With a Dragon's Heart Page 3

  The sun grew higher in the sky, and the others began to stir. Dela sat up, rubbed at her eyes with her hand, and then grimaced and looked down at her black encrusted skin.

  She wrinkled her nose. “By the Gods, I stink.”

  Warsgra held back a smile. At least he wasn’t the only one.

  Orergon and Vehel also woke, stretching out stiff limbs and rolling their heads on their necks to flex their spines. The hard ground, even with the layer of fallen leaves and mosses, hadn’t been gentle on any of them.

  Warsgra nodded in the direction they needed to go. “I’m sure there will be water to the west. Look how green it is.”

  Orergon moved to push his hand through his hair and grimaced as his fingers met with nothing but hard crust. “I’m sure you’re right. It wouldn’t be so green unless there was a good water source nearby.”

  “It might be underground,” Vehel said from where he sat, his arms hooked around his shins.

  “Even underground water needs to come out somewhere,” Orergon replied.

  Dela’s tongue sneaked out as though to wet her lips, though her lips were left dried and cracked. “I hope it comes out sooner rather than later. I feel horrible. My brain feels like it’s thumping against the inside of my skull.”

  Warsgra frowned at her in concern. “Are you all right to walk?”

  She smiled, but it was forced. “Of course. I didn’t say there was anything wrong with my legs.”

  He grinned back at her feistiness, but they were all struggling, and things would only get worse unless they came across water soon.

  They gave Dela some privacy to relieve herself behind the trees, and then the males took their turn. The Norcs tended to use their piss to mark their territory back in the Southern Trough, but he didn’t think either Orergon or Vehel would appreciate him spraying all over the tree. He held back a smirk at the thought. Vehel in particular would turn up his nose, though Warsgra’s initial dislike of the Elvish prince had faded. Warsgra had at first believed him to be spoiled and soft, but so far during this journey it had been Vehel who had stepped up and saved them. He got the impression Vehel’s family didn’t think much of him—and Warsgra had seen it for himself, too, in the way the other Elvish riders in the Southern Pass had treated him—but so far Warsgra didn’t think the prince had done anything other than things that would make them proud ...

  That was if they ignored the whole ‘breaking the Treaty’ part, of course, but then even that would hopefully prove to be a good thing. He knew Dela hated the idea of war, but Warsgra had been named after it. In the Norc’s ancient language, his name meant, Man of War. It was a tongue that had long faded out of existence, but a few of their older names remained.

  With each of them having done what they needed, they set off in the direction of the westerly part of the northern coast. From their vantage point on the side of the ridge, high on the fire mountain, they’d been able to spot the sea peeping through the range. But here, on lower ground, the ocean felt like a long way away, and they still had some distance to travel. Warsgra wasn’t even sure what they’d do when they reached the coast. If they were to reach an island, they’d need a boat, and it wasn’t as though people just left them lying around.

  Warsgra would never have admitted it out loud, but the prospect of being on the ocean made him nervous. His homeland of the Southern Trough was nowhere near the sea, and he preferred to have his feet on solid ground. Though he wasn’t a man who scared easily, the thought of being on water, with unknown depths containing only the Gods knew what, made him anxious.

  The group kept going, mostly in silence, each of them picking their way across the increasingly green terrain. The sun grew high in the sky, beating down on their heads, but the increase in foliage at least offered them some shade. The leaves of the trees grew large, and thick, and glossy, the veins running through them as wide as a man’s finger. The insects that had been absent near the heated vents of the fire mountain now returned in abundance—though thankfully none were as large as the Hunter fly that had taken Dela. With them came the birds, flitting high in the branches, calling to one another in a myriad of twitters and chirps. It occurred to Warsgra that they might be able to hunt one of the feathered creatures, but the group’s energy levels were low, and they might end up expending as much energy as picking the miniscule meat off one of the birds would offer. But they needed to find water soon. The dehydration and heat would kill faster than the lack of food.

  He watched as Orergon slipped his arm around Dela’s waist to offer her support. The Moerian had almost died twelve hours earlier, and yet he was still willing to give up his own strength for her. Were they all like that? Were all three of them willing to give her whatever they had so she would make it? Did they feel that way simply because of her abilities and the difference she might one day make for each of their races, or was there something more ... simple ... in their actions? The actions of a male who cared for a female.

  Orergon had been leading the way, but he suddenly stopped and craned his neck upward.

  “What is it?” Warsgra called out to him.

  “It’s the Agu-Agu tree. Look.”

  Warsgra frowned. “The what?”

  “The Agu-Agu tree,” he repeated. “It has giant fruit filled with water. The flesh of the fruit is delicious, too.”

  They all came to a halt around Orergon and lifted their faces upward. Far above, nestled in the branches of the tree, hung clumps of large, green fruit. Each one was about the size of a child’s head.

  Dela nodded. “I know them. We get them in the markets sometimes in Anthoinia, but only in the height of summer. They don’t grow any other time of year.”

  “It’s warmer this far north,” Orergon said, “so they probably grow all year around.”

  Warsgra jammed his hands on his hips. “That’s great. But how are we going to get them down?” He looked to Vehel. “Any chance you know a good magic trick that involves getting fruit out of a very tall tree?”

