Dragon's Child (The Mindbender's Rise Book 4) Read online

  If he was going to get free, he had to do it by himself. How many times had he said that before? This time there was no choice. There was nobody here but him and his dragon. And it was going to eat him. Oh, bother.

  The sky turned crimson and mauve.

  The dragon reached the peak and circled the snow-shrouded mountain. A huge crater filled with water and broken ice straddled the summit. Sheer, ice-coated cliffs defended the top third of the peak.

  Could he climb down those walls? Assuming the dragon didn’t eat him first. He wasn’t optimistic on either subject.

  Red wings swooped down into a monstrous cave on the side of one cliff. It landed gracefully, without a jolt to its captive. It looked at Viper critically before setting him on the stone floor.

  Even a sandblasted dragon considered him a disappointment. Still, it might be to his advantage to be underestimated. Maybe it thought he was too small to be worth eating.

  When the dragon’s paw released him, he tried to stand, but to his embarrassment, his frozen legs collapsed.

  With a gusty sigh, the dragon picked him up and carried him to the back of the cave. It curled up into a tight ball, trapping him against its belly with its tail.

  With a second sigh, the dragon fell asleep.

  Hot breath gusted over him, swirling his hair. Viper stared up at the enormous, wine-red head, the only part of the creature he could clearly see.

  If only he had a huge glass of red wine to calm him down. Make that a barrel of wine. He’d need two barrels, one to hide each of its fangs. Fangs that were longer his arm. Once he drank a barrelful, he’d hide inside it.

  Unfortunately, there was no place to hide. Sooner or later the monster was going to wake up and eat him.

  The dragon sighed. Its belly rumbled. Heat radiated from its skin.

  He was hungry, thirsty, and scared sick.

  But finally he was warm all over.

  Chapter 2.

  The team whickered uneasily and danced sideways across the sand, dragging the miswoven wagon with them.

  Lorel sat up and shook the reins. “What’s wrong with you two?” The roans hardly ever acted stupid when the kid was watching. Where was he, anyway?

  Both horses leaned into the harness and kicked, narrowly missing the front of the wagon.

  “Thread-fraying nags.” She tugged on the left rein, hoping to get them back to walking straight. “Behave yourselves! Life ain’t that boring.”

  Ahead, Tsai’s little mare squealed and took off galloping.

  A huge shadow slid over the sand, moving toward her. Fast.

  “Coward crap.” She loosened the reins and wrapped them around a seat strut, leaving the horses free to run.

  The team dug their hooves into the sand and tried to gallop. No way they’d move quick in the mushy sand.

  The wagon swayed drunkenly.

  Lorel turned and yanked up the wagon door. “We got trouble, toad.”

  Kyri-thing slithered closer and curled up on the bench below the doorway. “This one hypothesizes that the hatchling devolves toward an immoderate predicament.”

  “What?” She rolled her eyes at the legless lizard, and struggled to her knees. Wait a minute. That chatter was about the kid. “What! You mean the kid is in trouble?”

  The shadow rolled over them.

  The horses reared and screamed. The wagon jolted sideways. Kyri-thing snatched its head back before the door slammed down on its nose.

  Lorel lurched up, stood on the driver’s bench, and stared over the top of the wagon.

  The red monster dove straight at the kid.

  He froze and seemed to melt into a pile of sand. A ghost of him ran toward the cliff, but his footprints headed toward the ocean. Smart kid. One or the other must be an illusion. That fraying magic stuff should be good for something.

  Except it wasn’t.

  The dragon landed right on the last footprint. It bounced back into the air, carrying something in one big paw.

  Weaver drowned in tears. That wasn’t… That couldn’t be…

  Her heart died.

  The wagon lurched again. The team thrashed against the harness, screaming shrilly.

  Lorel vaulted from the bench and sprinted to the horses’ heads. She grabbed their bridles and yanked their chins down. “That’s enough of that,” she told them sternly. “You’re gonna get yourselves hurt. That thread-snipping monster is gone.” Gone, just like the kid.

  Poppy reared. Periwinkle attempted to back up, yanking Poppy down to her haunches.

