The Hidden Fire (Book 2) (14 page)

Suddenly
his foot caught on something, and he fell headlong into the mud and gore, his
face only inches from a puddle of ray venom.  Tebble stood over him.  He had
tripped Kyric with his own leg chains.

“You
can’t go daydreaming around here,” he said.  “You have to pay attention all the
time or you or someone else will get killed real fast.”

The
heavy drizzle continued the rest of the afternoon.  The pace at the nets slowed
a little, which allowed them to work carefully at the tables.  But there was
one ray that gave a strange quivering shake while they were tying it down, and
a splatter of venom fell on Lerica’s arms.  Her shirt was soaking wet, and the
greenish-white poison didn’t seem to bleed through the cloth.

She
dove for a bucket and swabbed her arms, finding a few specks of venom on one
finger.  By the end of the day she didn’t look very good.

“Are
you getting sick?” Kyric asked her.  “Are you sure you washed it all off?”

“It’s
not so bad.  It just feels like I ate something rotten.”

When
work was done, and they had swabbed the tables and poured buckets of water
around them to wash away the venom, Kyric walked with Rolirra back to the
drawbridge.  He had hardly spoken to her in his waking life he realized — had
hardly even looked at her.  She was thin and moved a little stiffly, her skin
wrinkled, her hair bristly.  Only in her face did he see
his
Rolirra.

What
on Aerth is wrong with me?
 This was the real woman, not that image he saw in
his dreams.  This is the one who is a teacher and a leader to her people, his
travelling companion on the other side, a woman he had begun to feel close to.

He
took her hand and helped her across the slick, rickety bridge.  ‘
You told me
that the rains of the plateau were hard
,’ he said-signed.  ‘
My memory of
it is fading, but I don’t think it was that way
.’

She
nodded.  ‘
There was no storm.  No thunder or lightning.  The
— ‘  She
searched for the proper sign but couldn’t find it.  ‘
The snake of the air
must fly for this to be
.’  She shook her head, frustrated with Cor’el.  ‘
We
must return to the other side tonight.  I can speak of it better when we are
there
.’

They
lay in a bubble of warmth underneath the blanket of moss, entangled in one
another’s arms and legs.  Rolirra stirred sleepily.  Kyric kissed her on the
shoulder to ease her wakening.  He kissed her again on the neck, and she
responded with a sharp intake of breath, turning to face him.  He met her lips
with surprising hunger, pressing his bare chest against hers.

“I
had a bad dream,” he whispered to her.  “I dreamt we were enslaved in a
terrible place.”

She
pulled away.  “The storm dragon,” she said, throwing back the covering.  “That
is why the rain is so mild — the dragon’s flight brings the torrents and the
deluge.  It seems that he is silent or sleeping.  We must climb to the dragon’s
perch and awaken him.”

“I
don’t know anything about dragons,” Kyric said, “but I’ve the feeling that it’s
unwise to wake a sleeping one.”

Rolirra
gave him a mischievous grin.  “The more the anger, the more violent the storm.”

They
cut the blanket in two and fashioned cloaks from it.  It wasn’t moss exactly —
more like a furry flax that repelled water.  They easily coaxed strands from it
to use as ties.  With the streaks of black in the grey, it looked like they had
donned wolf skins.

Rolirra
led him along a gentle rise through the thick alpine forest.  It wasn’t long
before they saw shadows flitting from tree to rock to tree ahead of them, and
to either side.  They were four-legged creatures, and slowly they closed a
circle around the two of them.  Suddenly a few of them charged from different
directions.  They were an impossible combination of mountain lion and bear,
with long sabre teeth.  Kyric and Rolirra stood back to back, sword and daggers
in their hands, but the beasts veered away at the last moment, speeding back
into concealment.

Kyric
waited for another charge, and when it didn’t come Rolirra took the lead again,
moving cautiously, still holding her knives ready.

A
lone lion-bear sprang from a boulder, and when they turned to face it, another
charged them from behind.  Again when they stood back to back, the creatures broke
off their attack and disappeared.

A
few minutes later it happened again.  And again after that.

“I
wonder if they mean to harm us at all,” Rolirra said.  “If they wanted to kill
us, why wouldn’t the entire pack charge all at once?”

“The
bravest ones are testing us.  We are unknown prey and we have teeth of our
own.”  He cut the air with his sword for emphasis.

“No,”
said Rolirra.  “I think they know us very well.  I say they are tricksters and
this is not their true form.  They are here to impede us, to make us lose our
bearings, and they will only attack if we ignore them.”

“What
shall we do?”

