Clutch and Claw (Fire and Fang #4)

Prologue

Cold salty water washed over General Jhiton’s face and dampened his lips.

He woke and instinctively tried to lift his head, but tremendous weight pressed down upon him and kept him from moving.

Awareness of intense pain from his abdomen came to him, making him want to gasp for air, but with water smothering his face, he could not.

The memory of the fight with his brother came to him, of Vorik’s sword slipping past his defenses and stabbing deep into his gut.

After that had come the explosion, the ceiling of the salt mine collapsing and burying him.

Had he woken only to die?

More water trickled in from somewhere, and his lungs called out for air.

Yes, unable to move, he faced the end. He closed his eyes against the pain, the reality.

It would have been better if he’d never woken, but so be it.

He’d lacked the skill to defeat his brother, and, as with wild animals no longer strong enough to survive against predators, his end was inevitable.

You will not die yet, a voice spoke into his mind. I have a task for you.

Jhiton assumed it was a dragon communicating telepathically from beyond Bogberry Island’s barrier, but he did not recognize the voice. It did not belong to Ozlemar, his bonded companion of many years.

Vaguely male and sonorous, the voice repeated, I have a task for you.

It did not ask if Jhiton agreed to whatever the task was. Maybe the speaker assumed he would do so. It had to be a dragon. Who else would speak telepathically and so presumptuously to him?

Bestirred by the communication, Jhiton again tried to push at the crushing weight atop him. Since water was getting in, his tomb couldn’t be completely sealed.

His gut wasn’t the only thing that sent agony through him at his efforts. Everything from a crushing headache to broken bones afflicted him, but, with the need for air driving him, he shoved with all his strength.

Enhanced by his bond with Ozlemar, Jhiton had more power than most humans, and anger and frustration toward his brother over his choice further fueled his muscles.

But when rocks—no, those were chunks of salt—shifted aside, he sensed that more than his own strength was responsible for their movement.

What, he couldn’t guess, since no dragons had been able to fly to the island or enter the mine, but the pile above him shifted.

Some of the salt crumbled in his hands, eroded by the water. Where in the storm-cursed lands had it all come from? The sea?

No, he realized. That lake. The engineer woman had been drilling up into it. She’d intentionally flooded the mine.

With a snarl that filled his mouth with briny water, Jhiton shoved again.

More chunks of salt shifted aside, and more of the lake flowed in, keeping him fully immersed.

But enough detritus had tumbled away that he could pull himself upward.

He clawed his way past eroding chunks of salt and through water, but he worried his efforts wouldn’t matter in the end.

If the entire mine had flooded, he wouldn’t be able to get out before he ran out of air.

He’d run far from the entrance before finding the engineer woman.

He’d been looking for Queen Syla Moonmark and the shielder. He hadn’t even wanted this encounter.

Though it might be futile, Jhiton kept pushing and paddling upward.

Just when his lungs couldn’t tolerate the lack of air for another second, he broke the surface.

Darkness kept him from seeing anything, but cool delicious air touched his face, and he gasped it in.

Breathing hurt his abdomen, but he didn’t care.

He endured the stabs of pain to take in great gulps to satisfy his lungs.

You will heal, and then, when the time comes, you will complete the task I have for you.

Jhiton didn’t answer, not wanting to be bound by a promise to do something that hadn’t been defined.

Making deals with dragons was rarely wise, and…

what if this wasn’t a dragon? His mind shied away from what else might be speaking to him, and he focused on more immediate concerns.

Like escaping. He swam in the dark, though he was disoriented and didn’t know which direction to go to find the vertical shaft he’d used to enter the mine.

You will complete my task, the sonorous voice said firmly, whether you wish to or not.

An image of Vorik and Syla holding hands in the throne room at Garden Castle entered his mind. Again, Jhiton didn’t answer, but he sensed the power in the speaker’s voice and had a feeling it was right, that he might not have a choice but to obey.

First, he had to survive the day. How long he swam, he didn’t know, and he ran into the ceiling of the mine in places where the water had nearly reached it. Eventually, he caught the scent of fresh air, touched by the forest and bogs near the entrance buildings, and it guided him.

Thank you, Ozlemar, he thought, knowing his sense of smell was enhanced because of their bond. A normal human might not have found his way via his nose.

You live, Jhiton, came a distant reply.

Now, that was Ozlemar. The black dragon sounded far away. Perhaps on one of the other Kingdom islands. Had he believed Jhiton dead? He almost had been…

Yes, Jhiton replied, his head pounding from the effort of projecting his thoughts telepathically. Barely.

I did not think you would awaken.

Neither did I.

Many of your kind have died. Most of the Kingdom humans have departed. They took stormer prisoners.

They won the confrontation, then. And kept us from taking the shielder?

Even before Ozlemar answered, Jhiton knew the answer, and Vorik’s face filled his mind again.

That is correct. I believe the artifact is now submerged and inaccessible. Vorik departed with the Kingdom queen.

I’ll bet. Jhiton didn’t try to rein in his bitterness. If his brother hadn’t turned, the outcome might have been different.

Light ahead took his mind from the thought, and he swam toward it.

He’d found the shaft, and that was daylight seeping down from above.

It had been night when he’d arrived, so he must have been unconscious for many hours.

His salty tomb must have been airtight at first, keeping the flood from engulfing him—drowning him—and only after the salt had eroded had water made its way in.

When Jhiton had entered the mine, there had been a lift and chains in the shaft. Now, when he looked up, he saw neither, but he was surprised to sense someone familiar up there, someone with magical power.

Captain Lesva? Had she also survived the flood and climbed out? Or had she been dragged out and chained as a prisoner?

Can you tell if there are guards above me, Ozlemar? Jhiton sensed the dragon was now flying high overhead, just above the island’s barrier.

The last of the Kingdom troops are leaving in wagons. A short time ago, a sinkhole in the road swallowed one of their conveyances, so they decided the ground was too unstable to remain. How tedious it must be not to have wings.

Very tedious, yes. Jhiton was about to ask the dragon if he saw Lesva, but she’d been on the move and had disappeared from his senses.

He could have spoken telepathically with her, but his head was still throbbing and the thought of making the effort made it worse.

He wanted to crawl under a tree, curl up on his side, and lie there until he recovered—or he died.

But he had to climb out first. With no other way to escape, Jhiton found a handhold on the side of the shaft and started a laborious ascent.

His pain grew more intense at the effort, and he almost passed out.

But power flowed into him from somewhere, dulling the agony and giving him strength that his nearly fatal wound had sapped.

You will survive. It was not Ozlemar but the same voice that had spoken to him earlier.

To complete your task, Jhiton said, answering for the first time.

Yes. Laughter rang in his mind. It sounded mad.

Your brother has betrayed you and also betrayed all stormer-allied dragons, Ozlemar said as Jhiton climbed. Will you kill him?

Thinking of the other speaker, Jhiton had a feeling the task he’d been saved so that he could perform would require it.

Yes.