Dragon Racers: The Complete Trilogy, page 25
“What?” Kin started in, but grew respectful when he remembered he was speaking before Master Wizard Luumin. “What do you mean easy to cont--”
Sharrah spoke right over Kin, like he wasn’t even there. “You do know about She’en? Is there any word on Meifeng? Or Flame?”
“They are both alive and recouping in a safe place.” His expression turned dour. “In a few days we will get them here, for they will have healed enough to make the rest of their journey. As for She’en, it is a great loss.”
“We’ve much more to talk about father,” Sharrah made a sad face. “I need to bathe. I need food and clean water first. I want to be settled and ready when Azure arrives.”
“And I, upon Malachite’s arrival.” This time Kin spoke over her. “If even half of what King Hotei told me about the Race of the Dead is true, we will need all the practice we can get.”
“We? Is that what they call it? The Race of the Dead?” Sharrah shook her head. “You don’t have a chance.” Before Kin could come up with a retort she asked her father about something that was nagging at her. “What happened with King Travvingto?”
“There is good and bad,” Luumin shook his head. “The good is our agents collected our winnings. It was only half of what it would have been if you’d have won. But not to worry, we have plenty here to keep us going until Hallow’s Eve.”
“And the bad?” Rom asked for her.
“The bad is Hen Huai died in his crash. That and so few people wagered on Kin and Mala, that if Travvingto survived Flame’s tantrum, he might have enough leverage left in his coffers to cause us problems. Ultimately, he only lost half of what he should have.”
“The king asked, Sir Deren and I to force Sharrah out of the race,” Kin bowed his head. “I wouldn’t do it.”
“You were smart,” Sharrah nodded. “And loyal, I guess. There was a sneak listening to us, father, just like you said. What did she call it? A specter?”
“Yes,” Kin agreed.
“It made itself look like me and tricked Inula and Tam.”
“Call me Luumin, dear.” He said quietly. “There may be ears on us even now. It is better we do not speak familiarly in the open, or better yet, at all. We must move along, though. I have an appointment to secure a private estate, with a corral and a place to prepare that is away from the gawkers. Kin, you can earn your keep racing wild wing. It will be good practice.”
“We have a camp set up,” Cholt said to them all. “There is a stream nearby. We need to get away from the portal lest we draw attention to our real charge.” He took the cart handles from Rom, rolled it over to the huge wagon, and started loading the contents.
“Yes,” Luumin agreed. “That is a good idea.”
Sharrah and Rom helped Sir Grady and then the dragons into the back of the wagon. She then climbed on the back bench so she was sitting facing backwards directly behind her father. Kin Kuul sat beside her but she paid him no mind.
There is a whole lot we need to discuss, she thought to Luumin.
Yes, he harrumphed out loud. Like what you did for three days in the Otherworld, and how you managed to save Inula Ki and Tammarand.
All of that, and more. She started to have him explain her being called a Ping Nok, but decided there would be a better time for it.
Tonight, after we sup then. Right now, we need to get moving. I have places to be. With that he tapped the big ox with a flimsy pole, and it lurched them into motion.
Chapter Eleven
The camp was just that. Two oiled canvas tents were set up just above the pebble strewn stream bed in a glade that had been hewn maybe half a season ago. One of the heavily loaded wagons from the keep was there. There was a fire pit encircled with fist sized rocks. Several larger stones and a length of log had been placed around them for seating. It was anything but cold, but still Sizzle blasted the half-charred wood until it caught and the two young wyrms curled up around the flames. Kin helped Sir Grady get comfortable on the log and speculated about competing at Piktalla with the Prydonian dragon racer.
Beyond the camp, on either side of the streambed, there was nothing but lush green forest. On the ride in Sharrah was looking behind them, watching over the dragons and she could tell that no one would just wander up on them. The strange portal was a different matter. It was in a cave that was only a stone’s throw away from a well-travelled looking, hard pack. She didn’t understand how it was any sort of secret. The camp was more secluded. If someone came this far off the road, it was not by happenstance.