“We
must find another way.”

Kyric
snorted.  “How did I know you were going to say that?”

They
started forth again, moving quickly as they could.  Yet another beast ran at
them, but this time Kyric  waited until the last moment to turn and slash at
it.  It dodged away at once and was gone, but two more came behind it and again
they were force to stand back to back.

“I
see a house,” Rolirra said, pointing though the trees.

It
was a stone cottage.  As soon as the creatures retreated again they ran for it,
crossing the threshold and slamming the door behind them.  The place was
empty.  A window stood in the middle of each wall — each paned with glass. 
Turning, Kyric found that the door was gone, replaced by a fourth window.

Behind
one window lay a hellish scene of flowing lava.  Behind another, a quiet
ocean.  A third looked out on a sunny forest, and beyond the fourth window a
mountain of weathered grey stone disappeared into an overcast sky.

“That
is the way to the dragon’s perch,” Rolirra said.  “I am sure of it.”

She
drew a knife and jabbed at the window pane.  It was hard as diamond.  Slash as
she might, she couldn’t even chip it.

Kyric
touched it lightly as he could.  It softened beneath his fingertip, and he was
able to push his hand further into it, meeting resistance when he pushed
harder.

“It
will let you through as long as you don’t try too hard,” he told her.

They
slipped through the glass by the barest of efforts, to stand in the rain at the
edge of the forest.  The lower slopes of the mountain formed shoulders for an
upper part that curved steeply to the near vertical before it thrust its head into
the clouds.

They
scaled the shoulders easily, the way becoming slow and treacherous as they
passed through the layer of overcast, and then they were above it, the sky
clear and blue.  The mountain narrowed to a sheer crag, a grey spike rising to
a dizzying height.  From its peak, branches of lightning fell like a waterfall
into a formation of clear crystals, the only sound a gentle hum.

“The
dragon’s perch?” Kyric said.  “The climb could take days.”

“There
might be a passage behind the lightning falls,” Rolirra said.

They
followed a ledge to the outcropping of quartz.  The air tingled, and all the
hairs on Kyric’s body stood straight up.  Dozens of spiders the color of metal,
no larger than her hand, skittered among the strands of lightning.  There was
no hidden way.

In
the distance, a huge thunderhead grew from the layer of clouds.  It began to
take a form — a human shape, with a great beard framing vengeful eyes and a
cruel mouth.  In one hand, it wielded a long icicle like a spear.

Kyric
couldn’t take his eyes from it.  At last he managed to say to Rolirra, “What am
I seeing?”

“A
creature of frost and mist.  Ice giant.  Cloud ogre.  Name it as you will.”

It
came at them in the posture of a sprinter, but flowing slowly like a cloud. 
The massive head turned, looking down on them with hate.

“We
cannot stay in this place,” Rolirra said.

Suddenly
Kyric felt unsure of himself, and it made him afraid.

“What
are we doing?” he said.  “Why are we even here?  Let’s go home.”

Rolirra
took his hand and looked him in the eye.  “You do not have a home.”

The
metal spiders buzzed as they foraged in the bed of crystals.  The falling
branches of lightning didn’t simply strike and disappear.  They danced in place
for several moments then sent a reverse flash back up the strand to the top. 
One of the spiders leapt onto a branch, holding on with all eight legs, and
when the flash returned the spider was gone in an instant, whisked away to the
summit.

“I
wonder,” Rolirra said, stepping up to the lightning.  She plucked a spider from
the group and held it up to a new-fallen strand.  The spider took hold and
Rolirra tightened her grip.  She disappeared in a flash, streaking to the
dragon’s perch at an impossible speed.

When
Kyric repeated this, it happened so fast that there was little time for
sensation.  One moment he held the metal spider to the lightning, the next a
blurry rush of wind and he stood with Rolirra above the roof of the world. 
They were far above the cloud creature now.  The wind clawed at them.  Overhead,
islands of earth rushed past, carried by currents of air.  It was like great patches
had been torn from the surface of the world and cast into the sky.

The
summit overhung a flat spot, making a shallow cave, and there lay the storm
dragon, imprisoned in a block of ice, not moving, not breathing, its eyes open
in a fixed glare.  They went closer and peered through the ice.  The dragon was
long and sinewy, more massive than a team of horses, its sleek scales streaked
in cyan and black.

“The
cloud ogre did this,” Rolirra said.  “He has the power to cast bolts of ice.”

Kyric
turned.  The creature of frost and mist had broken away from the overcast, and
now rose toward them, raising its icy spear.

