Free The Seventh Magic (Book 3) by Brian Rathbone Page B

there?" Kenward asked when they were well clear of the cabin. Farsy looked at him as if he were daft. "Well, I know the whole men and women thing and the flirting, but really? Do you think? Onin . . . and my mom?"
    Bryn remained silent.
    "Don't look at me," Farsy said. "I just see what I see and know what I know."
    "And what do you know?" Kenward asked, already knowing the punch line.
    "I know how to tie knots."
    "That you do. That you do."
    The joke was Farsy's way of telling Kenward to shut his mouth and do what needed doing. Onin's tierre was a remarkable bit of construction, and Kenward had never intended to crash into it. It just worked out that way. Seeing it restored was satisfying. Jehregard watched from nearby, his look disapproving. Kenward wasn't looking forward to getting the heavy structure back on the towering dragon.
    "We're going to need a hoist," Farsy said, as if reading Kenward's thoughts--something that appeared far too easy for the good captain's comfort. "That's what the dragon is accustomed to, and that's the safest way I know."
    "I'll get the forestry crew to come set us up one," Kenward said, ready to walk away from the final reconstruction.
    "Really? You're not even going to help us finish this thing?"
    "Time's a wasting my friend," Kenward said as he walked away. "Things need doing."
     
    * * *
     
    Mikala had warned Sinjin not to come. Though he didn't fully comprehend Arghast legends and beliefs, he knew they expected the Herald to come for the sword. He could hardly believe ancient prophecies had predicted she would lose her sword over the desert. Prophecies were funny creatures, though. Mikala had described the sword as the Dragon's Tooth, a mighty weapon that would come to the Arghast from the sky. Sinjin hadn't heard anything about a sword in that, but Mikala had seemed convinced. He could do little more than pray she and the others escaped to the keystone caverns. There, at least, they had a chance to defend themselves.
    Now he wished he had listened to her words. His homeland covered in dark, gritty ash looked foreign, and the Arghast were hardly welcoming. Valterius and Gerhonda had thick hides, but even they were vulnerable to the rows of spears surrounding them.
    "Leave the dragons, and you walk away," said a man in full headgear.
    "No," Sinjin said before anyone else could act or speak. His wife shot him a heated glare but remained silent. "Surrender the Dragon's Tooth, and you walk away."
    "What are you doing? " Osbourne asked from behind him.
    Sinjin made no response. He knew what he was doing. He was Al' Drakon. These people knew it. If he came from a stance of weakness, he and his friends would be dead. Instead, he played his role as tribal leader.
    "I was here," Strom said, and Sinjin bit his tongue. He had hoped everyone would be smart and remain silent. He'd been wrong. "You pledged loyalty to the Herald of Istra. This is her son."
    "We swore no oath of fealty to the Herald of Istra's son," the tribesman said. "Any who take what is hers are thieves and will be treated as such. We've seen the golden dragon. The master of lies has escaped."
    Those words sent a chill through Sinjin. Evidence of a dark future was mounting and he liked it not one bit. He needed the sword and knew only one way to get it. "I am Al'Drakon," he said, "and I claim the right of challenge."
    These words sent a ripple through the spears. Sinjin hoped the words invoked a less prevalent prophecy as Mikala believed. She'd said it was dangerous but hadn't been able to tell him how or why. He wished Valterius had given her more time to speak.
    The tribesman who had spoken for the Arghast flexed his tanned, oiled muscles. "I accept your challenge."
    Sinjin swallowed, wondering what he had just done.
     
    * * *
     
    A scouting patrol returned, telling Durin and the others what they already knew. They were under attack. Black sails crowded the horizon, and dark storm clouds roiled overhead, filled with unnatural