Dragon Tender (Fae Unbound Teen Young Adult Fantasy Series Book 3) Read online

  Avenall's heart, never full of cheer when his father was around, squeezed painfully at his father's words. He wanted to stop listening, but he couldn't tear himself away.

  "He is at least a fine Dragon Tender, Elder Shan. All of the Dragon Riders say so. He has a way of keeping the dragons calmer than any of those before him."

  "Faugh," he heard his father reply, followed by the sound of him hocking up spit and ridding himself of it noisily to emphasize his point. "He is still a Dragon Tender, nonetheless. A menial. I doubt he is even my child. If his mother had not abandoned him in her shame, she would have been made to confess her infidelity."

  "Still, he will be useful when the Dragon Riders take to the sky again against the humans."

  "That is true. But it still does not make me proud to be burdened with a Dragon Tender for a son. And his time of usefulness may be sooner than you think, my friend. Your riders will bring us glory against the humans when they can no longer use any of their weapons or their technology. The battle will favor us again." Avenall strained to hear more, but his father and the rider were walking away, out of range. His hand wrapped itself tightly around the small media player in his pocket. He didn't care about weapons, but he cared about humans, and he certainly didn't want to lose all of human technology. What were the elders planning?

  He closed his eyes and pushed his anxiety away, returning to a calm state before he walked back to Mer with the salve and smoothed it into the small wound left by the splinter. He must not have been successful in keeping himself calm because Mer and the other dragons began to stir in their stalls with nervous energy.

  He quickly finished his task, dropped the salve on the workbench, then bolted out of the stable, scrambled through the fence, and disappeared into the woods.

  ***

  Avenall dashed down the trail to the clearing where Oriane made her home. When he got there, he saw her in the center of the glade. She sat slumped on the ground, her head held in her hands, her hair cascading over her face. When he drew nearer, he heard her sobs.

  "Oriane? What's wrong?"

  "It's my sisters. They're missing, and when I reached out to Euphemia today—the one the humans call Mona—she...she's been shot and is trapped in her nature form. I don't know if she can survive. She won't bleed from the wound as long she does not shift, and she'll be able to sustain herself that way for a while, but she will fade eventually if she can't transform to flesh. She will become a part of the forest as dryads do when they tire of their immortality. But Euphemia's human life has been so short. She wants to live."

  "Do you know where she is? Can you send help?"

  "No. I told you, Avie, my other sisters, none of them is connected to the earth. I can't feel any of them communicating. It's as if they no longer exist."

  "Could it be that the elves have taken arms against the dryads, too? I was coming to ask you to send a message to the queen. I overheard my father say the dragons will be flying to war soon. The council plans on doing something to harm human technology. I don't know what it is, but Queen Lizbet needs to know the humans are to be attacked."

  Oriane reined in her tears. "I can't get word to her without Euphemia. Can your human friend contact her?"

  "I don't know. Humans have ways they can communicate quickly across distances, but she's a queen. Can someone unknown to her contact her if they desire? Surely she has guards?"

  "But you must find a way to tell her how to find Euphemia! Soon it will be too late. I am selfish in this. I do not care about the elves going to war, I care only about my sweet sister. I will draw a map of the area where she is rooted. If they go to her with an experienced healer, her human body might be saved. My poor sister..."

  Oriane tore a square of cloth from her gown and painstakingly sketched a map of a wooded area far across the sea with sap from a nearby tree while Avenall waited, thinking hard on the question of how he could contact a queen who was so far away. None of his ideas were very good. He was sure Danton would ask for something in return for the favor if he said he would be able to arrange it. He had already given a dragon claw in exchange for his music and video machine. There were none left except the one he wore around his own neck on a chain, the symbol of the Dragon Tender. He could never part with that one. It had been Durian's before he left the compound. No, he could never part with Durian's gift, yet he had nothing left to trade. His other small possessions—a warrior's bow he would never use, an elaborately decorated sheath befitting the son of an elder, and other gifts he had been given before his magic made itself known—had already gone to Danton in trade. He hoped his friend would help from friendship alone this time.

  Oriane finished her map, rolling it and tying it with a strip of twine. "You must get this to the queen, Avie. There is no one else. I'll run to the forest and join the trees, spending little time in this form. I hope they do not send a Magic Tracker for me, because I do not think I can run far enough to avoid one."

  "Choose a part of the forest where dryads aren't know to dwell," Avenall replied, then grasped one of her hands with his. "Please hide yourself well. I would miss you so terribly if you were gone."