  She crooned at them. “It’s gone, you frayed threads. The big bad beastie done flown away. You’re safe now. It’s gone. Settle down. It’s gone.”

  Both horses calmed under her steady voice. They stamped and nickered, but they stopped fighting the traces.

  She stroked each velvety nose and rubbed their cheeks until they both stood quietly. Only when both horses were calm did she rub the tears off her own face. Poor little kid. She’d miss his tangled, honey-colored mane and big black eyes. She’d miss his chatter and his constant hunt for books. She’d even miss arguing with him.

  How could she get revenge on a dragon? How could she even find the blood-woven monster?

  Kyri-thing poked its head under the door.

  Lorel leaned against Poppy’s warm shoulder, wiped her nose on her coat sleeve, and looked up at the slithering toad. “Is there anything left for me to bury? I was too busy to watch that thing… eat… to watch…”

  She kicked at the sand. The words she was thinking wouldn’t come out of her mouth. Poor fraying kid, munched down like a pretzel stick.

  Periwinkle nickered and rubbed his cheek along her arm.

  “Interment of the hatchling is incongruous.”

  Miswoven snake. “Say that in little words.” She pushed away from Poppy, stalked around the horses, and swung up to the driver’s seat.

  Kyri-thing pulled back a few inches and stared at her. It dipped its head briefly. “There are no remains to bury.”

  She closed her eyes. “Shuttle break that monster’s thread.”

  “This one aspires to extricate the hatchling.”

  “What?” She wiped the tears from her cheeks. They couldn’t seem to stop running. “Little words, toad.”

  The overgrown wiggler blinked at her.

  The horses stomped uneasily.

  She untied the reins and shook them, urging the team into a walk.

  In the distance, Tsai rode back toward them. She must’ve had a battle to get Sumach calm enough to turn around.

  “The swordling must reverse its course. Does it not desire to retrieve the hatchling?”

  “Retrieve? You mean, get back?”

  The blood-woven snake nodded.

  “And how do I get back a dead body after the dragon done ate it?” She swung her fist at the Loom-breaker. “You want me to shovel through dragon dung?”

  The slithering toad swayed back, just out of arm reach. “The air lord did not consume the hatchling.”

  Lorel gulped and stepped back. “The dragon didn’t eat the kid?”

  Kyri-thing nodded.

  “He’s alive?”

  “The hatchling lives.”

  That legless lizard was a liar. No way around it. “I don’t none believe you.” She shook the reins again.

  “This one is concomitant to the hatchling. This one would discern if it were nullified.”

  Lorel glared at the slithering toad.

  It added, “– dead.”

  “So the monster carried him off for a midnight snack.” She jiggled the reins and stared at the ocean. “If he ain’t dead now–”

  “This one believes that the air lord perceived the same qualities in the hatchling that this one noticed upon first observing the hatchling.”

  She stared at the snaky toad and tried to work through its longwinded chatter. At least she knew all the words this time. “You mean the dragon saw the kid’s magic?”

  The overgrown wiggler jerked its
head back and blinked. “The swordling is correct.”

  “And you think it won’t eat him ’cuz of his magic.”

  It nodded.

  She jerked her chin at the endless rows of mountains. “You think we can find him in all that?”

  “This one shall always be adroit at descrying the hatchling.”

  “I got the always part.” She shrugged and guided the team inland. They couldn’t get off the beach yet, but she’d take the first pass through the cliffs. “Point the way.”

  Kyri-thing slithered out of the wagon and coiled up on the driver’s platform.

  Tsai raced back to them and reined Sumach in close. “Where’s Viper?”

  Sing to the Weaver that Tsai mostly talked in Zedisti these days. Lorel figured she’d never understand Duremen-Lor words, as fussed as she was. “Blood-woven dragon took him.” She pointed south.

  Tsai gasped and turned pale. “Took him?”

  “The hatchling is transported though the stratoconic array. This assembly shall pursue.” The legless lizard jerked its snout to the southeast. “The hatchling must be salvaged before the draconic entity exhausts its forbearance and masticates the hatchling.”