  Vehel screwed up his nose. “Not one in particular, but I can try something.”

  Dela looked to him hopefully. “If you could, Vehel. I don’t think it’s going to be safe for any of us to try to climb up.”

  The Elvish prince nodded. “Like I said, I’ll try, though my magic still feels weak after using so much of it on the fire mountain.”

  Her face scrunched up. “Maybe you shouldn’t, then. We might need it for something more important.”

  Warsgra stepped in. “This is important. We need fluids. There’s no point saving magic if we’re all going to end up dead within the next few hours anyway.”

  Orergon nodded. “He has a point.”

  “I have to admit, the thought of being able to eat fruit right now is tempting.” Dela’s tongue flicked out across her lips, and her throat moved as she tried to swallow.

  Warsgra pressed his lips together, his nostrils flaring. “That’s decided, then. We’ll try to get the fruit.”

  “Everyone needs to stand back,” Vehel said. “Those things dropping a good distance could break your skull if it hits you.”

  Obediently, each of them stepped back, away from the bunch of Agu-Agu fruit hanging from the branches closest to the trunk.

  Vehel’s eyes slipped shut, and he lifted his hand in the direction of the tree. A breeze whipped up around them, and the leaves of the tree began to tremble. The wind grew stronger. Vehel frowned, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he concentrated. The branches began to sway, and with them, so did the fruit.

  “It’s working,” Dela squealed with excitement, her hand finding Warsgra’s forearm and giving it a squeeze.

  “Shh,” he admonished her, though he liked the feel of her fingers on his skin. “Let Vehel concentrate.”

  She glanced up at him, her eyes bright. Something in Warsgra’s chest contracted. He hoped this would work. Not only did he want them all to have food and fluid in their bellies, he also wouldn’t be able to handle the disappointment
on her face if it didn’t.

  The wind Vehel created continued to grow in strength, and the branches swayed. It was a strange sight to see only one tree moving, while all of its neighbors stood still. The tree looked as though it had come alive and was now wiggling and shaking its branches in some kind of fit.

  The group below looked up, wide eyed and tense with hope, each of them silently praying this would work. For too long a while, it didn’t look as though the tree was going to release its bounty, but then one of the large fruit worked its way free and dropped to the ground with a heavy thunk.

  “Stand back.” Warsgra used his arm to push each of them a step or two away. There was a moment’s pause before a second fruit also hit the ground, and then it was like a sudden squall of a storm as the fruit rained down on them. A number of the fruit split open upon hitting the jungle floor, its precious contents soaking into the ground, but many more remained whole.

  Vehel let out a breath and slumped over, his hands on his thighs, his head bent.

  “You did it, Vehel!” Dela cried. “You did it!”

  He looked to her with a smile, the exhaustion on his face wiping away with the sight of her excitement. Warsgra wished he, too, were capable of making her that happy.

  Not waiting any longer, they rushed forward and dropped to their knees around the fallen fruit. Warsgra picked up one of the fruit that had already split open. Using his massive strength, he cracked the whole thing apart and handed one half to Dela. She sank her teeth into the juicy pink flesh, biting and slurping up the juices with no sign of self-consciousness. The second half he handed to Vehel. The Elvish prince had weakened himself by getting the fruit down to the ground, and he needed it more than Warsgra did.

  “If we put a hole in the shell of the whole ones,” Orergon said, “we can drink the liquid inside without any of it being wasted.”

  Warsgra nodded his agreement. “We need a stick. A good strong one we can use to puncture the outer shell.”

  “Eat something first,” the Moerian told him. “Keep your strength up.”

  He did as was suggested and broke a second of the fruit in half, giving the other one to Orergon.

  “Good spotting,” Warsgra told him. “We might not even have this if you hadn’t noticed it.”

  Orergon shrugged. “Someone else would have seen it.”

  “Maybe.”

  Warsgra sank his teeth into the crunchy, pink flesh of the Agu-Agu fruit. It was bliss to have sweetness and liquid on his tongue again, washing away the lingering eggy odor of the fire mountain. This was the best thing he’d tasted since they’d left the Fae village.

  With everyone busy eating, Warsgra wiped off his sticky chin and set about finding a stick to puncture one of the intact fruit. He dug around in the bushes, looking on the ground for one that might have fallen. Numerous small creatures darted away from him as he rooted around in the foliage. If there are little animals here, chances are there are bigger ones that feed on them as prey, too, he thought. They needed to be aware of that. He didn’t want any of them to become dinner.

  He found a stick and tested its strength against his palm. Yes, that would do. He carried it back to where the others were waiting. The frantic eating had eased off as bellies were filled, but they were still dehydrated and could use the liquid from inside the intact fruit.

  Warsgra selected one of the biggest fruit from off the ground then settled down with it clasped between his knees. He held the sharp end of the stick at the point where the fruit had been attached to the tree and pressed down. He wiggled and worked the stick, trying to find a balance between using too much force, and potentially breaking the stick, and still needing to puncture the fruit. He pushed a little harder, and there was a jolt as he made it through the harder outer layer. Then he worked carefully, puncturing the rest until he pushed into the middle where the liquid resided.