  She smiled at this and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. "I will keep myself safe especially for you. You are good, Avie. I know you will not fail me."

  She pulled her hand from his and ran gracefully into the heavy wood behind her. He watched until he could no longer glimpse her gown fluttering between the trees.

  ***

  Avenall held aside the loose plank that allowed him to pass through the compound fence unnoticed. As he stuck his head through to survey the area before sneaking back in, his eyes were drawn to the opposite end of the compound. A large group was just entering the stone council house, and in the group, he saw a dryad being pushed toward the door, her feet bound with rope into a pair of thick leather boots. She would not be able to touch the earth.

  Now he knew why Oriane could not contact her sisters. But what purpose could the elves have in capturing her? The dryads had never been enemies of the elves.

  After the guards disappeared into the council house with the dryad, Avenall ran as swiftly as he could to the stable and climbed up into the small sleeping loft. He could hear the harsh breathing of the dragons below him, and he brushed against their minds quickly to assure himself that everything was well. Yes, all seemed well. Ashta, Fein, Gronda, Harul, and even Mer were settled in and content, no fears stalking their dreams. Good. It was good.

  He dressed for bed and then tucked his sleeping fur around him for warmth, but he didn't find sleep. His thoughts returned to the map he'd placed in his pouch along with his media player and the other small treasures he had managed to keep secret. None of what he'd overheard that day or learned from Oriane made sense unless—was that the answer? The elves didn't want anyone to communicate with the queen. Whatever they were planning, they feared she could stop them.

  After a while, Avenall gave up on sleep and exchanged his nightshirt for his day clothes. Making sure not to rouse the dragons by any sound, he snuck down the ladder from the loft and made his way from shadow to shadow toward the council house. He had to see for himself what they had done with the dryad, if he could.

  Avenall had never tried to communicate mind to mind with another fae. It was forbidden on pain of death, and this ability that was whispered about among the farmers and herders was a myth. What Dragon Tender, a member of one of the lowest castes in society, would risk his life to find out if the myth was real? But there was no way for him to enter the council house except the front door. There were no windows into the cell where they must be holding her. It was his only choice even though it was a foolish and impossible one.

  Avenall sank into the shadow against the rough stone of the council house wall. He placed his hands against it and tried to imagine the small room as it would look to a prisoner. His breathing grew shallow. He probed with his mind for the feel of thought mixed with magic and was rewarded by a small, bright spark o
n the other side of the wall.

  It happened so easily. He closed his eyes, then looked out through the eyes of the other. She was in a small cage suspended from the ceiling of the cell. The floor of the cell, previously only dirt, had been lined from wall to wall with paving stone.

  They meant to keep the dryad from the earth. At least they had not killed her.

  And then he realized he had breached the mind of another fae. And still, he couldn't leave it without knowing. He sent a whisper.

  "I am Avenall, Son of Shan. I am behind the wall at your back. You will not be able to see me, but I have come from Euphemia. She has gone far into the forest, but she longs for word of her sisters."

  He didn't know for a time if she'd heard him. The dragons responded only with emotion or movement. He didn't know what it would be like for a fae to respond to his whispers. He was nearly ready to leave as he chastised himself for believing ancient rumors when the softest of whispers sounded inside his head.

  "A Dragon Tender? Then the myth is true. No wonder they keep you below them and tell you to stay in the stables. The elves must fear you terribly."

  Avenall made no response. His brain worked to understand what she had just said. Could it be true? The elves feared the magic of the Dragon Tender?

  "If you were sent by my sweet sister, then you are her Avie? She says you are quite beautiful for just a boy. I wish that I could see you. I am Placide."

  Avenall found himself blushing at her words. He was surprised by them, too. He hadn't known Oriane found him beautiful. Maybe she'd noticed him in the way he wanted her to after all.

  "She does call me Avie. I am him. Do you know why they've brought you here?"

  "To keep us from communicating to the fae court and to the queen in her distant place. The elves want nothing of their actions here to reach her. A guard said the elves have all of my sisters in their dungeons in the High Land. I am to be taken there on the new day, but I am glad that Oriane is not among them."

  "But there are so many ways for the fae to communicate! They cannot stop them all."

  "I don't know, Avie. Without Oriane and Euphemia, the queen will not have timely knowledge. I hope she is well guarded. I think the elves are not respecters of her position."

