“No, but this is the Queen’s Rider,” Lars said.
“Even more reason to let her lead the way she wants to,” Lydia answered.
“Tonio willingly sent Roberto to Death Valley. We know he has an ulterior motive.”
“His grudge is influencing him,” said Lydia. “Amato hurt him grievously, but Amato’s been dead for years. And Roberto is not his father.” Lydia retreated.
Lars stared into the crackling fire. Tonio was a sharding good spymaster and his instincts were usually right. As council leader, his hands were tied. The law was the law. He had no choice but to act upon Tonio’s counsel.
Strangleton
Fenni shivered as the chilly air brushed his naked skin. Narrow shafts of moonlight cut through the trees, illuminating a white quilt of snow that hugged the ground all the way to the edge of the river.
Master Giddi stowed Fenni’s clothes in their tent under the strongwood trees. “Master your magic to warm yourself,” he said, coming back to the river’s edge. “Fenni, this is all about control. If you can master this, you can do anything with fire. Harness sathir and shape it to your needs.”
His need was to kill tharuks. Fenni glanced over his shoulder, just in case.
“It’s all right, there aren’t any monsters around,” Master Giddi said.
That was a relief. Being caught naked by tharuks wouldn’t be fun. Lit by the moon, Fenni’s breath gusted out of his lungs in a silvery cloud. He lifted his ribs. Air rushed into his lungs, filling them. Now was as good a time as ever. He plunged headfirst into the dark water.
The shock nearly knocked the air from his lungs, but he held it in, warring with his instinct to scramble out. Master your magic to warm yourself? Master Giddi was crazy. The only thing he’d master was his death.
Warmth flickered inside Fenni, spreading outward from his core to his limbs. Impossible—unless … yes, it was Master Giddi, helping him combat the freezing river.
Hair swirling in the water, Fenni felt the sathir in the river’s fish and plants, and harnessed the energy. Soon, green flickers shot from his fingers and a fireball grew between his hands. Fire underwater? Not as impossible as he’d thought. A fish, attracted by the light, shot past him. Fenni’s fireball died.
“Concentrate!” Giddi’s reproach blasted through his mind.
Fenni kicked up for the surface. His head broke into the chilly air.
“A fish? A fish knocked you out of your rhythm?” Giddi boomed.
Thank the Egg, no one was around to hear him. Highly embarrassing.
“What if you lose focus when you’re facing a stinking tharuk? Get back underwater.”
Fenni gulped in air, and dived back under, starting over. First sparks, then a fireball. He played, shooting fire between his hands. Not bad.
“Bring it to the surface,” Master Giddi mind-melded.
It was strange hearing the master mage’s voice in his head. Rumors said Giddi could mind-meld with anyone and any dragon—that’s how he’d received the title Dragon Mage.
Fenni pushed the fireball out of the river, into the air, but it vanished.
“It takes high-level mastery to switch between elements,” said Master Giddi. “Down you go again.”
Weeds swirled around him as he settled on the riverbed. Flame it, he had to prove himself. When his fireball was a seething mass of molten flame, he kicked off the bottom. Weeds brushed his legs as the fire roiled, shooting toward the surface. He could do this.
Something yanked Fenni’s legs, nearly pulling his hips from his sockets. Tendrils were tangled around his calves. He kicked, but the weeds gripped tighter, dragging him down. His lungs strained. Was Master Giddi testing him? Using sathir, he thrust the fireball upward. It broke the surface then fell back, sizzling in the water. He’d done it. Now, Master Giddi would free him.
The stranglehold on his legs tightened, his flesh searing. Fenni snatched at the tendrils, trying to pull himself free. More weeds snaked out of the murky water, wrapping around his arms, his chest and neck. His chest spasmed. He was losing air. This was no test from Master Giddi. It was a strangleton.
Reeled down like a hooked fish, Fenni thrashed. The monster plant’s grip constricted, threatening to squeeze the last air from his lungs. Fenni tensed his chest. His muscles burned, screaming at him to open his mouth and breathe in the muddy water. By the dragon gods, he’d never avenge Uncle Fennock now. Desperate, he flung his remaining firepower at the strangleton before everything went black.
§
Light sneaked through a chink in the tent door. Fenni rubbed his eyes and tried to sit up, but pain shot across his chest and back. He pulled back the covers and lifted his shirt. Angry red marks scored his chest and sides, and he ached all over.
On the bedroll next to him, Master Giddi stirred. “About time you woke.”
Not a word about what had happened. Shards, his master was tough. “That was a strangleton. I nearly drowned.”
“Your fireball was a great signal. Good thinking. I was fighting a tharuk tracker or I would’ve got to you quicker. Sorry.” His master tossed him a pot of healing salve. “Here, rub this on your chest and legs. I’ll do your back when you’re done.”
Fenni smeared salve on his chest, breathing in peppermint. “Last night, you said there were no tharuks around.”
Giddi’s gaze was fierce beneath his dark, bushy eyebrows. “Well, I was wrong, wasn’t I?” He rolled up his bedding with sharp angry movements, muttering, “Often happens, sometimes with disastrous consequences. You’re lucky you’re alive.”
“How?” Fenni massaged the salve into his aching legs.
“You seared the thing’s tentacles off with fire, but I had to