  Tsai’s eyes crossed and her lips moved while she tried to work through its gibberish. “What did it say?”

  Who knew what it said, but she thought she knew what it meant.

  “That we can rescue the kid.” Lorel shrugged and hoped her friend didn’t notice the tears on her face. “You see a pass ahead?”

  Light glinted on Tsai cheeks when she nodded. “Two. But about the time I saw the dragon, the cliffs started to dip into the foothills.”

  “That’s our best bet, then.” Lorel started to twitch the reins, but changed her mind. The team was likely worn out from running, and there was no way they’d catch up with the kid today, anyhow. “How far away is he, toad?”

  The snake tilted its head and stared into the distance. “The air lord persists in transference of the hatchling.”

  Tsai frowned. “What?”

  “Little words, toad.” The miswoven snake’s little words were hard enough to figure out.

  The legless lizard’s head sank clear down to the bench. “The hatchling’s journey continues.”

  Tsai groaned.

  “That far.” The Loom-warping beast might carry him clear back to Sedra-Kei, for all she knew.

  But how far didn’t matter. As long as Kyri-thing knew where the kid was, she’d find him. She’d rescue him.

  And maybe she’d get herself a dragon hide to add to her fur collection. Any monster that hurt the kid deserved to die.

  Chapter 3.

  Loud rumbling woke him. The whole bed shook.

  Viper tried to sit up, but his body was pinned down by something large and warm. Why was Lorel laying on top of him? “Get off me, you sandblasted lard lizard. You’re heavy.”

  The overgrown pine tree didn’t move. She didn’t even twitch.

  His hand twitched, though. The stitches on his wrist itched like seven thousand gnats were chewing on him. His woolen coat sleeve scratched the shallow cut on his palm, making it itch, too.

  Rumbles rocked his mattress again. He rubbed his eyes and looked around the dim cave. Cave? Black rock walls? Where was he?

  On top of a dragon?

  Thunderer protect him! The noise was the dragon’s stomach growling. He was trapped between its belly and the tip of its tail. His gaze traveled up the length of its belly and chest and long, long neck to wide black eyes.

  The monster was awake and watching him?

  His gut sank to the center of the world. His heart tried to hammer its way out of his chest. Why hadn’t it eaten him?

  Could it be intelligent? For as long as he’d known him, Trevor insisted dragons were smarter than people. Now he’d find out if the old sorcerer’s theory that dragons spoke Old Tongue was right. Maybe it wouldn’t eat someone it understood.

  He took a deep breath. “Please forgive any disrespect, sir,” he begged in butchered Old Tongue. His voice shook so much he couldn’t understand his own words. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Please let me go.”

  “For a start, I’m not a ‘sir’,” the dragon said in perfect Zedisti. Its bone-rattling bass shook pebbles from the cliff along the cavern wall, thirty feet away. “I am most definitely female. You may call me Leysamura. Tell me your name.”

  Of course the first words out of his mouth would insult the monster. “I’m c-c-c-c-called Viper.” The creature spoke better Zedisti than he did. How embarrassing.

  “What an amusing appellation.” The dragon gazed at him steadily. “Yes, I like that. But it is not your name. Tell me your true name.”

  His stomach sank again. “I don’t have a birth name. It was taken me from me when I was declared Outcast.”

  “I’ve only heard such nonsense out of Setoyans. It’s rare to find your bloodline so far from the plains.” Leysamura wriggled into a sitting position and picked him up with both front paws. She brought him nearer to her face and switched to the Setoyan language. “The tribes have the strangest traditions. The fact that you no longer live on the plains does not mean you don’t have a name. Ridiculous notion. Tell me your name.”

  He whispered, “Adoriel.”

  “Speak up, child.” Leysamura held him up higher. “Don’t be secretive. Tell me your name.”

  “Adoriel!” he shouted.

  “Adoriel.” The dragon set him down on the floor. “Adoriel. A good name. Air and fire mixed together. With just a hint of gold?” She touched his tangled hair with one enormous claw. She switched back to Zedisti. “Yes, I am pleased with this name. I believe it will suit you.”

