hard, the knuckles of his forefingers digging into Dev’s lined, sun-toughened neck just behind the angle of his jaw. Dev went limp beneath him and the flames vanished in the blink of an eye. Kheda looked around—tense, poised on his knees—to see where the dragon was and what it was doing.
It had stopped dead, scouring up a rut in the sand with the violence of its halt. Head swinging from side to side, its tongue continued that ceaseless flickering in the air. Its eyes shone with a crimson fire, searching the forest’s edge. The blood hammered in Kheda’s head, inheld breath a choking fire in his chest, hands and forearms scorched and sore.
The dragon continued to look from side to side, gaze sliding over the bushes that concealed the two men. All at once it sprang upwards, vast wings unfolding and beating against the air with a deafening clap. As it soared overhead, Kheda looked up to see the dark lines of the creature’s bones through the leathery wing membrane when its flight momentarily blotted out the sun. Impossibly swift, it rose through the sky and disappeared over the hillock of the island.
Dev stirred beneath him, throwing Kheda off with a convulsive heave of his hips as he coughed. ‘Good thinking,’ he commented grudgingly as he rubbed at his neck with clumsy fingertips.
Kheda got to his feet, peering up through the sparse trees to search the fragmented clouds for any sign of the dragon. ‘Is it coming back? Where’s it gone?’
After the ships? Would it attack a trireme? What about a lesser boat? Risala, where are you? ‘I’m not inclined to try finding out,’ rasped Dev, now sitting up. Not with magic, anyway.’ A rustle in the bushes startled Kheda. It was three swordsmen, muddy-faced with tenor.
‘Go and gather everyone together,’ the warlord barked. ‘Stay under cover as best you can. As soon as we’re all together, we’ll head for the far side of the island, to see if we can signal to the Green Turtle and the Lilla Bat. Don’t forget to keep your eyes open for those cursed traps,’ he added.
The three of them just stood there, slack-jawed and uncomprehending.
‘Go on!’ Kheda urged.
His commanding tone reminding them of their duty, they turned and disappeared into the trees. Kheda heard other voices behind him, those who’d fled into the trees making themselves known now that his carrying words had put new heart into them. Twigs and leaves cracked and rustled as people began pushing their way towards him.
Kneeling to retrieve his fallen dagger, Kheda pushed his head close by Dev’s. ‘Your magic got away from you, mage. That happens again with anyone else at hand to see it and we’re both dead—and not just because it looks as if the dragon can sniff out your fires. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just kill you and have done. You said wizards can summon those beasts. What else do you know about these evils? Quickly, before anyone else might hear!’
‘I’m sonny, my lord, but I know precious little about dragons,’ said Dev sourly. He paused to blow on the backs of his raw and weeping hands to cool the pain. ‘But I do know someone who knows a cursed sight more than most.’
Chapter Six
Velindre, come in.’ The man opening the age-darkened oak door was at least half a head shorter than the tall, blonde woman he welcomed.
‘Cloud Master.’ She inclined her head, face expressionless as she swept across the threshold. Her firm chin was held high, the long plait of her golden hair falling straight as a rule down her spine.
‘Rafrid will do. This is all quite informal.’ He was quite possibly twice as broad across the shoulders as his visitor, with a barrel chest for good measure. With his long back, the way he belted his blue woollen tunic under his paunch made his grey-breeched legs seem incongruously short. The hobnails of his sturdy leather half-boots had scarred a path across the polished floorboards from the door to the table laden with books and parchments, and from the table to the tall triple-mullioned window on the far side of the room. The sky beyond the diamond-shaped panes of glass was the same soft grey as the narrow slivers of the stone walls visible between bookshelves burdened with scholarship past and present. The man’s eyes were a harder, flinty grey, age and experience lining his brow and dusting his dark hair with silver. ‘Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to take the chill off the day? A little wine or cordial? A tisane?’
His manner was brisk rather than solicitous as he gestured towards the modest hearth where a polished copper kettle hung on an iron spar ready to be swung over the self-effacing flames. An oil lamp glowed golden on the table even though it was barely midday.
‘Thank you, no.’Velindre took a ladderback chair from an irregular circle of mismatched seats. She set it between the table and the fireplace on a rug whose pattern had long faded into obscurity. Sitting with her back straight, she folded her hands in the lap of her indigo gown, its full skirt cut short enough to avoid the worst of winter’s mire. As she crossed her long legs neatly at the ankles, her black leather boots, finer sewn than Rafrid’s, showed that she’d been through a succession of puddles on her way there. ‘You know why I wanted to see you.’ Rafrid sat in his own round-framed wooden chair, shoving at the cushions behind him as he looked expectantly at Velindre.
She laced nail-bitten fingers together, knuckles whitening. Not really.’
An angled crease between Rafrid’s grizzled brows deepened. ‘If you’re as unforthcoming with the apprentices, I’m hardly surprised I’m hearing complaints.’
‘From whom?’ A faint blush highlighted Velindre’s angular cheekbones and she silently cursed her fair complexion. ‘Excuse me.’ Standing, she moved the chair a few paces from the fire and sat down again. ‘I’m a little warm.’
‘And you one of the most talented mages born to command the air here in Hadrumal?’ Rafrid wondered sardonically. ‘I find it difficult to believe that you can’t keep yourself cool.’
Velindre folded her arms tightly across her modest bosom. ‘If you won’t tell me who, you might tell me what’s being said about me.’
‘You spend very little time with the new apprentices compared to the other mages of your standing.’ Rafrid leaned back in his chair, tossing a battered patchwork cushion to the floor. ‘And I gather that any of the more experienced apprentices making a formal request to study with you as your pupil can expect refusal without explanation or apology.’
‘There are plenty of wizards keen enough to nursemaid the new anivals.’Velindre shrugged one shoulder, her face impassive. ‘I’ll take on any apprentice with two or three years’ learning to steady their affinity who comes up with a course of study I consider worth pursuing.’
‘You’re not excused from your responsibilities just because others are more mindful of all they owe to this island and these halls of learning,’ Rafrid began sternly. ‘We all have our own magical interests to pursue. It’s not the business of other wizards to give you the leisure to concentrate exclusively on your own studies.’
‘I am fully mindful of all I owe to Hadrumal and my fellow mages,’ Velindre said frostily. ‘I have lived here all my life.’