How are you doing, Srot? Kelnor asked, breaking the silence an hour into their flight. Srot’s wing strokes had been getting slower and more labored the longer they flew.
To tell the truth, I’m beat, he replied, a note of reluctance in his voice. Any chance we can stop somewhere and rest for a bit?
I think we could all use a break. May as well call it for today. Char, Rath, don’t you two have a hideout somewhere around here?
Uh, no, Rath lied, his tone unconvincing.
Char sighed. Yes, we do, but the mage may know about it. It’s where we found Iris.
There’s no way he can make it there on foot before we leave in the morning. Lead the way.
Char pulled up out of Thrak’s slipstream and took the lead position with a few hard flaps. He was tired, too, but nowhere near what Srot had to be feeling after battling the mage’s noose around his neck for several minutes.
He wanted to keep going, though.
But it wouldn’t matter if they made it home tonight or not. Iris had used a lot of magic over the last few days, enough to knock her out yesterday and again today. She wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.
Not that he could do anything to help her, anyway, he reminded himself.
Just so we’re clear, we’ve never used this place to hide out from work, Rath said.
Thrak laughed. Yeah right.
It’s too late, Rath. Kelnor already knows about it, Char told him.
But it’s really new. We haven’t used it much yet.
Can it, Kelnor said, his tone less harsh than Char expected. It was your father’s hideout first. I just forgot where it was.
Srot gave a weak laugh and dipped lower to the ground.
Need a little help? Char asked, looking back over his shoulder at the struggling purple dragon.
I’ll be fine as long as it isn’t too much further.
It isn’t. See that lake? It’s behind the waterfall.
Behind the waterfall, Kelnor repeated. Knew he hid it really well. You said that’s where you found Iris?
Yeah.
Char tucked his wings to his sides as he dove toward the waterfall, the wind whistling across his scales. He spread his wings wide at the last second to slow his descent, then tucked them close again to penetrate the roaring water. His talons scraped across the stone, crunching the charred remains of Iris’ fire, already spread across the floor by their hasty exit a few days ago. Refracted sunlight cast shimmering, watery shadows across the cavern walls. Ice tore through his veins, and he was in human form again, stepping out of the way just as Kelnor entered.
A blast of cold wind blew Char’s hair back as Kelnor transformed into his human form. His red eyes scanned the cavern entrance as he stepped back to make way for Thrak. “She made it this far by herself?”
Char nodded, his black hair blown back again by Thrak’s transformation. “Rath and I came here after the battle. I told him we were lying low to avoid you, and then I went out looking for her the next day. Never found a trace of her, but I brought a deer back, so there’s plenty of food for everyone.”
“Good. I’m starving!” Thrak said with enthusiasm.
Srot burst through the waterfall with a clumsy landing. When the burst of icy wind cleared, his face was haggard. He dragged a hand through his dirty blonde hair. “Can’t say I’m a fan of being a conduit.”
“I don’t know why he needed you. He already had a direct connection to Iris from when she healed you,” Char said, frowning. “Unless the magic school’s barriers were strong enough to keep him from reaching her?”
Srot stepped back just before Rath whizzed by at full speed. “Yeah, that was it. He could sense her there, but he needed her to break through those barriers herself. She was still unconscious, though. He figured she’d wake up if she felt me in pain.”
“Wait, what?” Rath asked, brow furrowed into a scowl as he jogged back to them. “We didn’t hear any of that. What else did you hear?”
“Let’s go inside first,” Kelnor interjected. “Rath, you lead the way. Char, stay here with me. We’ll catch up to the rest of you.”
“Uh oh, somebody’s in trouble,” Rath teased in a sing-song voice.
“Get moving before one of us ends up carrying Srot,” Kelnor barked.
“I’m not that bad off.”
“And get dinner going. Thrak’s cooking.”
Char stuck his hands in his pockets, waiting. The sounds of the others faded away, and finally Kelnor turned his red eyes back on Char.
“Start at the beginning. Everything you already said, everything you left out.”
Char had known this was coming. He took a deep breath and began with the marketplace, his first day in town and his first encounter with Iris. The story wasn’t new to Kelnor, but the way Char told it was. He’d tailored it for Rath and Kelnor the same way, to make it seem like he’d viewed Iris only as a potential worthwhile asset in the war effort.
That had never been the case.
“I talked to the priest on Saturday.” Char dropped his guilty gaze to the cavern floor. “I had what we needed, and I knew I shouldn’t say anything, but it didn’t sit right with me to leave without at least giving him a chance to get the orphans somewhere safe before the battle.”
“You told him about us.” Kelnor’s voice was flat; it was a statement, not a question.
“Yes, I did, but he wouldn’t leave. He said war creates orphans, the church had survived hundreds of years and several wars, and he was staying put. But Iris had promised the youngest girl they’d go to the river on Sunday, and the priest told me he’d ensure they were gone when we attacked.”
“Hm. He knew more than he told you.”
Char nodded. “I wasn’t about to press a priest for information, though. So I stuck around, figured I’d see what else turned up, and some drunken soldiers started messing with Iris, which triggered a bar fight with the regulars. I did not get involved in the fight,” he was hasty to reassure Kelnor, glancing up and seeing his raised eyebrow, “but I pulled her out of it and took her out back before the mage showed up. He cast a spell to stop the fight, and she sensed it was coming before he even did anything.”
Char remembered the confusion and fear in her brown eyes as she looked up at him in that alley. He’d made himself scarce when the barkeep and his wife came to get Iris, but he’d stayed within earshot, glanced around the corner of the building to watch them hug her and take her inside, and then he’d lingered to make sure she got home safe. He couldn’t believe they sent her out alone after that.
It had worked out well for him, though.
