Page 6 of Court of Rivals
I begin to put the puzzle pieces together, and I realize that this dragon has been attacked by a bone wyrm. Bone wyrms are dragons that have been raised from the dead by the Hollowborn. They’re mostly bones, but many still have flesh hanging off of them. They are enemies to the dragons. Our enemies, the Hollowborn, ride them, just as our riders ride dragons.
I’ve heard there were times in history where our people fought on the sea and land. Now, we only fight the Hollowborn in the sky. At least our all-male dragon riders do. Every rider comes from a long line of nobles and royals and are the only ones strong enough to bond with dragons.
Are there riders here?I look around, trying to understand what exactly is going on.
Suddenly, a bone wyrm crashes into the earth near the dragon. The creature is as terrifying as all the legends have said. It’s not nearly as big as the dragon lying on the ground, but it’s made of dripping flesh and black bones. It tosses back its head and a black cloud of smoke explodes from its mouth, coating the dragon. The acidic smoke makes bile rise in the back of my throat, but the creature doesn’t come near me. Its focus is directed entirely on the injured dragon on the ground.
A sound tears from the dragon, sharp and wounded, and it lodges in my chest. Somehow, unexplainably, I know two things. One, this is a rare,impossiblyrare, male dragon. And two, he’s going to die if I don’t help him.
As if he hears my thoughts, the dragon turns. The haze thins, and his eyes find mine, raw, pleading, before the bone wyrm smothers him again in black, acidic smoke.
My brain starts working.How can I possibly stand between a dragon and a bone wyrm?What can I do?Nothing is the easy answer, but I keep thinking. I’m desperate. Desperate to save this poor creature for reasons I don’t understand.
Think, Harper, think!
And it dawns on me.Fire. Fire is the only thing that bone wyrms fear.
Kneeling down, I root through my bag and find my flint. I gather dry leaves in a small pile in front of me and carefully light them on fire. I add sticks slowly, knowing that if I rush it, I’ll put the fire out, but also feeling the dragon’s time getting shorter with each second that passes. Every time the bone wyrm covers the dragon with its black smoke, my hands start to tremble. I swear I can feel the dragon’s pain, his fear, his awareness that he’s knocking at death’s door.
Soon, I have a crackling fire going, but it’s not enough. I heave armfuls of broken branches onto it, and to my surprise, the small fire becomes an inferno within minutes. I grab the unburning end of a huge branch, take a deep breath, and before I can talk myself out of it, I leap out of the woods and race to stand in front of the dragon.
The instant the burning branch is in front of the bone wyrm it makes a terrible sound of fear, stumbling back from me. I can tell it wants to cover me in acid, but I keep the branch moving, swatting at it, which is when it seems to notice the growing forest fire beside me.
I try not to think about the fire, how fast it’s spreading. Instead, I focus on my branch, and the creature in front of me. We’re squaring off with each other. Trying to see each other’s weaknesses.
He steps to my right side.
I shift the branch to stand between us.
He steps to the left.
I shift again.
He lunges at me, and I bring the branch into its face, causing the bone wyrm to make another terrible sound. One of fear and frustration. I don’t know how I know, but I do.
Time keeps ticking away. Sweat rolls down my back and my palms ache from grasping the branch for so long. Little embers rain down on me, but I ignore them, knowing I need to keep my focus on the terrifying creature in front of me.
The crackling flames of the forest fire start to surround us in a circle, and the bone wyrm throws back its head and makes a hauntingly frightening sound. It’s the kind of sound you hear in the dark of night when you know an animal is hunting you. Except, the creature regards me for a long moment with its hollow eyes before shooting into the sky and vanishing into the stormy clouds overhead.
“It’s okay. It’s gone,” I say, half to myself, half to the dragon, as my knees tremble, threatening to give way.
Dragons can hear us. They understand us. At least the ones that the dragon riders work with. The female dragons. I know nothing about the males. No one knows anything about the males. Females disappear, they come back pregnant, and people have sworn they’ve seen glimpses in the sky of the huge males that dwarf the female dragons.
I guess that’s all we knew. Until now. Until a rare male dragon lay injured in front of me.
I turn back to the dragon, trying to be calm. Trying to treat him like any other frightened and injured patient, even though I’m not entirely sure he can understand me in his current state.If he were human, he’d be completely out of it.Still, I try. “It’s okay. I’m going to help you. You’re going to be okay.”
I run to the river and put out the flaming branch, again ignoring the growing forest fire I created. I go to the mandrake root, dig it out of the ground, and fill my hands with it. Then I go to the other herbs, the lavender, willow bark, echinacea, calendula, and St. John's Wort, and gather those too. Luckily for me, all of it grows in this special, magical valley.
I take out my dagger and put everything on the top of a smooth, flat rock. I begin cutting everything, then work it into a thick paste. When I’m done, I put it on my hands and approach the dragon.
He doesn’t move. Maybe he can’t move. I don’t know. I just hope once I start messing with his very painful-looking wounds, he doesn’t react. With a tentative touch, I start working the paste into all his wounds, explaining what I’m doing every step of the way. I don’t go slow. I’m aware of the growing forest fire, but I’m careful, trying to treat him like any other patient I might work on.
“I’m sorry if this hurts. I’m trying to be gentle, but this paste will help you heal. It’ll also help with the pain.”
He doesn’t say anything. Not that I even know how dragons talk to humans.
It’s exhausting work. I’m exhausted, maybe from the climb, maybe from the fight with the bone wyrm. I don’t know, but I’ve never been this tired in my life.
