A wave of excitement flooded him. He could now experiment with a variety of woods.
He returned to the fire and studied the assortment of colors in his find. There’d only been a dozen. Nine were white. He ate the nearly burned stew and curled on his blanket to sleep.
In the morning water poured from the dark clouds in a steady stream. He decided to remain in the cave. He fastened a cover for the fire and smoked most of the remaining roe deer meat. He ate some and held his water flask outside to fill. Feeling chilled he returned to the fire, thankful for the shedding ability of dragon skin.
What now? He hated being idle. In the citadel his hours were filled with activity. After he’d been assigned to help with the butchering of the bovines and the occasional boar, many of his hours had been filled. Did Mecador realize that the assignment he’d given provided an essential survival skill?
He remembered the wythes of other wood he’d added to his pack. Four kinds waited to be tested. He had whites available to use. He selected four and bound them to the four woods. All the wands burst into blames soon after the stones were powered. He barely escaped burning his fingers. The only difference was the stones hadn’t charred.
What did that mean? He considered what he knew. Fyrethorn remained the only wood capable of being used for wands, but the stones often died if used too frequently.
He took one of the yellows and selected a fyrethorn whythe. He meshed the power. Once again a yellow light filled the cavern before the wand burned and the stone died.
Arton leaned against the wall. He had a theory but no way to test the validity. Until he found a wood strong enough to contain the power he could do no more. Did such a wood exist?
Chapter Five
Dragon woke from a slumber caused by his latest flight. He checked the area around his cave for intruders. The search yielded no lurking predators or any edible animals. He rose to his feet and lumbered from his sleeping lair to the cave opening to the outside.
‘Dragon! Help! Help me!’
Panic filled the cry. Lorana was in trouble. Though he wanted to leap into action he had to find where she was. Just taking off and heading south meant too much territory to cover.
He focused on her cries and found her. She clutched to a sturdy bush. Only her face and shoulders were above the surface of a mud pool. ‘Hold on. I am coming.’
‘Help. Help.’
Dragon stepped into the clearing. A misting rain fell. He shook his wings to remove the falling rain. A memory from long days past emerged. The men and women who partnered with the red and blue dragons always ran for shelter when water poured from the sky. Their hides didn’t shed water like his did. Only his wings could be coated with the precipitation.
He opened his senses and sought landmarks surrounding Lorana’s position. He calculated the distance. Though flying through the chilling rain meant stopping a time or two to clear his wings of all ice, all Lorana had to do was hang on. He sent his message to her again.
He exercised his wings and soared through the chill sky water. Tiny pellets of ice struck him. They stung. Each time he stopped to clear the water away he sent the message again.
‘Hurry. Hurry.’ He would reach her in time. She was the only one who heard and spoke to him, the only one since the evil ones came.
Finally he saw the landmarks. He searched the area and saw she still clung to the bush. The mud now covered her arms above her elbows. Her weakness troubled him.
‘Lorana, wake. I am here.’
‘Help me.’
He edged as close to the bush as he could. He extended a leg. ‘Grab my leg. I will pull you free.’
For a time she stared. Slowly she released one hand’s grip on the bush. Her fingers curled around his leg. Then she loosened the other hand and clung to him.
Step by step he backed away. ‘Just hold tight.’ He pulled her from the pool. The mud seemed to fight to keep Lorana in