DRAGONS FLY

“Unfortunately, such injuries do not simply go away because we wish it, or because we’d find it convenient,” the mender, who was named Bertine, said, her face aglow in the light of Karigan’s moonstone. Igniting it had lessened the hurt a little and made it much easier for the menders to tend her. Bertine, who struck Karigan as quite pragmatic, had not been impressed by the fact it was an Eletian moonstone but by how useful the light was for her work. She and her apprentice, Aldena, had been walking home from a birthing when they were overtaken by the Raiders. They hadn’t been badly hurt, but were roughly handled and frightened.

Karigan, lying prone by the fire, said little in the haze of pain. The wound to her arm had been sewn up by Aldena while Bertine gently examined her back. Trace stood nearby watching, and Erin and Travis appeared to be rummaging through the Raiders’ belongings and disposing of their bodies. They must have determined that Karigan wasn’t going to move or be moved from her spot by the fire this night.

Bertine was calm and professional as she examined Karigan. “Your superiors returned you to active duty too soon,” the mender continued in her brusque manner. “These wounds to your back were traumatic, and the gods know who the evil person was who did it, or what this has done to your mind.”

“My mind is fine,” Karigan said.

“Hmm,” Bertine said, not sounding at all convinced. After a pause, she said, “Just because a wound feels better doesn’t mean it has finished healing.”

Karigan did not know if she was referring to the wound to her back, or to that of her mind, or to both.

“You said this original injury occurred at the end of winter?” Bertine asked.

“Yes.”

Bertine muttered under her breath. “Well, it weakened much of your musculature, and so where one muscle is weak, others accommodate by taking on extra work. My dear, I think we are seeing muscle strain, though I can’t be certain how much tissue damage is involved, or its extent, but you are in considerable pain, yes?”

“I can hardly move.”

“You need a few days of rest before attempting anything physical.”

“But—”

“You will only make matters worse if you force yourself to ride and carry on. Aldena? Is the tea ready?”

“Yes, Bertine. I will bring a cup over.”

“We have brewed you a medicinal tea. It will relax your muscles and help with the inflammation.”

Karigan glanced up at Trace, who looked stricken. She did not know if it was Trace’s view of her back, or the play of light that cast her features thus.

Bertine and Aldena shifted Karigan onto her side, and had her tuck her knees into a fetal position.

“This will ease the pressure and pain some,” Bertine said.

Erin came over with an armload of gear. “Sir Karigan’s bedroll.”

“Sir?” Bertine asked. “You’re the realm’s one knight?”

“Don’t look it, do I,” Karigan murmured.

“It’s not that. I had heard the king had made a knight a few years ago. First one in a century or two. Didn’t expect it to be a messenger.”

“Two centuries,” Erin said, “and she is an honorary Weapon, as well.”

“Well, well,” Bertine said, “that is impressive. But I’d be more impressed if you did as I advise and rested for a few days before attempting to get back in the saddle.”

“Here’s the tea,” Aldena said.

Bertine helped Karigan sip from the mug. It was bitter, but anxious to subdue the pain, Karigan drank it without complaint. The menders then shifted her to her bedroll, positioning her on her side once more. Aldena placed a warm waterskin against her back before covering her with a blanket. The waterskin was very soothing, and she sighed.

“I am leaving the herbs and tea with your companions,” Bertine said, “as well as a liniment. It must be applied three times a day, and you are to take the tea and herbs two times a day.”

“Two times a day,” Karigan said dully. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her tongue had grown thick. They had dosed her with a soporific.

“Perhaps we can offer you this in payment,” Travis told Bertine. He held a very full purse in his hand. Coins jingled when he passed it to the mender.

“What is this?”

“We collected it from among the Raiders and their belongings. You may take their horses, as well, if you wish.”

Karigan’s vision had grown blurry, so she could not see Bertine’s expression. There was a long silence.

“This will be most useful,” the mender said at last. “It will go toward helping our village and the families the Raiders harmed. There are orphans.”

Their voices faded away, and Karigan knew not who said what, for the warmth and comfort detached her from the world, and she drifted away into a deep sleep.

---

•   •   •

Discomfort woke her. It was still dark and she had no notion of the time, but the others were up and about.

“—if she can’t ride,” Trace was saying. “You urge me to continue on, but neither of you will accompany me?”

“Our duty is to protect Lady Winterlight,” Travis said.

Karigan blinked rapidly, fighting off grogginess. Did he really just say their duty, his and Erin’s, was to protect her? Had he really just invoked her Eletian name?

Trace must have been equally stunned for there was a long silence before she said, “The king sent you to protect Karigan? I know there is something between them, but she’s a Green Rider. She can’t do her job with bodyguards.”

Karigan agreed. But maybe it was Bertine’s medicine that made her slow to react.

“The reasons do not concern you,” Travis responded. “The messages must reach Sacor City as soon as possible. You are fit to ride, and Lady Winterlight is not. We stay with Lady Winterlight.”

“It’s just Karigan,” Karigan said in a raspy voice. “No Winterlight.”

