Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) (7 page)

As the sky lightened she searched for a hiding place. Fear almost caused her to run. She needed to find a spot where predators couldn’t reach her. She searched her memories for possible dangers. At home dragons had controlled the wildlife. She hadn’t seen or heard about wild animals from the women. The wizards didn’t hunt for other than the wild cattle near the citadel.

She studied the area ahead of her. A tree would be best but she lacked the energy to make the climb. Finally she found a place where three trees formed a small nook between the roots. She crawled inside and settled to sleep.

* * *

Dragon roused. How long had he slept this time? He lumbered outside the cave system. With relief he saw the weather hadn’t changed. Three days of feasting on roe deer had caused the deep sleep.

Lorana.
He opened his mind. When he found her asleep, he realized she was no longer in the citadel of the wizards. She slept surrounded on three sides by trees. Could he protect her from afar? She was too close to the citadel for him to go for her.

Inch by inch he searched the area. Slinking toward her he saw a lepcat. The sly feline liked to hunt by stealth and store its kills in trees.

Dragon sent his image into the cat’s head.
‘Leave her. She is mine.’

At first the creature resisted. Dragon sent his message again and again. The feline departed. Dragon settled to keep a watch on Lorana.

Chapter Four

The next morning after breaking his fast, Arton sat at the table in the front room of his suite. He recalled his conversation with the guard about Lorana’s escape. If everyone remaining at the citadel had been questioned under the wand, she had found a way to leave the citadel on her own. How had she learned a way to bypass the guards?

He settled back and thought of the hareem. The women who resided there were able to move about the gated courtyard. Some of the women prepared the meals. Others made clothes from dragon skin and cloth.

He had seen Lorana stirring kettles, making the cordial and the fyrethorn poison for trade. She’d had access to the storeroom. Could she have used the door into the main part of the citadel and found a way over the wall?

Impossible.
The door was barred on the outside with a heavy plank. If any guard or wizard had removed the bar, he would have confessed when questioned. There must be a hidden passage in the storeroom. He needed to explore and use one to see if he could discover her secret.

He rose and walked to the door. As he was about to leave his suite he heard Cregan’s sharp-pitched voice. Arton opened the door a crack. His rival walked with one of Mecador’s council supporters.

“Have no fear. I will win the seat.” Cregan said.

“How can you be sure?” the man asked. “You have no knowledge of the next test.”

Cregan laughed. “My father will prepare me. He wants this to look like that adopted mongrel has a chance. Look at the way my father added two slaves to my total. If he hadn’t, Arton would have two points and needed just one to win.”

“How true.”

“I’ll win the next test. Then we’ll duel with wands.”

Arton grimaced. When they used their wands Cregan’s chance of winning was good. Arton’s spirits sagged. Blocking the auras of power from all the stones often drained him. He must build his tolerance.

The older man halted. “What about the white flames shooting from his wand on the day of his poisonings?”

“Must have been a fluke. I will win. I am of the pure blood. Allowing a mongrel to be part of the council is wrong.”

Arton waited for the pair to vanish. His thoughts turned to the events of the clan gathering and Cregan’s wild attack on the clansmen after the bouts ended. That had been the first time Mecador had chastised his son. There were customs to be followed in meeting the clans. How long would the chief wizard follow the customs?

Arton fingered his pouch. He returned to the table and spilled the stones in a leather tray. He studied them by color. With one of the yellows in his hand he explored the contained power. Did the yellow always produce light? Why had the wand and the stone become ashes in an instant? The wythe had burned first rather than the stone dying. He dropped the yellow into the tray and scooped all the stones into his pouch.

While he wanted to experiment with the colored fyrestones and different kinds of wood, now wasn’t the time for exploration. Only when he became a council member would he speak of his discovery. Until then Mecador could try to force him to reveal the secret.

He opened the door into the hall. One of the fledglings tore down the hall toward him. “Chief Wizard Mecador waits for you in the workroom.”

“What does…?” Arton groaned. The boy dashed around the corner before he could ask more. What did Mecador want? There’d been no mention of Cregan. Was this about the challenge, or something else?

He strode along the corridor until he reached his destination. He paused in the doorway. Mecador paced from one side of the room to the other barely missing a collision with tables and deftly avoiding the chairs. When Arton stepped inside, Supreme wheeled to face him.

Arton bowed his head. “I’m here in response to your summons.”

Mecador walked to Arton. “How did you manage to tie my son? You aren’t one of the blood, yet you have gained mastery of the wand.”

Arton stared at the chief wizard. “My mentor taught me well. He was pleased with my progress.”

“What troubles me is your strength. The energy you sent into your wand after the poisoning is strange. When a wizard is injured, the power usually does not strengthen. Then there was the blinding yellow light you emitted at the oasis. How do you explain those anomalies?”

“I have no explanation. Maybe fear gave me added power.”

Mecador stepped back. “If you can use fear as a catalyst, you can defeat any of the council members except me.’ He turned and walked away. “Sit and wait for Cregan. When he arrives you will learn about the next challenge.”

Arton settled on a chair in a dark corner of the room. The chief wizard’s compliment surprised him.

Cregan dashed into the room. “You must name me to the council seat today. This competition is futile when you know I will win.”

Mecador crossed his arms. “You do not command or tell me what to do. I may be your father and mentor, but I won’t break all the rules for you.”

“You owe me that seat.”

“I do not. Like any other wizard you must earn your place. You may end up a man of the second rank. I’ve given you a chance to be one of the first rank.”