“Stand
back,” said Rolirra, taking the last of the firestones from her pouch.

She
struck them together, and as they ignited, threw them at the wall of ice.  They
bore into it with a loud hiss, a hundred cracks running from them in a crazy
pattern.  Chunks of ice began to break away.  From inside came a sound like
thunder and it all fell away to splinters, revealing the dragon.  Its claws
sparked with lightning and a harsh light came into its yellow eyes.

With
something like the sound of laughter, it raised its wings and leapt from the
perch, racing toward the cloud ogre.  The giant moved to aim his spear at the
dragon but was too slow.  The storm dragon sailed past him, throwing chains of
lightning from its talons.  While the ogre appeared to made of the stuff of
clouds, it had ice at its core.  The lightning shattered it.  A thousand icy
shards hung still in the air for a moment, then turned to wisps that drifted
away on the wind.

The
dragon soared and dove, roaring with a thunder that shook the earth.  It
skimmed the overcast, raising dark storm clouds where it passed.  Lightning
shot from cloud to cloud.

“We
should find a way down now,” Rolirra said.

Kyric
nodded.  “What are those big wedges of land sailing past in the sky?”

They
rode in a river of wind made visible by the tiny snow flurries it carried with
it.  Cross-currents ran through the main stream, tearing chunks of earth from
the islands, pushing them out of the flow of air where they would fall back
through the clouds.  Some of the islands looked like they had trees growing at
their edges, others were slabs of solid rock.

“I
do not know,” she said.

The
lightning had flowed from another bed of crystals at the front of the cave, but
when the storm dragon took flight it had ceased.  There was no returning the
way they had come.  Behind the crystals lay the dragon’s hoard — not gold or
jewels, but a scattering of tools and instruments:  gearworks and metal coils, calipers
and optical lenses, an astrolabe, a magnetic spoon, dividers, a clock with some
kind of third hand, and a gadget with a turning crank whose purpose was not
apparent.

Rolirra
picked her way through the assortment of tools.  She found some jars of
tincture and colored powders.

“What
are you doing?” Kyric said.

“Every
dragon’s hoard hides one thing to which the dragon is vulnerable.  If we cannot
find another way down, we may have to compel this dragon to help us.”

“That
sounds dangerous.”

She
reached down and came up with a tiny glass flute.  Cautiously, she sounded one
brief note, and the song of a flight of robins surrounded them.  For a moment they
stood in the light of a warm summer morning.

She
pulled her lips away and smiled.  “I think this is it.”

With
a bellow of thunder, the dragon wheeled and plunged through the cloudbank, and
a black storm broke across the rainlands.  They caught glimpses of it as it
leaped and plunged again like a flying fish.  Lightning rained from its talons,
and Kyric and Rolirra turned away, seeing spots before their eyes.

The
dragon circled and played in the thunderheads, moving farther away.  Looking
for another way down, Kyric found a crevasse on the far side of the summit and
they decided to give it a try.  The crevasse descended steeply and soon ended
in a narrow passage leading into the mountain.  They followed it as it sloped
down towards darkness.

As
soon as Kyric felt ice beneath his feet he tried to stop, but it was too late. 
When he slipped, Rolirra went with him, and they careened down the spiraling
passage, trying not to slam against the corkscrew curves.  It became a
nightmare ride in the dark.

The
passage spit them out into a cavern with a high ceiling, a huge arch opening to
the outside.  They were below the clouds now, and the rain fell in sheets so
great that they could barely see the forest below them.

Kyric limped to the side wall of the
cavern and propped himself there.  He was bruised in a dozen places, and wished
that Rolirra had one more firestone.  She pulled her cloak of moss tightly
around herself and leaned against him.  Outside, the rain fell harder and
harder as the daylight faded.

Kyric
bolted upright with the clap of thunder.  He and Lerica had bedded down in the
driest spot they could find in the smaller group of trees, away from the main
body of Ilven.

Lerica
looked out at the pouring rain, then at Kyric.  “Do you think this will help? 
Do you imagine that Thurlun will simply load his boys into their boat and row
away?  They will kill anyone they can’t take with them.  We’re all witnesses.”

Kyric
rose to his feet, flustered with her.  “Well they won’t be killing us with
firearms at least.  Not even a wheel-lock will work in this kind of downpour.”

His
elbows were sore.  He ran to Rolirra, feeling a little beat up.  She stood arms
wide, her face to the falling rain.

“A
few days of this and it will all be underwater,” he said to her.  She looked at
him blankly.  He shook his head and said it again in Cor’el.  Then he
remembered something from the dream.