  Working just as carefully, he removed the stick again.

  “Dela, here,” he said, offering the fruit to her.

  She waved him away. “You did all the hard work, you have the first go.”

  He pushed it toward her again. “Not happening. Now open your mouth, and I’ll pour the liquid in.”

  She looked unsure, but he lifted up the fruit and tipped. If she didn’t open her mouth, she was going to end up with juice all over her face. Dela’s lips parted and she tilted her neck, ready for the watery juice inside. He tipped the fruit slowly, and the water flowed out of the hole and into her mouth. Dela gulped to keep up and then pushed him away.

  Juice dribbled down her neck, and she laughed and wiped it away.

  “Your turn next,” he told Vehel.

  Vehel cocked a silvery eyebrow at him. “I think I can hold my own fruit.”

  Warsgra rumbled laughter and handed it to him. “Sure you can.”

  He set to work opening a couple more, and then drank himself. He was already feeling better and knew the others were, too. The sugars had helped to give them strength, and the liquid had rehydrated them. They were strong enough now to carry on.

  Dela was on her feet, looking down at the remaining fruits. “Can we carry them?”

  Orergon frowned. “It’s a good idea, but they’re big and heavy. We’ll probably come across more on the way.”

  “And if we don’t, we’ll regret it,” she insisted.

  “We can create a sling to carry one of them in,” said Orergon, already removing a part of his leather top, revealing his brown shoulders, swirls of his tribal tattoos peeping through. “That will be easier than simply holding one in our arms.”

  Warsgra nodded. “Yes, that will work.”

  They picked up a couple of the remaining fruit, using pieces of their crusted clothing to create slings. None of them minded wearing a little less. Warsgra never wore much to begin with, but now Dela was down to only her vest and her leather pants, her smock used to carry one of the fruits. Vehel had left much of his outer wear with the Fae, which they’d exchanged in return for the ponies and supplies, so he added a second fruit to Dela’s smock, and they carried their bounty together.

  With the fruits slung between them and a new bounce in their step, they kept going. The trees began to thicken as they headed deeper into the jungle, and Warsgra wondered how far they’d need to go before they reached the ocean. Even though they’d caught glimpses of it from the fire mountain, right now the coast felt like a world away.

  A sudden crack of branches snapping came from up ahead, and, in unison, they all froze, their collective breath caught.

  They weren’t alone.

  Chapter 4

  Dela

  Dela froze, her ears straining. Her heart had kick-started in her chest, and now she could hear the beat thrumming in her ears. It had sounded as though something large had moved in the undergrowth ahead.

  “What was that?” she hissed at the others. She prayed it wouldn’t be another giant insect she’d have to battle with. She’d seen enough to last her a lifetime.

  Orergon lowered his voice. “It sounded big.”

  She flicked her gaze between each of the men. “Do you think anyone else might live out here? I mean, we came across the Fae in the middle of nowhere, so isn’t there a chance …?”

  Orergon reached to his back, where his spear was slung across it. “Yes, there’s a chance, but this time they might not be so welcoming.”

  Taking his lead, Dela reached for her blade at her hip. If there was a chance they’d be attacked, she wanted to be ready. Both Warsgra and Vehel also readied themselves with their weapons, Warsgra removing the massive axe from his back, and Vehel drawing his bow and arrow.

  They stayed that way for a moment, instinctively moving in to protect each other’s backs. Dela’s breath caught in her lungs as she tried to listen for any other sounds that signaled they weren’t alone. Trouble was, the jungle was far from silent. Birds burst through the canopy overhead, crashing through leaves and branches, sending some fluttering to the ground. They hooted and tw
eeted and chirped to each other. On the ground, smaller animals darted through the undergrowth, sensing the four people near. Insects, of the usual size, buzzed around their heads, landing on skin and threatening to bite, so Dela was forced to slap them away. But there were no more big crashes. No more signs that they weren’t the only apex predator around.

  “What now?” Dela hissed. They couldn’t stay this way forever.

  “We keep going,” Warsgra said, “but stay alert.”

  Alert for what, though? Dela wanted to ask, but she kept her mouth shut. She knew they couldn’t answer her question any more than she was able to. This was new territory for all of them. She tightened her hand around the hilt of her knife as they set off again, following the same track through the trees. She’d use it if she had to. The others would fight to protect her, and she’d do the same for them. She wouldn’t stand around, expecting others to defend her if she wouldn’t do the same in return.

  “How far are we from the coast?” she asked after they’d walked awhile.

  Orergon looked over his shoulder at her. “Probably still another day on foot.”

  That meant they’d be spending another night out in the open. She supposed she might as well get used to it. It didn’t look as though things would change any time soon. They might reach the coast and discover they were nowhere near the island where the Seer was supposed to live, or they might even reach the island to discover no such person existed. Sleeping out in the open was going to be the least of her concerns.

  Something cracked through the undergrowth to their left.

  They all froze again, and Dela found herself standing in an attack position, her dagger held out, one foot in front of the other, leaning forward slightly in preparation of a thrust.