Free Wizards of Fyre (Island of Fyre Book 3) by Janet Lane-Walters Page B

the pool. He heard a smacking sound and then a pop. Her body slid free. She sprawled on the ground. A clump of mud clung to her back. ‘Crawl to me.’ She inched forward and sprawled near him. ‘Rest.’
    Her body shook so hard he feared she would fall to pieces. He curled around her. The violent shaking changed to tremors and then ceased.
    ‘Wake up,’ he cried. ‘We must move. You must walk. I cannot carry you.’
    ‘My pack. My blanket.’
    ‘Wait here.’ He edged toward the pool. On the surface of the mud he saw a piece of cloth. He hovered in the air and snagged it with a talon and drew the material to the edge. A plump sack popped free. ‘This?’
    She grabbed the sack and cloth. She clutched them to her chest.
    Dragon didn’t know why she wanted these mud soaked things. ‘You must walk.’
    She stumbled after him. Three times she collapsed and slept. He waited until she roused. Then they moved on. The rain stopped. Clumps of mud fell from her clothes and things. The sun set and rose again before they reached the system of caves.
     
    * * *
     
    Rain. Wet wood that wouldn’t take fire. Mud sucking her down. She slid toward a dark pit. She gripped something with her hands. Help! Help!
    A soothing voice in her head shouted constantly ordering her to walk. And so she trudged, one foot after another and on and on. Her head ached. Had she fallen again?
    ‘Rest. Walk. Rest. Walk.’
    Who spoke? The voice didn’t belong to Arton. This person spoke with a low rumbling sound. Neither Cregan nor Mecador sounded like this. There was no kindness in that pair.
    ‘Lorana.’ When she heard her name, she stumbled. Her hand hit a hard surface. Rock but not like the stones in the citadel tunnel.
    She followed the voice using a hand to steady her feet. Was she in a tunnel? She’d been in one many times, a hidden passage in the citadel. Was she there? She had escaped. The air grew warmer and felt like simmer. Moisture gathered in the air, but she reveled in the warmth. ‘Undress.’
    The voice again. ‘Who speaks.’
    ‘Dragon.’
    ‘Why must I remove my clothes?’
    ‘You must.’
    The commanding quality of the voice made her feel she had to obey. She stepped forward and nearly fell when her hands touched air. She halted, opened her eyes, and pulled off her clothes and boots. Something cold touched her back and she fell into a pool of warm water. She thrashed and sputtered. Finally her feet touched the ground.
    She lay on the water and let the current move her. The water changed from warm to hot. When the water became too hot to bear she paddled to the warm area. At the edge she pulled herself from the pool.
    She stumbled over her clothes and knew she couldn’t wear them yet. She dipped the trousers in the water. Mud rolled from the cloth and rippled away. She put the trousers on one of the protruding rocks and washed the tunic.
    Lorana looked across the pool and saw a thin band of light coming from a gap in the dome. Steam spiraled upward. She laid her clothes on the rocks and hoped the warm air would dry the clothes so she could dress and find her other clothes and her pack.
    After a time she turned the clothes on the heated rocks. She sat on a stone ledge and finger combed her hair before weaving the strands into a braid. If she had had her pack, there was a change of clothes. With luck anything packed in the oil coated cloth remained dry. She checked the washed clothes. They were damp but she dressed.
    A large shadow rolled across the water. Her eyes widened. Had some wizard learned how to create an illusion? She shook her head. The movement hurt, but she remembered the deep voice in her head urging her to walk. She moved closer and touched the velvety dragon hide.
    ‘You’re real. I thought I’d imagined you.’
    ‘Very real. Welcome to my lair.’
    ‘I have questions.’
    ‘In time all will be answered. Follow me. You must sleep.’
    A yawn stretched her mouth. Waves of exhaustion swept over her. She