“Can I bathe in private?” Sharrah asked Cholt. Her father was already off to do his business. Only this time he was riding one of the four horses that normally pulled the other wagon. Sharrah remembered there being other bald-headed, yellow robed men, when she’d been taken, and at the conservatorium, but she never saw them at Dragon’s Keep. The two who came out of the woods carrying bundles of gathered fire wood in their arms, looked surprised to see them. Or maybe it was the sleeping dragons that made their eyes stay open so wide.
Cholt told them to stack the kindling and go upstream to check the fish traps. One, a fit, dark-skinned young man, nodded. The other man was sweaty and sun burnt. He was twice as round as Cholt, and didn’t have near the height.
“There is a swell right around the bend, to the left there.” Cholt pointed Sharrah downstream. “You will see where it forms a pool deep enough for bathing. I picked all the sharp rocks out of the bottom. Beyond the swell, at the foot of the falls, is a privy. There are linens under the wagon’s tarp at the back. I will make sure no one ventures that way.”
“Thank you,” she nodded. She hadn’t gotten to know Cholt very well, but knew he was her father’s loyal apprentice or acolyte or whatever. There was no doubt he and the others were trying to emulate Luumin’s look. Cholt and Meifeng sailed on his ship, back when Luumin was a pirate captain, before he found the Book of Spells. The whole time Sharrah was training at Dragon’s Keep, Cholt and these others, must have been here preparing for all of this.
She wondered about the fairy folk from the conservatorium. Where was the Qilin now? And where had Inula and Tam gotten off too? She supposed she would find out more from her father later. Thinking about him, and the book he’d given her, Sharrah grabbed her whole bag instead of just a change of clothes. She found a towel and started off to find the pool.
“Where will they sleep?” Rom stopped her, indicating the young dragons.
Sharrah looked around. Cholt was laying out another tent canvas, and it looked like he had a fourth, too. “They will sleep with me in the tent he is erecting, Master Rompart.” Sharrah smiled. “Maybe you could help him while I wash the road grime away?”
“Ahh, yes,” his coffee colored cheeks flushed a deeper chocolaty shade.
“Thank you, sir,” she hurried around the bend before anyone else could stop her.
She undressed and waded into the warm, sun heated water. It was fresh and crystal clear and felt divine against her skin. For a long time she floated, feeling a sun she could see if her eyes were brave enough to take it in. After thinking about it a few moments she decided the warmth of the Sun was another thing missing in the Otherworld. As strangely right as she’d felt there, she felt right in this world, too.
She dunked her head under water and washed and scrubbed her hair with her fingers. She still had the coins she’d earned, so she decided she would either go to Piktalla, or send someone to buy her some soap and maybe some fashionable clothes that didn’t draw so much attention.
The Race of the Dead, she almost laughed out loud at Kin Kuul’s gullibility. All of the hype around each competition was just that. The First Harvest Race, the Solstice Race, the Race of the Dead. They were all the same after the start. She was beginning to understand why you had to win a chalice to be invited to Sky Island. From what she’d gathered from listening to King Hotei, Sir Grady, and Kin Kuul talk, one should probably only be able to race for a chalice by invitation as well.
She was curious about what racing wild wing meant. Once again she found herself envying Kin Kuul, for he would get to find out, and earn his way doing it. All while she spent her time studying the Book of Spells. Thinking about the book brought her out of the pool. She toweled herself dry and dressed in the practice clothes Niu made for her.
She found a place to sit and dug the Book of Spells out of her pack. The words of the enchantments hadn’t revealed themselves to her eyes anywhere but in her father’s library at Dragon’s Keep, and she was curious if they would still be there, or if the story of brave Callaver De’Vein would be inked on the pages instead. She hadn’t finished Callaver’s tale yet, and as much as she needed to keep going over the spells she found she half hoped his story is what she would find.
