“It’s the best chance he has, along with that remedy for limplock.” Warmth and comfort flooded him as she spoke. “Keep feeding him that, Tomaaz, and meld with him. Hold him here. If he can hear you, he won’t want to leave his new rider. Help him stay strong.”
Maazini was anything but strong. Rubbing Maazini’s eye ridges, Tomaaz reached out with his mind again. Opposite Handel, Zaarusha nestled up to Maazini, holding his rear limbs still, although his tail still thrashed. She draped her wing over Maazini’s back, the tip touching Handel.
Pa returned, sucking in his breath when his eyes grazed Maazini’s pale gray scales.
Liesar landed. A tall man with dark hair and black eyes strode out onto the ledge. Moments later, a midnight blue dragon dropped to the ledge. The man nodded. “Tomaaz, I’m Roberto, and this is Erob.” He gestured at the blue dragon. “We’ve come to join the healing circle. Keep one hand on his snout and the other on my shoulder.”
They made a circle of dragons and riders, touching hand to wingtip around Maazini. The only sounds were the slap of Maazini’s tail on stone, and the hiss of dragons breathing.
“Stay melded with your dragon,” Roberto whispered to Tomaaz. He cleared his throat. “Let’s begin.”
Tomaaz searched for Maazini’s thoughts. Nothing.
There was a faint hum in his mind. Pa and Roberto had their eyes closed, deep in concentration. The dragons’ eyes were slitted and their focus was on Maazini’s head. For many heartbeats, they stood, silently touching one another.
Tomaaz’s fingertips tingled, then buzzed.
Then energy flowed up his arms, across his chest and through his fingers into Maazini. The waves grew stronger, pulsing through him to the wounded dragon. “Maazini, we’re here. Maazini, stay with us … Maazini, can you hear me?”
Suddenly, Tomaaz’s veins were burning, fire coursing through him, like when he’d imprinted with Maazini. He was no longer tired, exhausted, beaten down or in pain.
Roberto spoke. “Pass your energy to Maazini. Feed him. He needs this life force.”
Tomaaz pushed the energy out of him, imagining a huge torrent like a river of fire flowing through his hands into his dying dragon. “Maazini, stay. Maazini, I want to fly with you, to go back to Death Valley and rescue those slaves. Maazini, I can’t do it without you.”
A faint peach tinge crept across Maazini’s scales. It was working. A strangled sound broke from Tomaaz’s chest; half sob, half laugh. Tomaaz fed more life force into his dragon. “Maazini?”
“To … maaz.” It was faint, but he was there.
Tears rolled down Tomaaz’s face. “Shards, I thought I was going to lose you. Hold on. We’ll get you out of this yet.”
§
Ma was sleeping and so was the boy.
“They should be fine for a little while,” Ezaara said to Adelina, glancing at the ledge outside the infirmary. Roberto had melded, letting Ezaara know they were using a healing circle for Zaarusha’s son. “Do you mind if I—”
“Go,” Adelina said. “I’ll keep an eye on them. It’s your brother, Ezaara.” She gave a tired smile, shooing her out.
Ezaara stepped softly to the cavern mouth. What she saw stole her breath: a ring of dragons and riders, joined at hand and wingtip around a pale-orange wounded dragon. But it wasn’t that.
It was the sathir dancing from wingtip to hand, coursing along the bodies of the riders and dragons into Zaarusha’s wounded son.
Multi-colored light streamed from Zaarusha’s wings, combining with Handel’s bronze and Erob’s midnight blue light on one side and Liesar’s silver on the other. The strands of sathir wove in a river of color, flowing through riders and dragons until it reached Tomaaz, brilliant orange light pouring from him into his dragon. Grateful for the gift of seeing sathir, or life energy, Ezaara mentally thanked Ithsar, the desert assassin, for teaching her.
The dragon’s scales grew brighter until he was glowing a healthy orange.
§
“Safe.”
The word shot through Tomaaz with such power that he broke the healing circle and crumpled to his knees, flinging his arms around Maazini’s neck.
Maazini lifted his head and nuzzled Tomaaz’s ribs. Soon his dragon was asleep.
Pa hugged him.
Roberto extended his hand. “Well done.” His dark eyes shone with approval. “There’s someone here who’d like to see you.” He gestured toward the cavern mouth.
“Ezaara!” Tomaaz bounded over to her and wrapped her in his arms.
She was crying and laughing all at once. “Thank the Egg, you’re home.”
“Home?” he said. “I guess it is now.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Phew! What’s that smell?”
Tomaaz let go of her. “It’s the stink of Death Valley.”
She slugged him. “Whatever it is, get rid of it.” Ezaara wasn’t laughing any more. A tear on her cheek, she hooked her arm through his, leading him into the infirmary where the boy and Ma were sleeping.
He needed to bathe. He couldn’t risk carrying the stench of slavery and death to Lovina.
§
“I told her to wait in the mess cavern for you.” Ezaara pushed Tomaaz toward a huge archway.
Tomaaz hung back.
Everything was strange here, all caverns and tunnels. And what if Lovina didn’t feel the same anymore? It was one thing to kiss someone when they’d rescued you and you were stranded in a cave alone, but Lovina had been at Dragons’ Hold for two weeks. What if she liked someone else?
“What if she doesn’t?”
“Maazini, you’re supposed to be resting.”
“And you’re supposed to be seeing Lovina. Handel told me all about her.”
“Well?” Ezaara folded her arms and raised an eyebrow. “Cold feet? Or worried that your bath didn’t purge the stink?” She grinned.
Oh, shards! First his dragon, then his sister! Tomaaz strode inside without another word to either of them.
The place was deserted. She wasn’t here, after all. He sighed. All that worry for nothing.
Then