They looked down at her in surprise.

“Forgive us,” Erin said. “We did not know you were awake.”

“Hmm. Well, perhaps one of you can explain about your duty being to protect Lady Winterlight.”

Erin and Travis remained silent.

“Figured as much.” Weapons and their secrets. They had many, perhaps even more than anyone, including Zachary, knew. Why were they particularly interested in protecting Lady Winterlight? Or had Zachary indeed ordered them to do so? She pushed herself into a sitting position and grimaced at the flash of pain and stiffness in her back. It was not, to her surprise, as bad as she thought it would be. “We all ride to Sacor City together.”

“Your injuries,” Trace said.

“I’ll live. Aren’t you the one who once rode all the way from Westford with a broken ankle? We all ride with injuries from time to time.”

“Sir Karigan—” Travis began.

“Oh, so it’s Sir Karigan again, is it?”

“Sir Karigan,” he said, as if she hadn’t interrupted him, “the mender was clear about your need to rest your back. It is possible you’ll slow us down. If we send Rider Burns ahead—”

“Together,” Karigan said. “I may need some help saddling Loon, maybe other things, but I can ride as fast as anyone.”

She climbed to her feet and caught a breath at the twinge in her back. Dawn was lightening the world, and she could see the resigned expressions on the faces of her companions.

“If you like,” Trace said, “I can rub some of that liniment of Bertine’s on your back for you.”

Karigan consented. Anything to help. The liniment had a pleasant scent that reminded her very much of what Renn Harlowe had used when they’d been prisoners of the Raiders. That seemed ages ago, but thinking of him and his death brought on a wave of melancholy.

As Trace worked, she told Karigan that the menders had opted not to spend the night at the campsite with them but to continue on back to their village as they had other patients in need.

“So late at night?” Karigan asked.

“Menders work all hours depending on how many patients they have and what their needs are,” Trace replied, “but I suspect the fact that the Raiders held them captive here in this spot was the greater reason.”

Karigan nodded in understanding. She did not think, were she in their shoes, that she’d want to spend the night here, either.

The Weapons readied the horses, and Karigan “allowed” a leg up from Travis, but in truth she didn’t think she would have made it into the saddle on her own. Each stride Loon took sent a jolt of agony through her back, but she had expected worse, possibly because she had known much worse.

The rising sun warmed her back and shoulders as they rode, and this helped. Loon seemed to make his gaits extra smooth for her. During breaks, she walked around and stretched, and Trace spread more liniment on her back. She also drank a partial dose of Bertine’s tea concoction. Even the lesser dose made her drowsy in the saddle, but Loon didn’t let her fall if she dozed off, and Trace kept an eye on her to make sure she was all right.

The days passed in a fog and sometimes she heard Nyssa whispering in her mind, and sometimes she heard her other self. Often the two merged and she did not know who was who.

Can’t be a Green Rider with a bad back, they told her. Zachary will be so disappointed in you. You are useless.

“Shut up,” she told them.

“What?” Trace asked.

They were trotting through a narrow road with a tunnel-like feel with trees hanging over it. The shade made Karigan shiver.

“Nothing,” she said.

Some while later—she did not know how much time had passed—she saw someone standing on the side of the road. She reminded Karigan of Beryl Spencer. As she neared the woman, Karigan was sure it was Beryl. She was attired in the seafaring garb Karigan had seen her in, in her last vision. She pulled Loon up in front of her.

“Beryl?”

Beryl’s gaze was distant. Her eyes glinted with an otherworldly sheen. Her form was fluid, wavery.

Dragons fly, Beryl said. They breathe fire. You must find the device.

Karigan shook her muddled head, and Beryl was no longer there. Instead, Trace was there, talking to her.

“Are you awake?” Trace demanded. “Why did you stop?”

“Beryl,” Karigan said. “It was Beryl.”

“Beryl?”

At that moment, the Weapons caught up with them.

“Is there a problem?” Travis asked.

“I think maybe we should cut back some more on that tea Karigan’s been taking for her pain,” Trace replied.

Karigan thought this was probably a good idea, but she also knew that seeing Beryl was not an effect of the tea. Or, maybe the soporific helped open her mind to seeing Beryl. In any case, she knew she must try to remember Beryl’s words: Dragons fly. They breathe fire. You must find the device.

Hoofbeats began to pound in her head, growing louder by the moment.

“It’s a Green Rider,” Trace said. “Looks like Crane, so that means Ty.”

Karigan looked up, surprised to find that the hoofbeats weren’t in her head but real. She definitely had to cut back on the tea. She blinked hard to clear her eyes, and when the Rider pulled up before them, she saw that Trace was correct.

“Is the king’s host still at the mountain encampment?” Ty asked without greeting.

“No,” Trace replied. “We retook the keep and learned Second Empire is on the move to take Sacor City. We’re on our way to inform Queen Estora.”

“She already knows.” His expression was grim. “Second Empire has set up for a siege, and the gates to the city are closed.”