She was disappointed, but only slightly. The page the volume opened on was a basic spell of detection. By reciting the strange words, she would be able to tell if there was magic around her, or if an object she was holding was enchanted, such as a ring or a staff. The description of the spell went on to say that more practiced casters would be able to sense the good or evil nature of what they detected, and possibly even the intent of the enchanter.
Sharrah recited the words once, but nothing happened. She did so again, taking more time to try and pronounce them correctly. Still, she detected nothing. The third time she tried, a wave of nausea washed over her. There was magic all around. Most of it was flowing out of a large portal, different from the one they’d used to get here. This made sense, for the whole reason they left Prydonia was because the portal’s power there was fading and the Qilin needed the Otherworld radiance to survive. Power was trickling out of the gateway she’d just come through, too. She sensed her and the dragons’ trail through it and suddenly understood that was how the alarming magical being she sensed directly in front of her had followed her right to the pool.
Sharrah opened her eyes and gasped. The Book of Spells was closed at her feet. She was sprawled back as if she’d been sleeping. Before her was Anshi’s construct. She’d seen him before in the hedge maze. The little boy resembled the grim dragon racer King Travvingto had wanted them to let win, but from a time before he had his head tattooed black and blue with his wyrm’s dark blood.
“He sent assassins of the sort you won’t expect,” the boy said. “If they find you, as I have, they won’t hesitate to kill you all.”
Chapter Twelve
A streak of yellow energy shot across the afternoon like a bolt of lightning. Sharrah looked for the source and found Cholt seething from the release. Dark Anshi’s construct was consumed in the conflagration and fading, leaving Sharrah confused as to why he’d warned her, yet again.
“It is fine,” she held a hand out. “He’s gone, Cholt.”
“I never liked that grave son of a dog,” Cholt heaved a sigh. “He is what he is, though.”
“And what is he?” Sharrah asked before Cholt could leave. “What is Anshi to me?”
“You will have to ask your father,” Cholt dropped his head.
“You mean, Master Luumin,” Sharrah corrected him. They weren’t supposed to be speaking of their relation openly, especially with spying constructs and so much magic hovering about.
“Yes,” he smiled. He looked relieved she wasn’t pressing him. Instead she asked him a question he could probably answer without her father’s permission.
“What is racing wild wing?”
“Almost every night here they have competitions in the Outskirts,” Cholt explained. “The circum is far shorter than Prydonia’s, and they have to go three times around to win. The racers are mostly unbonded, and their dragons young, wild, and still in the process of being trained. The purses are not very appealing, and a good number of the competitors end up mangled or maimed, but by the Gods they are exciting.”
“Can I race wild wing?” she asked.
“You could, but not with Azure,” he shrugged. “Mala is smaller and still young, but Azure is no spring chicken. I doubt my master will allow it.”
“Why not?”
“Because Piktalla isn’t nearly as civilized as Prydonia, and according to Anshi’s construct, there may be people looking for you-- us?” Cholt gave another shrug as if he wasn’t so sure those were the reasons her father would cite. “Besides, it really isn’t worth the risk of getting you injured, or worse.”
“So you heard what Anshi’s construct said?”
“I did,” he blushed. “I wasn’t eavesdropping or anything,” he defended. “I sensed you practicing your spells, and then felt his presence. You are my charge until your fa—Until Master Luumin returns.”
Just then, Kin Kuul and Master Rompart came jogging up behind Cholt.
“Is she alright?” Kin asked, true concern plain in his voice. Then he saw her putting her book back in her bag and shook his head. “I’ve been waiting and waiting to use the privy, and you are over here lounging around reading? Bah.”
He stormed past her and started down the embankment that led to the base of the small waterfall behind the pool.
Sharrah shouldered her bag, grabbed the linens she’d used, and followed Cholt and Rom back to the camp. She was surprised to see five tents erected now. Cholt showed her which one was for her, and she chanced a peek inside. It was roomy enough for her and the twins.
