The roan centaur skidded to a halt by the wagon. His coat was muddy and damp, and his sides were heaving for air. “The Tarmaks,” he gasped between breaths. “Didn’t take the bait. They’re not… following the wagon.”
Linsha spat a curse and slammed her fist on the wagon seat. “Where are they?” she cried.
Menneferen took several more deep breaths and replied, “Crucible sent me to tell you. The Tarmaks are marching toward the river in the direction of the volcano.”
Linsha threw up her hands, feeling angry and frustrated. “How did they find out?”
“Crucible thinks they may have captured someone and learned the truth that way.”
The other centaurs exchanged glances. There was only one other scout away from the troop that knew where they were going, and they had not seen him in two and a half days.
“So Crucible knows,” Sir Hugh said. “Where is he?”
“He is going to Falaius to warn him. They must move the army south.”
A wordless groan drifted around the listeners. Their hope of finding rest and food the next day dwindled to nothing.
“And what are we to do?” Linsha demanded. She knew what she wanted to do, but she had volunteered to stay with this band, and she would not abandon them now.
“Crucible said, if you can make it, go to the volcano and wait for him. It is about thirty-five miles from here.”
Thirty-five miles. At the rate they were going, it would take two days—maybe a day and a half if they really pushed.
“Is this volcano warm and dry?” Sir Hugh asked, with the barest twinkle in his eyes.
“Crucible made the nest inside,” Linsha replied for everyone to hear. “It is warm as baked bread and as dry as the desert.”
There was a subtle shift in posture and expression among the whole group. The members of the little company looked at one another and shrugged. Thirty-five miles was nothing when they had already come so far. They could make that final push, especially if there was a warm, dry cave at the other end.
Since there was no longer a need for subterfuge, they shoved the rocks out of the wagon and turned southwest. Menneferen took the lead to find the best path for the wagon. Fortunately, the ground in this area was mostly grassland on gently rolling hills. The way was not difficult, just long and tedious.
Yet they had to hurry. They had to find the volcano before the Tarmaks reached it. If need be, Linsha decided, she and Crucible would move the eggs again to keep them out of Lanther’s grasp. They just had to get there first.
22
Flashfire
Crucible stayed with Falaius, Wanderer, and the rebel army long enough to see them packed and on their way. They had twenty miles to travel over the wetter, more overgrown terrain of the river valley. It was anyone’s guess who would get to the volcano first, but Crucible decided he would be there to welcome whoever it was. He rose over the river on the evening breeze and flew south toward the conical peak he could see jutting up against the darkening sky. He flew swiftly, hoping the small owl he had left to watch the eggs was still watching unharmed. He hadn’t told her that if the dragons hatched they would be looking for food-any food. Perhaps he should have warned her of that.
At first he was so preoccupied with his worries for the coming day that he did not realize that something had changed, something drastic in his own city so far away. Crucible did not know exactly what was happening, but he understood it was vitally important and it was happening in his city. His entire being yearned to return in a desire so strong it made him hurt.
But he couldn’t go. His heart knew that. Even if his wings had been strong enough to fly him to Sanction in one night, he could not leave Linsha and the eggs in the path of Lanther and the Tarmak army. Sanction would have to wait. With a low moan, he turned and flew south again, turning his back on the city he loved.
When he reached the volcano, he found Varia perched on a rock outside the cave entrance. She looked strangely agitated. Her “ear” feathers stood straight up, her feathers were puffed, and she paced side to side, bobbing her head. When she saw him land, she flew to him and landed on his horn.
Do you feel it? she asked before he could say anything. What is happening?
The owl had odd abilities and was very sensitive to the world around her. She, too, must have felt the strange currents in the winds of the world. I don’t know, he told her. But it is happening in Sanction.
We are not the only ones facing battle then, she said.
They were nearly there. Everyone could see the peak standing stark and alone above the plains. Dark patches of pines grew around its base, in sharp contrast to the reddish dun colors of the dried grass and the barren rock. A pale afternoon sun washed the peak in light and set it aglow against the first blue sky the small company had seen in days.
Linsha squinted hard to see a cave entrance or some sign of Crucible, but the volcano looked empty. Of course, they were still about five miles away, and she could be missing something. But it didn’t matter. It was only late afternoon, and it was possible her little group would be the first to reach the peak.
They had certainly tried. Everyone worked hard, taking only two rest stops during the night and pushing themselves to the limits of their endurance. They deserved a good rest, a hot meal, and a dry place to sleep. Linsha just hoped they would get it.
They traveled closer to the peak. The land, shaped by the ancient throes of the volcano thousands of years before, became more rugged around the base of the cone. It rose and fell more sharply into eroded gullies and steep valleys. Weathered outcroppings of rock protruded from the ground like old bones. Without Menneferen to help them find a path, they would have had a difficult time making their way to Crucible’s new cave.
They were only about two miles from the peak when a steep, narrow valley cut cross their path. They took their time angling down the slope and gratefully reached the bottom with the wagon still intact. To their right a grove of pines grew on the valley’s floor and hid the ground in shadow; to their left, a huge outcropping of rock blocked part of their view and hemmed them close to the trees.
Linsha looked up from watching the team of horses as they reached the bottom of the slope and noticed the trees only ten paces away. She glanced to her left and saw the hump of rock. Something small flashed in the sunlight on the stones in that outcropping. She stiffened, every alarm in her head going off. She slammed off the brake that had held them on the hill and reached for the whip.
But she was already too late. Large forms with skins painted blue erupted out of the trees and from around the outcropping and swiftly surrounded the small party. The Tarmaks formed a tight circle around the wagon and its escort and stopped with bows drawn and spears ready to throw.
“Surrender!” a voice called out of the trees.
Linsha threw the reins down and held her hands up where the Tarmaks could see them. Sir Hugh and the others reluctantly did likewise.
A group of five Tarmak warriors came out of the trees and surveyed the prisoners with contempt. “Take the women and kill the others,” an officer snapped in Tarmakian.
“No!” Linsha stood up in the wagon and drew herself up with all the arrogance she could muster. She switched to Tarmakian to make her case stronger. “You will not kill these men. They are my escort.”
The officer looked amused. “Why wouldn’t we? Who are you, woman, to argue?”
“You know well who I am, because the Akkad-Dar sent you to capture me.” It was just a guess, but Linsha figured it was a good one. “I am the Drathkin’kela, the Friend of Dragons, and I am the Chosen of the Akkad. If you kill my escort, I will have no reason not to fight you, and when you have killed me, you will have to report to the Akkad-Dar that you were responsible for my death.”