“... forty-one, forty ...”
Lara disappeared into the gloom, and I was alone with the restless monster.
“... thirty-four, thirty-three ...”
One of the wild horses nipped at another who had pushed him away from the water. The dragon shifted its head toward them and the rumbling grew louder. The smoke from the corners of its mouth shot upward.
“... twenty-three, twenty-two ...”
The rumbling took on an edge of brass, tearing at my head until my vision began to blur. I would have sworn that the dragon’s red, leathery nostrils moved.
“... fourteen, thirteen ...”
Frantically I blinked my eyes and willed the throbbing aside. I had to be able to see. The horses cantered one after the other about the pool. What were the words? The nostrils flared wide. Gods. I stepped backward, ready to dive off my platform, but it was almost time.
“... five, four, three ...”
Crusted with jibari, the barnaclelike parasites that grew unchecked until blasted with dragon’s fire, the monster’s head rose up. The long, scaled neck twisted, the mouth gaped wide, revealing the brown leathery tongue. Another deafening bellow sounded, threatening to rob me of my reason. Every particle of my being was on fire. If the dragon spoke in its roaring, I would never be able to hear it. All my skill at listening would be of no use if I was deafened by the pounding of my blood. I could hear only the roar, different this time, a soaring note. Triumphant. Wild. He was free of Lara’s bloodstone. I hadn’t needed to count to know it.
The horses seemed disturbed at last and trotted across the floor of the cave. The dragon’s head moved to follow them, and the nostrils flared again, spewing thin trailers of flame, but despite the sweat that broke out beneath my stiff and stinking leathers, there was no full blast of fire. The horses left the cave, and the dragon shifted its head back to the water and drank again.
Now. The time has come. Take the words and weave into them your memories ... of Roelan and mystery ... of joy and faith . . . of the years of dedication to one who was as a god to you. ...
I raised my right arm. “Teng zha nav wyvyr, child of fire and wind, hear me.” He heard me, though I could scarcely force my voice above a whisper. The head turned toward me, and the cruel, slavering mouth. As I opened my mouth to say the next words, the nostrils flared wide, once, then twice, and the low-pitched rumble changed to hatred ... bestial fury ... death. ... I heard it even before the massive head began to dip.
“Lara!”
As my shout was annihilated by the blast, I turned and leaped from the rock. My hair burst into flame as I sailed downward beneath the arc of fire. Stumbling over the rocks as I landed, I smothered the back of my head with my gauntleted hands, then dropped to my back to ensure no untended spark found a path through the leather vest. A flash of red, boots narrowly missing my head; then Lara was screaming commands from above me. Flame lit the ceiling of the cavern, and the unending screech of the damned threatened to burst my brain from my head. I rolled to the side with my hands over my face and hot drops streamed from my eyes like tears, but they were dark as they soaked into my gauntlets. When silence fell, I struggled to all fours, then straightened and climbed slowly up the rocks.
She sat with her arms wrapped about her knees, beads of sweat running down her scarred cheek, the bloodstone gleaming in her hand. The dragon’s eyes were closed, though remnants of his fury burned everywhere in the cavern.
“What happened?” she said, craning to see the back of my singed hair and charred vest while grinding out a spark with her boot. She wasn’t even out of breath. “I couldn’t see.”
I told her.
“Fool! Why didn’t you call sooner? I told you if the nostrils flared—”
“He didn’t burn the horses. The nostrils flared, but his head never went down. Not until he was facing me.”
“Are you saying the fire was aimed only at you? That the kai knew the difference between you and the horses? Impossible.”
I flopped down on the rock beside her. “That’s the way it seemed.”
“This kai cannot see. It burns what moves, what disturbs it. Even after drinking the water.”
“Except the horses.”
“The horses were quiet. It didn’t know they were there. It aimed at you because you spoke. I’ve brought every manner of deer and mountain sheep, wild pig and goat in here. They squeak and grunt and bleat, and it burns them all. Every one. Every time. The water made no difference.”
“Horses are sacred to Keldar.”
“Nonsense.”
“Bring in the horses again. Wake him again and you’ll see. He knows what’s food and what’s not.”
She glared at me in angry disbelief. “And so it thinks you are food?”
“No. He tried to burn me because he hated me.” Even as I said it, I was more convinced.
“You can’t have it both ways, Senai. Four weeks ago you said it spoke to you ‘with love.’ Today it hates you. What’s the difference?”
That, of course, was the essential question. “I don’t know. The words. The weather. Today he was free of your stone.” My head ached miserably. I was nauseous with the stink of dragon and carrion and the fireproof grease on the leather. The stink ...
“He smells us.” I wanted to shout it out, but my head hurt too fiercely.
“What?”
“That’s the difference. Stupid of me not to think of it. He can smell the difference: horses, deer, pigs ... Riders.”
“We’ve never seen evidence they can smell anything. They burn and kill whatever moves unless it holds a bloodstone.”
“And any Rider who wields a bloodstone—the thing that drives it mad—wears armor like this.” I drew off my gauntlets. “They all smell alike. Who’s to say dragons would kill any human if they weren’t commanded so by their Riders?”
“You’ve no proof. You know nothing of dragons.”
“We’ve no time for proof.” I stripped off my vest and the breeches, the boots, and the greaves. “Wake him again.”
“You can’t mean this.”
“Give me time to wash off the smell.” I jumped down again and dodged a pile of burning bones to find my way to the waterfall. Standing in the shallow pool at its base, I scrubbed my skin and my clothes with handfuls of sand. Lara stood beside the pool watching my antics with angry astonishment.
“You’re mad. Absolutely mad. If it weren’t for the armor your bones would still be burning. They’d hear your screams down in Cor Talaith.”
“If it weren’t for the armor, I’d be talking with Keldar.”
“I won’t do it.”
“Lara”—I stepped out of the pool dripping and shivering though the cavern was not at all cold—“it’s the third day. Your brother will have the legion at our door anytime now. If this is going to happen, if the gods—whoever they are—wish the dragons to be free, then we’ve got to find the way right now. Help me.”
She hadn’t moved, and I was closer to her than I had ever been, close enough to know that beneath her leather vest she was quivering, strung tight as an archer’s drawn bowstring. Her face was carved from rose-colored granite, but her brown hair was shining and I wanted nothing more than to bury my face in it and forget about everything else in the world.
Lara, of course, brought me quickly back to my senses. She shrugged with a muttered curse and turned her back, climbing the red rock tower once more. I watched her go; then I set off an entirely different way, circling the steam pits and jumping cracks in the stone until I reached the edge of the dark pool, twenty paces from the dragon’s head. The water trickled into it from Narim’s stone trough, water stolen from the fiery lake of my visions. I settled myself on the stone and looked up at the copper-scaled head so close I could feel the hot breath from the raw, red nostrils. I did not look over my shoulder. No need. I just raised one hand briefly, then rested it in my lap again and held myself ready.