“Yes, they do,” said Adelina. “What about the rest?”
“I can move my toes, too.” Lovina straightened her legs and the arm that wasn’t broken. There were no spasms. “Everything’s a bit sore, but at least they’re not cramping.”
“That’s good news,” Adelina replied. “Liesar said you’re from Lush Valley.”
“My old master, Bill, was a traveling merchant, but yes, our last stop was Lush Valley.”
Adelina’s gaze was sharp. “Master?”
Lovina bit her lip, twisting the sheet in her fingers. “I—I was his slave.”
Instead of scorning her, Adelina hugged her. “My brother was once a slave, too,” she whispered. “We’ll take care of you here. Do you know Ezaara, the Queen’s Rider? She’s from Lush Valley.”
She was Tomaaz’s sister, the pretty one, who could use a sword. Lovina nodded. “A little.” Did she actually know anyone apart from Tomaaz? She’d been hidden behind a fog of numlock for too long.
Adelina raised her hand.
Lovina flinched.
“I’m sorry,” said Adelina, “I was just going to tuck your quilt in.”
“Sorry,” Lovina mumbled. Her reactions to Bill were embedded, whether she was numlocked or not. She heard his voice all over again: “You’re useless. A good-for-nothing bag of skin and bones. The dung that a horse drops is worth more than you.”
Adelina placed a palm on Lovina’s good arm. “Like I said, we’re here to help you. Rest now, while I get you some broth.”
Lovina nodded, drifting back to sleep.
Nightmares plagued her. Death Valley again, except this time it wasn’t her but Tomaaz being whipped, his back laid raw under the lash.
A Risky Approach
After three nights in a cave, Pa had pronounced Handel fit for flight. Now, snowy peaks towered above Tomaaz, mist clinging to their tips. They were at the edge of Spanglewood Forest. Pa had said these woods were the seat of ancient wizard magic, whatever that was. It seemed Lush Valley had hidden more than dragons from its inhabitants. Handel shot down, making Tomaaz’s stomach lurch. He clamped his eyes shut.
“Last stop before the Terramites,” Pa’s voice rumbled through his back.
Tomaaz cracked his eyes open. The ground was still rushing up to hit him, so he squeezed them shut again, waiting for the inevitable thud that meant his torture was over.
He was out of the saddle in moments. It was good to get down and stretch his legs again. He shivered. Zens was on the other side of that mountain range.
Pa passed him some dark thin leaves. “Freshweed—it’ll mask our scent while we’re sneaking into Death Valley. We won’t need it once we’re among the slaves.”
“So, we’re only half an hour away?” Too close—but then, everything was closer when you traveled by dragon.
Pa shot him a sharp look. “How did you know freshweed takes half an hour to get into your blood?”
Feeling sheepish, Tomaaz shrugged. “Um, Lofty liked to use it when we hunted.”
“Typical Lofty,” Pa chuckled. “This is deadlier than hunting rabbits. We’ll creep along at the foot of the Terramites and approach from the north, way past Devil’s Gate—the entrance that tharuk raiding parties usually use. Once we’re in the valley, we’ll mingle with the slaves, hopefully unnoticed.”
“Sounds like a plan.” They got back into the saddle.
Handel crept above the edge of the forest, hugging the steep sides of the Terramites, taking advantage of overhangs and rocky outcrops that would block him from view, gradually increasing in altitude until they were near the top.
“Nearly there,” Pa said, glancing over his shoulder at Tomaaz. “Nock your bow.”
They readied their bows. Tomaaz clung to the saddle with his knees, trying to stop his head from swimming. Focus—he had to focus.
They popped over the top of a ridge. There was a flash of snow, rock and sky, then they rapidly dropped back down.
“Shards,” whispered Pa, “there’s a new watchtower.”
What had Pa expected after eighteen years?
“Only one tharuk guard,” said Pa.
“Do you think it saw us?” Tomaaz asked.
“If it did, it’ll be expecting a dragon,” Pa replied, “so we’ll take our chances on foot.”
Handel landed and they dismounted. Pa patted the dragon’s flank. “Handel says he’ll wait nearby. I’ll meld with him when we have Marlies. It may take a few days to find her.”
Handel nuzzled Pa’s shoulder, then with a whoosh of air from his wings, flew down to the Great Spanglewood Forest.
They crept up the barren rocky mountainside. Although the peaks to the north and south were higher and clad in snow, this ridge was dressed in only smatterings of white.
“Keep off the snowy patches, so you don’t leave tracks,” Pa warned.
They edged their way up. At the crest, beyond a rubble pile as wide as a meadow, was a crude watchtower, built of the same jagged bits of rubble. The tower had an open viewing platform with a wooden roof. A lone tharuk patrolled the platform, gazing down at Death Valley, its back toward them.
“There must be some way through all this rock to the valley,” Tomaaz whispered. “Otherwise, why would they have a guard?”
Pa shrugged. “We might have to risk it and sneak past the guard. The tharuk’s still not looking. See that gap in the rocks over there, by the tower? I’ll find out where it leads.” Before Tomaaz could protest, Pa ducked low, running along behind the rubble, toward the tower.
This was crazy! Tomaaz had thought they could sneak over the pile at night, or go around it, not head straight for their enemy’s fortress. Bow in hand and keeping low, he followed Pa.
Pa reached the end of the rubble and stuck his head around the corner, then took a step into the gap. “Ugh!” He fell backward, thudding to the ground behind the rubble, his hands clutching his chest. An arrow protruded between his fingers.
He’d been hit!
