Chapter 14
Aware of Lesva approaching the cave, Vorik moved so that his back wouldn’t be toward her as she entered. After all their clashes lately, he wouldn’t put it past her to hurl a dagger between his shoulder blades without a challenge.
By moving, Vorik ended up standing next to Jhiton.
He shifted a step to the side, uneasy after that strange flare of power he’d sensed from his brother.
Even if it had only been for a moment, and Jhiton appeared his calm, usual self now, Vorik didn’t think it had been his imagination.
Usually, Jhiton wasn’t one for deception with his men, but maybe he was feigning that calm and was as furious with Vorik as he had every right to be.
When Lesva stepped into the cave, she looked immediately at Vorik. Even though her dragon had died the week before, her power hadn’t yet faded, and she’d doubtless sensed him as easily as he’d sensed her.
“I can’t believe you had the gall to return,” Lesva told him before glancing at Jhiton, then sending a longer look toward the chiefs.
Her eyebrows went up, as if silently asking them why they’d allowed Vorik into the cave.
Or maybe she wanted to know why he wasn’t already exiled.
Or dead. Vorik didn’t know if Warrim’s attack had been a personal choice or if someone had sent him out to keep Vorik from walking into the camp ever again.
But if that had been the chiefs’ intent, they would have chosen a rider who was Vorik’s equal or better in fighting skill.
“I’ve returned to challenge Chieftess Shi for the tribe so I can lead our people down a path toward prosperity.”
Shi laughed without humor. “You would have us be the ones enslaved or accepting handouts from those who see themselves as our masters.”
“The gardeners have never said they see us that way,” Vorik said. “If anything, they spend very little time thinking about us at all. We’re the ones obsessed with their islands. Now, do you accept my challenge, Shi? If so, it’s your right to choose where we’ll duel and with what weapons.”
“I’m aware of the rules.”
“Excellent.” Vorik bowed to her, though he kept Lesva in view, more worried about her.
He didn’t think she wanted to duel him again, since their previous skirmishes hadn’t gone well for her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t like to see him disappear.
“How am I doing?” he murmured to Jhiton as he straightened.
“I predict your imminent death,” Jhiton said quietly.
“Because Shi will kill me or everyone else will after I win?”
“The latter, though it’s possible Lesva will hurl a knife into your back while you’re fighting Shi.”
“I don’t suppose you’d like to watch her to make sure that doesn’t happen?”
“Actually, I was contemplating hurling a knife at you if she doesn’t.”
Jhiton sounded dry, like it might be a joke, but Vorik wasn’t confident of that. Once, he would have been, but this last week had changed things. That saddened him, even if he had only himself to blame.
“If someone is going to do it, I would prefer it be you.” Vorik eyed Shi, whose head was bent as she conferred with Tenilor.
The other chiefs remained nearby but seemed to be seeing how she would handle things rather than offering advice or support.
“But here, Jhiton,” Vorik added, “Maybe this will change your mind and warm your heart toward me.”
He slung the bag of foodstuffs off his shoulder, untied it, and delved in. He held out a jar of jam, the loaf of bread, and a block of cheese. When Jhiton didn’t open his arms to accept the items, Vorik placed them on the floor next to him.
“Oh, and here’s some dried fruit. I think these are apricots. They smell delicious, even dehydrated, don’t they?” Vorik held one up to his nose, then offered it to Jhiton.
Though he had ignored the other food, after a brief hesitation, Jhiton took the apricot. Maybe he’d never had one, for he held it to his nose for a sniff.
“This is supposed to warm my heart to you? Or to your queen? I trust she’s the one who gave you these bribes.”
“They’re gifts, not bribes.”
“Gifts calculatingly designed to warm hearts.”
“Oh, just eat that apricot or I’ll stuff it up your ass.”
Jhiton arched his eyebrows.
“Remember, I’ve been practicing. I might be capable of that.”
“We will duel with daggers on the bluff overlooking the sea,” Shi announced, facing Vorik again. “There is room there for all who desire to observe and contemplate the worthiness of the winner and the fairness of the fight.”
“Oh, good,” Vorik murmured. “Some of my blood is still on those rocks from where you stabbed me, Jhiton.”
“Does remembering that pain make you want to retract your ass threat?”
“A little bit, yes.”
