“I have an idea…not that you’ll care to hear it,” Drake sighs, waiting for me to take the bait. It’s a testament to my level of desperation when I ask him to explain. “Look, I know that you, Siri, and Ekard had some kind of history before I showed up. And whether he’s meant to or not, Ekard has hinted to me of his disappointment at not being the leader. He wants control, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to get it while I’m around.”
I don’t like where this is going, Siri whispers in my ear, and I can sense her worry pulsing through my blood.
“You need someone to teach the nomads; someone who already has their trust. Someone like me.” Drake pauses, as if he’s waiting for me to laugh or scream at him. “Appoint me as their trainer—it will give Ekard some measure of authority, and in turn, you will not have to worry about him trying to overthrow you.”
Yet, Siri growls as she angles her body away from Ekard, preparing for an attack. Giving him authority will only increase his desire. It’s like tasting a fine meal before you store it all away. He’ll never be satisfied until he gets it all.
“It’s a fair compromise,” I answer Siri aloud, also addressing Drake. As much as I hate the idea, we can’t keep wasting days on the nomads. “There’s still a lot of ground to cover, and less than half of the Ddraigs have found their Cadogans. We’ve got to keep moving.” Besides, I’ve seen nothing out of Drake that makes me think he’s thirsty for power. We’ll keep an eye on him, but maybe this act will stave off the attack I saw in my vision.
Or it will cement it as the only future, Siri counters, her voice flat and emotionless.
“We’ll take the unbound Ddraigs on solo trips in the surrounding area while you get the nomads onto their Ddraigs. While they are learning, we will make camp here. When they can fly, we’ll move on together.” They will learn to trust me over time, I reassure myself, hoping it’s the truth.
“We’ll start this morning,” Drake exclaims, clicking his tongue in a beetle-like call. He and his Ddraig plunge down to the earth as an answer rises up from one of the nomads.
I don’t like it, Siri grumbles as we watch the nomads rush over to Drake and Ekard, smiles brightening their faces.
Me either, I assent, carefully climbing up to sit between Siri’s shoulder blades. But it’s the best chance we have. Now, let’s get the remaining Ddraigs and journey out to the east. Maybe we’ll find more Cadogans. The more warriors we can find and train ourselves, the better chance we’ll stand when Ekard finally makes his move for leadership.
***
Four days, Cyrus reminds himself as skin chafes against the bindings around his wrists. Four days without food and water, four days strapped to this table, four stinking days without even a pot to piss in. He wouldn’t just leave me here to die, right? No sounds of footsteps breezing by the doorway offer any hope of rescue. He’s counted the holes in the ceiling and the burn marks on the walls so many times that the very thought of repeating these actions raises bile in his throat. His stomach burns with hunger, and his lips are cracked and bleeding from thirst. Suryc, are you sure that Wolf’s people are still here? Maybe they slipped away during the night and—
No, Cadogan, Suryc answers with a sigh. Right now, Wolf’s pack members are all still in camps around the house. You may not hear them, but I can assure you that they are close. Don’t you think I would have come to get you by now if they were gone? Suryc cannot hide the hurt in his words as one golden eye peeks through the nearest broken window. He glowers at his Cadogan with a mixture of longing and fury. You should let me get you out of there, Suryc tries once more, knowing his words will bring a conflict.
“Of course, I should,” Cyrus mumbles, his papery tongue rattling over his chapped lips. If I don’t get water soon, my plans won’t matter. I’ll be dead long before Wolf even thinks about torturing me again. Wren must have obeyed my wishes, staying out in the forest in search of him. Without the master of disguises checking in on him, Cyrus has no other ally left besides Suryc. And a huge, dark, scaly Ddraig carrying food and water cannot slink into the house without being noticed.
So, when footsteps finally creak outside the doorjamb, Cyrus sighs in a mixture of relief and foreboding. The door swings wide with a crack as the knob strikes the rotten boards. “Still alive then?” Wolf exclaims as he paces up to Cyrus’s bedside, holding his nose. “Though just barely, judging by the smell in this room.”
“My gift to you, brother mine.” Cyrus’s raspy throat barely utters the words aloud. “Pity I couldn’t give you more.”
“Yes, well, I suppose you could do with some cleaning up,” Wolf remarks as he unties the binds around Cyrus’s wrists. “I’ll have Lynx draw you a bath, and we’ll see about getting some food for you.”
“If I wasn’t exhausted, I’d choke you,” Cyrus cries as he massages the bleeding cuts that wrap his wrists like oozing crimson bracelets. A hysterical laugh escapes his quaking lips as he raises his stiffened arms up to eye level. The effort forces his joints to scream in agony.
“I’m serious,” Wolf insists as he carefully helps his brother up to a sitting position.
Wolf’s eerily calm, kind demeanor has Cyrus’s nerves on edge. What could change his character so quickly? What is he up to now? “Why are you untying me, really?” Cyrus wheezes, leaning heavily against Wolf’s steady arm. His body is so weak that he can barely keep his head upright. “What’s your plan, brother?”
“Oh, didn’t I tell you?