“I found out what time she was planning on being at the river, and I delayed our attack until then. My plan was to sneak off during battle, snatch her and the girl up, and hide them here until I could figure out something better,” he confessed. He'd really had no plan past that point.
Kelnor sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “What about the amulet?”
“The priest gave it to her before he let her leave on Sunday. He told her it had been left with her at the church when she was a baby.”
“You and your brother are going to drive me to an early grave,” Kelnor muttered. “And then you found her here.”
“Right there, actually,” Char said, pointing to the spot where she’d appeared out of thin air. “I gave up looking for her early that day. She must have slipped in right after I got back. Rath talked me into going home that night, and we found the remnants of a fire when we were leaving. We must have almost stepped on her. The amulet made her invisible until she moved.”
And Char had only known she was near because he saw a single white magical snowflake, her signature, all that remained of her shields on the battlefield after she fled.
“Alright, I think I have all the information I need.” Kelnor heaved a sigh. “Let’s go inside.”
Char looked back at the spot where he had found Iris. He could see her now, sitting against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest, clutching the amulet in her right hand and scanning what would have been a pitch black cave to her. There had been scratches on her face and arms, tears in the already patched fabric of her dress, cuts and scrapes on her bare feet. Her thick brown hair had fallen in loose waves over her shoulders to touch the cave floor.
Not a sign of her for two days, and then there she was, right in front of him.
He hadn’t known what to do, what to say without scaring her more. Then she’d stood and headed toward the waterfall, toward Rath, who hated human mages with a passion, and he had to grab her. He hadn’t wanted to get rough with her, but she’d fought much harder than he’d expected, and he hadn’t been sure what Rath would do if he got his hands on her first. Nor had he wanted to find out.
“Come on,” Kelnor called back over his shoulder.
Char shoved his hands in his pockets and followed in silence down the length of the cavern and up the spiral staircase.
A mixture of smells hit them near the top: rotting two-day-old food, whatever Thrak was supposedly cooking, and alcohol. Srot and Rath were sitting around the kitchen table, drinking, while Thrak stood over the stove, also drinking. A few stray flies buzzed around the garbage chute.
Char sent a poof of flame down it to kill the smell.
“You can do that in human form?” Thrak asked, surprised.
“He’s always been the magical one in the family,” Rath answered for Char, kicking his feet onto the table and tilting his chair back on two legs. “Me, I just leave it at transformation.”
“What else can you do?” Srot asked.
“I’m no mage,” Char replied, pouring another two glasses from the open bottle on the counter and handing one to Kelnor. “But I can recognize a real mage when I come across one, read their magic, that sort of thing.”
“Like Iris,” Rath said. “Much as I hate to admit it, she isn’t bad for a human mage.”
Srot shoved Rath’s shoulder, sending him toppling backwards onto the floor with a startled shout. “A little respect for the lady who saved my life twice, please.”
“Okay, okay, I get it.” Rath climbed to his feet and set the chair upright again. Fortunately, his glass had been safely on the table. “Why’d you let me be such a jerk to her, Char?”
“‘Let’ you?” Thrak asked, laughing. “He probably couldn’t stop you.”
“You have a nice set-up here,” Kelnor commented, sipping his drink and looking around the kitchen. It was plain but adequate, with counters, cabinets, and appliances carved into the stone and covered with wooden cabinetry. A wooden table and chairs completed the basic kitchen. The rest of the cave was similar: functional and comfortable.
“Nothing is stolen, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Rath said. “I’ll confess to skipping out on work from time to time, but we’re not thieves.”
“Except for that once,” Thrak said, his voice dripping with meaning.
“That doesn’t count. I was only borrowing it.”
“You took it without asking and never returned it. Pretty sure that’s stealing.”
“Wait,” Kelnor interrupted, holding up a hand to stop them. “I don’t want to hear this. Are there enough beds for everybody?”
“Two beds, one sofa,” Char replied.
“You and Rath bunk together, Srot and Thrak take the other bed, I get the sofa,” Kelnor said. “Starting now.”
He left the kitchen with his drink, leaving the other four to continue talking.
Char’s contributions to the conversation were minimal, but at least the others avoided the sensitive subject of Iris. Nobody seemed to want to ruin the mood by talking about what happened on the battlefield—if they could even call it that.
Char tried to put it out of his mind and pay attention to the lighthearted banter as Thrak ruined the food. His cooking skills turned out to be little better than Char’s. The meal was edible, though, and Char choked it down and went to bed, hoping Rath would stay up later and leave him alone.
No such luck.
“So,” Rath said, climbing into bed, “what are we going to do about her?”
“‘We’?”
“Yes, ‘we.’ That mage was flaunting what he’ll do to her if he gets his hands on her. You’re not just going to let that happen, are you?”
Char sighed. “We can’t break her out of the magic school, Rath.”
“Why not? Could be fun.”
“The mage can track her wherever she is.”
“So we keep moving.”
“We can’t fly with her.”
Rath groaned. “You’re making it sound impossible.”
“It is impossible.”
Silence fell for a moment, and Char was beginning to hope Rath was done with the topic.
“Wonder what Kelnor’s going to tell the powers that be?” Rath mused. “He made you tell him everything, right?”
Char sighed again. “Yes.”
Rath yawned. “You’ll have to tell me tomorrow when we go see Mother.”
“I doubt she wants to hear it.”
“She deserves to know before we turn into hardened criminals on the lam.”
Char shoved Rath’s shoulder. “Shut up and go to sleep.”
“Yeah, yeah. Stop thinking logically. Crazy works better for us. Good night.”
“Good night.”
Char interlaced his fingers behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. Rath’s breathing slowed and evened out as he fell asleep, and the algae growing above them dimmed until it finally went dark.
Logical or crazy, he didn’t have an answer.11Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7KRmFLiG1K