Arton rose from the shadows and approached the pair. Did Mecador fear his son’s ambition?

Cregan whirled. “What is he doing here?”

The chief wizard’s brow wrinkled into a scowl. “He’s here for the same reason as you are. To learn about the next test.”

“Let us begin.” Cregan pulled a wand from his sheath.

“Put that away,” Mecador ordered. “This isn’t the time for a duel of wands. There is no reward for the winner. The other possibilities among the girls in the hareem are too young.”

Cregan sheathed his wand. “Go to the clans and find one who is the right age.”

Mecador grasped his son’s shoulder. “You do not give orders. Would you have the clans rebel before we are ready to make our conquest of them complete?”

“If they fight they will lose.”

“Perhaps, but there are hundreds of them. Once before, the wizards tried to conquer a land and were nearly destroyed by the number of opponents. Not all wizards would survive a battle. Our numbers have dwindled since the days when we landed here. This is your next test. You will leave the citadel. Search for Lorana. He who brings her back will then have two points.”

Arton drew a deep breath. He now knew why his rival had been given extra slaves to trade. He should have won with the traders and held the advantage. He vowed to take Lorana. “Where do we look?” He had no desire to spend a lengthy time with Cregan.

“You will choose your destination. Remember, she must remain untouched.”

“What if she fights?” Cregan asked. “She could have cuts and bruises.”

Arton held his laughter inside. “That’s not the untouched Supreme means.”

Mecador laughed. “Your rival is smarter than I thought, my son. Think about what I mean. One of you should go to the desert and the other to the mountains. Decide which area will be yours. I look forward to showing you how to tame your reward.”

Arton watched the older man retreat. He turned to Cregan. “Desert or mountains. Your choice.”

Cregan leaned against the wall. “Since there are clans on the desert and no one living in the mountains I think she’ll go to where she believes she’ll find help. Desert is my choice.”

Arton nodded. “I’ll travel into the hills.” He strode from the room to plan his supplies.

In the suite he slid all his fyrestones into his belt pouch. He used his knife to clean several pieces of fyrethron so they could be used as wands. He opened his travel pack and added his second set of tunic and trousers plus some socks. He rolled a blanket and fastened it to the pack’s bottom. Carrying this he strode to the storeroom. He lifted the bar and opened the door. With a lit taper he walked the rows to check the walls for secret doors. He found no sign of one. His fingers lingered over the carved dragons on the far wall.

With a shrug he returned to his pack and filled a sack with a variety of dried foods. He selected two more knives, a lidded cooking pot, and a metal cup to fasten to an empty water flask.

Cregan strolled into the room just as Arton fastened a bow and a sheath of arrows to the pack. “Planning to hunt?”

“I may need to. No people live in the mountains and there is only so much food I can carry.”

The other man laughed. “The clans will provide all I need. If they refuse, a few touches of flame from my wand will persuade them.”

Arton walked to the door. Would the clans be at the oasis where the gatherings were held? From what the guards had said they only came there in the spring and autumn.

He carried his pack to his room. There he picked up his cloak. Soon the cooler night weather would chill the days too. He checked the items on his belt. With quick steps he walked to the gate. The sun stood at midday. He could cover a few miles before the sun set.

* * *

After his meeting in the storeroom with Arton, Cregan returned to his suite to plan for his trip. He listed supplies on a slate and opened a map that showed part of the desert beyond the oasis.

He left them on his bed. He could pack and leave now but why rush? He wanted an evening meal and to break his fast with a hearty morning meal before leaving. He stretched on the bed. The light Arton had produced with his wand intrigued him. How had his rival sent the blinding yellow light into the air? White wands usually created a ray of that color.

Shame they couldn’t travel together. That would give him time to learn Arton’s secret. In the morning as they ate, he would make that suggestion.

At the morning meal Cregan learned his rival had left the afternoon before. Could he catch him? Anger stirred. Why hadn’t he realized how tricky Arton was? Cregan finished his meal and dashed to his suite for his pack and cloak. He scurried to the storeroom and found Mecador waiting at the barred door.

Cregan grinned. “Come to see me off?”

“And to make sure you’re the winner,” Mecador said. “Your choice of the desert is the wisest one. She can find help among the clans. You must be careful when you take her. If the clans refuse to turn her over return, we will go as a group and destroy their families and bring her back.”

Cregan smiled. So there was a plan to force all clansmen and women to serve the wizards. “What if I don’t find her?”

“You will. I have faith in you. Walk to the gate with me.”

“I have to gather supplies.”

“No need. You’ll soon see why.”

Cregan strolled beside his father. When they reached the gate he saw a burden beast loaded with packs and water bags. The gray equine looked sturdy. “Thank you.”

Mecador patted Cregan’s shoulder. “There are provisions enough to last until the moon returns to its current phase. Don’t trust the clansman. Observe them in secret. They could kill a wizard who travels alone. How many wands do you have with you?”

“Four and the makings for another pair.”

Mecador handed Cregan two more. “A gift. Return after one full moon cycle. If you don’t find her, we will go in the spring with a group to capture her.”

He grasped the lead rope. “I will succeed.”

Mecador turned to the gate. “Be safe. Return in triumph.”

Cregan led the equine along the road leading to the oasis. The grass along the sides of the road and in the distance showed signs of the changing season.

The trip went faster with no elderly men to slow him. The road of beaten earth was straight. Until he neared the first of the heaps of rocks, the scenery consisted of grass, occasional bushes, some stunted trees, and the distant bovine herd.