She sat her things inside and called the young dragons over to inspect it. Lightning flickered from not so far away and the following thunder rumbled long and low. A few fat drops of rain found them. Then came the downpour.
“Get in,” Sharrah urged Sizzle and Scorch past her. “Hurry now.”
She saw Rom and Cholt enter another tent, and heard the slapping of footsteps coming from both upstream and down. She ducked herself inside her shelter and sat down, but left the flap opened enough she could keep her eyes on the others. Kin squeezed into a different tent. She saw Sir Grady was already inside it. Then came not two but four, yellow robed men. One of them had a stringer of trout dangling from his hand, and looked unsure what he should do with it. He ended up getting drenched while hanging the catch from a tree, but when he was done he found one of the original tents and joined his three fellows.
Sharrah hoped her father wasn’t caught in the weather. He hadn’t looked all that well when he left. He’d been dead, or nearly so, just a handful of days ago. The last thing he needed was the sniffles or a cough.
Sizzle put his head in her lap. She knew it was him before she even looked at the small notch in his nostril. She remembered the dream in which she and the twins were frolicking through the sky. The moment she realized she didn’t have wings, and that Sizzle’s wings were malformed, she and the poor little dragon started falling.
She tried not to think about it, while stroking his warm, scaly head and neck. She wasn’t sure if he remembered and again, didn’t want him to get discouraged. Scorch waited until she scooted out of the opening to vie for her attention. Before long the baby dragons were lazing on each side of her. She decided to study some more. If she wanted to win a chalice, and then a kingdom, she would need all the arcane help she could get.
She read and reread the words to the detection spell, and then went back over the words to the spells that allowed her to make light, and cause a spark. Then she put the book away and recited from memory the words it took to move an object from one place to another. With it she tossed river stones from the swelling bank out into the fast flowing water.
She was startled into a panic when her father stuck his head in the flaps and nearly butted her head. The dragons must have sensed the man, for had it been anyone else in their group they would have been blasted with small jets of fire breath.
Throwing stones with magic? He asked with his mind. I suppose that is a good way to practice.
I used the spell to unfastened Kin’s cape in the race and guided it back to cover Glade’s snout and eyes, she boasted.
Good. He eased his way in and sat with a groan. “We won’t have to stay out here long.” He spoke audibly. “Now tell me how you came across King Hotei and Queen Komandra. Was it she who saved the fae?”
“It was,” Sharrah nodded. Then she made a serious face. “I need to know why the Icari called me a Ping Nok, father. Why did my mother need the Otherworld’s essence to survive? Why would she stay away until she died from the lack of it?”
“The Icari?” he asked, ignoring her queries. She still hadn’t gotten used to seeing his honey brown eyes. At the moment they conveyed a fierce hatred, and a deeper look of sadness. “How did you come across the Icari?”
“No,” she tried to sound as firm as she could, even though she was on the brink of bursting into tears. “You will tell me the truth of my mother, not change the subject. And about why Anshi keeps warning me of dangers. Who is Anshi to me? To us?”
Luumin let out a long slow breath and closed his lids. “I suppose it is your right to know,” he nodded. “I had hoped to have more time to ponder and pick my words before we had this conversation. Now that the Qilin and my fae are safe here, I guess it is time.”
Chapter Thirteen
Luumin made himself comfortable. “I suppose the best place to start is the beginning.”
“It is,” she agreed.
“But,” he forced a grin. “For this telling I will start with finding the Book of Spells, and the Qilin. And before I do that, I must cast a blanket of silence around us, so no one else can hear.”
She nodded and watched him mumble out a spell. When he was done, the hairs on her arms were standing tall, but she could detect nothing else.
“You mustn’t tell anyone any of this, Sharrah, and I can only hope King Hotei and those elves you came across in the Dregs didn’t sense your heritage. Kin, Cholt, even Meifeng might have suspicions, but they cannot have direct knowledge of anything I’m about to tell you. This is more for their own good than anything, I assure you.”
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