“It’s a shark,” she said in disgust. “It was probably drawn here by the dead fish.”
Callista actually squealed with dismay. “I hate those things.”
Sirenfal cast a baleful eye on the shark. She nudged a few fish in the direction of the predator, luring it closer. The shark took the bait. The dragon’s head flashed down. There was a big splash, a swirl of blood, and the dragon’s head came up with an eight foot shark dangling from her mouth. She spat it aside.
“That’ll teach it to steal our breakfast,” Linsha said dryly.
The food helped the dragon and enabled her to fly most of the morning. She rested again around noon for several hours and flew on until sunset when the wind shifted and stiffened to a strong headwind. Clouds drifted overhead, obscuring the setting sun and bringing on an early dusk. Although the clouds did not bring rain, the wind brought a choppy sea and waves higher than Sirenfal liked. Like a half submerged wreck, she wallowed and rolled on the waves and spent most of the night trying to keep her body facing the fast moving waves so they did not roll over her. Neither she nor the women got much sleep.
When daylight came Sirenfal forced herself into the air and continued the journey. But Linsha could see her flying was a real struggle. Her wings did not beat as well and the wheeze in her breathing was worse. Most frightening of all, the wound caused by the Abyssal Lance was red and swelling. Linsha knew she had not been the cause of the redness and irritation, because she had made a determined effort to avoid sitting on the spot or bumping it. Something underneath the skin was festering.
“Sirenfal!” she called. “We need to turn further west to find the Blood Sea islands. Surely we are close to Karthay.”
“I don’t know,” came back the dragon’s exhausted reply. “I don’t know where we are. The wind comes from the west. I don’t know if I can fly against it, but I will try.”
She veered more westerly and flew doggedly on against the wind. The sky was overcast and the air cool. The sea below had turned to shades of gray and green, streaked with foamy white from the tops of the waves.
Linsha wished she had more than a thin tunic between herself and the wind, but all she could do was huddle down with Callista as close to the warm dragon as they could. While they flew, Linsha scanned the sea from horizon to horizon in search of land or even a ship, but all she saw were endless leagues of empty rolling sea.
Hours later, it was Callista, looking far to the right, who spotted the small island. Urgently she tugged Linsha’s arm and pointed to the dark smudge barely seen against the clouds and water. Linsha breathed a silent prayer of thanks and told Sirenfal.
The dragon needed no urging. Wingsore and breathing in jagged gasps, she dropped down toward the island that from above looked like a mere scrap of land. She didn’t care how small it was. It was land that didn’t rock or roll or try to swamp her. Weary beyond measure, she came down heavily on a strip of beach and waited just long enough for her riders to slide off.
Linsha and Callista ducked out of her way and stood aside to watch as she found a patch of sand to the leeward of a large dune and began to dig. Sand flew in all directions. With the last of her strength, Sirenfal dug a crater in the sand just large enough to hold her curled body. Tucking in her wings, she crawled into her nest, curled tightly around herself, and dropped into an exhausted sleep.
The two women looked at each other. It took them only a short walk to reach the other side of the island and a slightly longer walk to come to the end of the island. It was little more than a scrap of land with a cove, a slight beach, some dunes, and some rocks. That was all. No habitation or shelter. No food and no water.
15
Last Flight for Home
After some diligent searching, Linsha and Callista found a few pieces of driftwood and some dried seaweed, enough fuel to start a small fire. Linsha used an old method her father showed her once that involved rubbing sticks together very quickly over a tiny heap of tinder to start a fire. It took a while to catch, but eventually they had a small fire burning in the shelter of the dunes. They roasted a fish Linsha had saved from the morning, ate some bread from their tiny store, and drank a mouthful of water. They took turns keeping a watch that night, mostly to prevent the fire from going out.
Morning came and the wind died. The clouds drifted to the east. The sun shone benevolently on the island, and the seas moderated. But Sirenfal did not wake up. “Is she all right?” Callista asked worriedly. “She’s alive,” Linsha reported. She checked the dragon’s breathing and heartbeat, and ran her hand gently over the livid wound on Sirenfal’s shoulder. “Is she all right? I don’t know. This wound really bothers me. It’s become much worse. We’ll let her sleep. All we can do is wait.”
They spent the rest of the day scrounging for more fuel for the fire and food to eat. Callista finally washed the soot and blood from her body, and Linsha cut strips from her pants to make coverings for her bare feet. Sunburn and thirst plagued them all day, and tiny sandfleas bit their skin unmercifully. The women slept fitfully in the dunes again that night, hoping fervently Sirenfal would soon wake. The water was almost gone.
When morning came and Sirenfal still slept unmoving, Linsha decided to try to reach the dragon with magic. Her mystic powers of the heart were not particularly strong and magic was still unpredictable, but if she could do something to help the dragon even for a moment, it would be worth the attempt. She knelt beside Sirenfal, took the two dragon scales in her hand, and leaned against the brass’s warm shoulder. While Callista watched, Linsha turned her concentration inward and focused within her own heart and mind. She felt the power surge through her blood and to her skin and muscles. The answering power of a much older force rose from the scales in her hand to join hers, and as one the magic flowed out of her hands and into the ailing dragon. Linsha’s thoughts went with it. She spread the power outward into the dragon’s body to heal and strengthen, but to her surprise she met resistance. A clump of darkness, an evil malignancy, lay close to Sirenfal’s heart. It clung tenaciously to her like a deadly tumor growing steadily toward her blood vessels and her pumping heart. Linsha recognized the taint of the evil. It was the same foulness she had felt in the bolt cut from the Abyssal Lance that she had pulled from Crucible’s back.
Oh, Sirenfal…
I cannot fight it, the brass spoke in Linsha’s thoughts. I have tried.
What can I do to help?
You have already helped me. You freed me. Now I will do what I can for you while I still have life within me.
Linsha felt the dragon stir under her hands. Sirenfal was coming out of her deep sleep. “No!” Linsha cried, deeply worried. “Stay asleep. Give yourself time to heal and recover.”
There will be no healing. I will not leave you and your friend alone on this island to die.
The spell broke, and Linsha’s link to the dragon faded away. She was left standing beside the brass, feeling helpless, inadequate, and close to tears. Sand sprayed around her, forcing her to step back, as the dragon rose from her nest and spread her wings.
“It’s time to go,” she told her companions.