Read Online Dragons Rising by Daniel Arenson - Free Book Online Page A

you, my firedrakes, but not today.
    He
kept walking, heading away from the beach of ruin, from the city of
the dead, from the paladins and their mounts, carrying Domi far from
them all, far from all those who had hurt her. She slept in his arms.
    Once
you bore me on your back, Domi, he thought. Today I carry you.
    Finally,
a mile or two away from the devastation, he reached a landscape of
quiet hills. Flat, shattered rocks formed natural paths and footholds
like the skin of wrinkly, fossilized giants. Between them, pines grew
from patches of earth, their bark rough, their branches twisting and
their needles rustling. Mint bushes, anemones, and cyclamens grew
between white boulders. Upon a hilltop ahead grew a coiling carob
tree with a trunk like an old man's face, wrinkled and wise. When
Gemini climbed the hill, he could see the distant sea. A little cave
yawned open on the hillside, its entrance in the shade of the carob.
It was little more than a crack, several feet deep, perhaps ten feet
wide, no more than a burrow for one or two souls to lie down in
shadow.
    Soil
and leaves had blown into the cave, forming natural bedding. He
gently placed Domi down inside. Her eyes fluttered open, she gazed at
him, and she tried to whisper something, but her voice was too raw.
Blood stained the makeshift bandage around her leg, seeping out.
    He
brushed pine needles out of her hair. "Drink." He held his
canteen open over her lips, letting its last few drops of water fall
into her mouth. "It's all the water I have for now."
    He
pulled the lemons from his pack, cracked one in two, and helped her
eat. She wrinkled her nose.
    "Sour."
She stuck out her tongue. "I want some cake instead."
    He
laughed, eyes stinging, and couldn't stop the tears. "All the
cakes in the world," he whispered, stroking her hair. "I
promise them to you too. Oh, Domi. I'm so sorry." His voice
shook. "I'm so sorry for everything. Look at us here. Look at
what's become of us. I'm going to heal you. I'm going to burn every
last enemy, topple mountains, shatter armies, all to protect you."
    She
smiled wanly. "That won't be necessary. Maybe just . . . I saw
some carobs. Maybe find me one to eat?"
    He
nodded. "I'm going to leave you now for a moment. Just a moment,
I promise! I'll be back soon and--"
    "Go!"
She smiled weakly. "Go."
    He
nodded, left the cave, and climbed onto the hilltop. He could still
see the ocean in the distance, and when he turned west, he saw the
patch of darkness of the burnt city, the distant firedrakes still
flying above. Far in the south, he thought he could make out a cloud
of many other firedrakes flying deeper into Terra, seeking more lands
to conquer. Hurriedly, he approached the carob tree and reached to
the lower branches, gathering as much fruit as he could hold at once.
He brought them back to Domi, and they shared the meal. The fruit was
tough, stringy, hard to chew, but sweet and good, and it filled
Gemini with new energy, calming the tremor in his limbs.
    After
their bellies were full, Domi slept again. The sun was setting, and
Gemini crawled into the cave with her. It was a tight squeeze, but
the shadows would hide them from any firedrakes that might fly above.
He gazed at her soft cheek in the moonlight, and he wrapped his arms
around her.
    "Do
you remember how we slept like this, together, back in the Temple?"
he whispered. "Let's pretend that we're back there. Let's
pretend that all the world is comfort and safety again."
    She
mumbled in her sleep but did not wake. He held her until the dawn.
    In
the morning's soft light, he woke before her, and he watched her
sleep. When he wiped the grime off her cheek, her skin seemed ashen
to him. Her bandage was bright red with fresh blood. Iciness filled
Gemini's belly.
    She
won't survive on carobs alone, he thought. She needed medicine.
She needed new bandages, ointments for the wound on her leg, maybe
stitches. She needed a healer. And proper food. And more water.
    The
first flickers of panic