A couple of the boys had noticed the food on the floor of the cave and, after making sure Jhiton wasn’t glowering down at them, crept closer. Vorik pretended not to see as they picked up the bread and jar of jam, sniffing and turning over the items.
“Are my conditions acceptable to you, Vorik?” Shi asked.
“Yes, I accept your proposal of weapons and location, Chieftess.” It occurred to Vorik that the dragons would be able to reach them and possibly interfere if they fought out on the bluff in the open.
He imagined Shi’s Uxtar as well as Ozlemar teaming up to ensure Vorik didn’t walk away from the battle.
If the dragons ganged up on him, would Agrevlari show up to pluck him up and carry him away, the way Igliana had swooped up Syla?
What do you think of the name Agrelorish for a plucky male dragon? Agrevlari asked.
It sounds similar to yours. Vorik had a feeling his dragon was too distracted by his imminent fatherhood to stage a rescue. How distressing.
Yes, it was the name of an ancestor of mine—what you could call a grandfather, I believe—and my name was inspired by his.
A soft clink sounded. The boys had opened the jar and were poking fingers into the jam.
“I think you spread that on slices of the bread,” Vorik whispered to them as a girl crept over and picked up the cheese, then nibbled at the corner.
She stuck her finger into the jam jar too and seemed to prefer that, noshing happily.
All the kids did, smearing it on the bread or eating it plain.
They’d had fruit and vegetables that the stormers had gathered from the fields and orchards on Harvest Island, but Vorik didn’t know if any of his people knew how to turn grains into flour and bake, nor had anyone brought back cows to milk so they could make cheese.
Until recently, Vorik hadn’t even known what cheese was.
“Come, Vorik.” Shi strode toward the front of the cave, waving for him to follow. “Let us end this so that it does not delay the tribal meeting where those who are loyal to our people and care about our future will debate how to go forward.”
Shi gave Vorik a scathing look as Lesva joined her, and they walked out together.
The eyes of those remaining in the cave turned toward Vorik.
He was tempted to look to his brother for guidance but instead steeled himself and walked out after the women.
He glanced back, hoping Jhiton would follow.
He’d meant it when he’d said that if his people were going to kill him, regardless of how the fight went, he would prefer Jhiton wield the blade.
His brother was nibbling on the apricot.
Vorik sighed, not certain if that boded well or not.
I may need your help, Agrevlari, Vorik said, aware of others following as he exited the cave.
I’m going to duel Shi on the bluff. I don’t expect you to get involved with that, but if…
He trailed off, sensing other dragons entering the area.
A lot of other dragons. They’d been inland somewhere, but Shi must have requested they come to witness this.
To witness it or be involved? Well, if I win, but the dragons all try to tear me to pieces, you swooping in to rescue me wouldn’t go unappreciated.
There are approximately twenty dragons in the area. So far.
That’s why a rescue would be appreciated. Fabulously so.
If I interfere, I might not get to name any of my offspring—or live to see another sunrise.
If I survive this, I’ll ask Syla to suggest that Wreylith invite your input on names. And to accept any gifts of fresh meat that you bring after the young hatch.
I expect your queen is not without influence on Wreylith. I will consider your offer.
If you decide not to risk your life because my end is inevitable, I forgive you for not coming to my aid.
Vorik glanced back at the people trailing him, young and old.
It looked like the entire camp, including all the gathered tribal leaders and soldiers and riders, would come to witness this.
He managed a faint smile when he saw the jam jar changing hands, people poking in fingers and taking samples.
And there was the rest of his bag in the back, various arms reaching in to extricate dried fruit and more jars.
“This is so good,” someone whispered, licking red jam off a finger. “It’s made from berries, obviously, but there’s more. It’s sweet.”
“Yum. Share.”
“At least Syla’s gift is being well-received,” Vorik murmured.
“Bribe,” Jhiton said from a few people back. He was coming along, swords and knives at his belt.
Good. Vorik wanted to survive this, but if he couldn’t…
Shadows found them as they exited the forest and walked upon the rocky bluff, the shadows of dragons flying in front of the sun. Many dragons. Ozlemar, the great black, was among them. Leading them?
Vorik sensed Agrevlari soaring up and down the coast, but if everyone turned on Vorik, his odds of surviving would be better if he ran into the forest where the trees grew too thickly for dragons to follow.
He wasn’t here to flee into the woods, however.
He had to make sure he won and survived.
For the sake of his people’s future. And because he wanted to see Syla again.