  “It will?” Future tense? Setoyan didn’t have a future tense; that must be why she switched languages again. Wait! He had a future? “As in later?”

  “Obviously.” Leysamura tilted her head. “You don’t fit into it just yet, certainly. But you’ll grow into it.”

  “If you don’t eat me, first.” His heartbeat settled into a steady rhythm.

  Leysamura laughed, and the walls of the cavern seemed to shiver. “You’re too little to eat. I brought you here for my amusement.”

  Oh, now she’d insult him? “First time being little did me any good.” He crossed his arms. “So I’m just a toy?”

  “Indeed.” The dragon’s mobile lips grinned at him. “These are the rules. As long as you remain uncaptured, you shall live. Once I catch you, I will eat you limb by limb.”

  His heart stuttered. Nothing should have a smirk so big. It spread from her fangs clear back to her ears.

  But he was determined he’d least look brave. “Does this go on forever?” He spread his arms dramatically. “I might as well quit now. Eat me, dragon.”

  Leysamura snickered. At least, he thought the noise was suppressed laughter. “Nonsense. I’d tire of you before ‘forever’. The game will end when you’ve completed a task for me. If you’re still alive, I’ll take you to wherever your pretty wagon happens to be at the time.”

  If she didn’t demand he learn to fly, he had a chance to survive. “What kind of task?”

  “I’ll think of something.” The monster shrugged and switched languages again. “From now on you’ll converse in First Speech. I’m not fond of human languages.”

  First Speech? She must mean Old Tongue, since that was the language she was using. She spoke the language differently than Trevor had. Clearer, but with more tonal influences, almost singing. Did the tones make a difference?

  Could Old Tongue – or rather, First Speech – be the dragons’ native language?

  She picked him up, placed him on a shelf twenty feet above the cave floor, and moved her warm hands away.

  Cold swept over him. He shivered and pulled his coat tighter over his chest.

  From this angle, he could see holes dotting the cavern walls. Man-sized tunnels, if the man bent double. Even he had to dip his head to enter the nearest one.

  Leysamura thru
st one paw into a shaft higher on the wall and scratched the stone.

  Spider-footed chills ran up his spine.

  “Explore the caves herein, little Adoriel. The game begins as soon as I have eaten.” She sauntered to the cave entrance and flung herself into the sky. Air whooshed as her wings captured the wind.

  “What an exit.” He shook his head and applauded wryly. That dragon’s showmanship could beat most magician’s.

  But now that she was gone, he could start hunting for an escape route. He slithered down to the main floor of the cavern and limped after her, to the only way out of this nightmare.

  Sunlight blinded him when he reached the edge.

  That was as far as he could go. The mountain wall dropped in a sheer cliff below the cave, and there were no handholds to either side. The top of the opening overhung the lower edge by several feet.

  “So there’s no way in or out, unless I grow wings.” He sighed. Teach him to get his hopes up so easily. “I’d better go learn the floor plan of this game.”

  He climbed the cliff to back the shelf and its tunnels. His stitched wrist burned. His padded boot couldn’t secure traction on the stone. He wound up clambering upward on his good hand and his lone foot.

  He limped several steps into the nearest hole and stopped. It had been dim in the main cavern; here it was storm-cloud black. Beyond, he couldn’t see a thing.

  Exploring would be pitifully slow under these conditions. Feeling the walls for tunnels would take forever. He needed to make a light. If only he could find something to use as a torch…

  He ambled back to the shelf, searching along the way for a stick of wood or cane. Nothing, not even a bone. He studied the floor of the main cavern, but saw nothing usable.

  His will-light didn’t burn anything, anyway. He’d just have to base the spell on his hand.

  He took a few steps into the dark tunnel and sucked in a deep breath. He tried to concentrate, but the fear of the dragon’s return distracted him.

  There was no time for fear. He needed to focus.

  Viper closed his eyes and tried again. He held up his left hand and chanted.

  “Geweorthe leoht, ane glowyinge balle.

  “Ane wel lyht torche moste grasce halle.”

  A cool flame flowed around his fist.