  "It is true what you say. The elves do not accept her." He thought for a moment. "I'm sorry I can't help you escape, but I've promised your sister I will tell all I know to the queen. Perhaps she will be able to retrieve you and your sisters from that place." He heard a scuffling around the corner of the building. "I have to go now. I will do what I can."

  Avenall opened his eyes and moved quietly from the back of the council house to the building beyond it, traveling from shadow to shadow again until he reached the stable.

  All was still. All was well. An elf might even imagine he is safe.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  A Change Is Gonna Come

  Ron Ross sat across the breakfast table from a silent daughter. Even when Tanji was the most upset with him, she usually forgave him quickly and began talking again before the end of the meal. This time, she kept her eyes on her food and responded to his questions with a "sure", a "whatevs", or a shake of her head. It worried him.

  Then, as she got up to clear the dishes and put them in the dishwasher, her voice sounded quietly from the kitchen, "Dad, would you be breaking up anyway if mom hadn't taken that job?"

  He folded his paper, thinking carefully for a moment about his next words, "Yes. We've reached the end of our road. Obviously, I never wanted this to happen, but I'm glad it's finally out in the open. Pretending has been too hard for both of us. I knew she would eventually go when she accepted the initial contract out of state and wasn't home much. Your mother has always been ambitious. She wasn't pleased when I decided to do pest control instead of looking for something in business again, even though I'm having the time of my life. She has higher aspirations than I do. I just like that I can now get home to dinner with you every night."

  Tanji walked to where he sat and hugged him around the neck from behind. "I guess I knew something was wrong when Mom took the job out of state. Doesn't mean I can't hate it, though. Just don't gross me out by dating girls that aren't much older than me."

  He smiled. "I think I can manage that."

  Tanji sat down across from him, looking like she had something more to say, but she didn't start talking.

  "Penny for your thoughts, sweetheart." When in doubt, open with the cliché, he thought.

  "Dad, I...I think I made a mistake with Thomas. You were right about him being too old for me. Like, over a thousand years too old. I mean, he's interesting and smart and has a lot of talent with magic. Plus, he's really hot looking. But he's such a party pooper. Sometimes it's like he was born without any fun in him at all."

  "I'm sorry to hear it. You know I like Thomas. Given the difference in your ages, it was difficult for me to let you date him in the first place. But he always impressed me as a serious young man who wasn't out to make unreasonable demands on my baby girl."

  "Sheesh, Dad. Where's your head at? Thomas might as well still be a monk. He can't keep his mind off of magic long enough to try to compromise my situation. That's part of the problem."

  "Good to know! Now I'm even more sorry to hear things aren't working out." He grinned at her, but she just narrowed her eyes in return.

  "I haven't completely decided one way or the other. I still want to get him to talk about it, but he's so closed, you know? I never know what's going on inside his head."

  "I can empathize. You know how your mother keeps things to herself until she explodes? But I don't think Thomas is the exploding type. He's locked down tight, as far as I can tell."

  "Exactly. But I care about him, and somehow telling him that it's over seems like a really big deal, even though we haven't been together for that long. He takes it for granted we'll be together and acts like he doesn't have to work at it."

  Ron listened as she expressed her frustrations. It took his mind off his own impending single-hood. When she'd talked it out, he asked, "You going to be okay at school today?"

  "School? Yike! I'm never going to make it on time. Laters, pops." She grabbed her backpack and rushed for the door without another look.

  It was nice to know that normal hadn't gone away completely.

  ***

  Freoric leaned casually against a tree as the sun rose, but his eyes and ears were active, moving, ready for any threat. Not that there would be one here in this foreign patch of woods. Despite this, his training and sharp senses kept him ready for action even when there was no obvious cause: he heard the Abomination long before he arrived. Under the snow, the frozen leaves crunched as he walked, broadcasting his approach.

  He turned to watch Thomas moving toward him through the trees. It was difficult not to show his disgust. He pretended pleasure as Thomas extended his hand for the handshake humans used in greeting. This custom began as the way a warrior showed he held no weapon against the other, although the humans had long ago forgotten this origin. What a stupid human custom. A warrior should never greet another unarmed.

  He imagined his knife in his hand as he said, "It is good to see you, Thomas."

  Thomas bowed his head and crossed his arms over his chest in the formal elvin greeting. "It's good to see you, too, mate."

  Freoric's expression remained impassive as he returned the greeting. "Have you news for me? The elders are eager for it."

  "No, nothing really. According to James, the queen is still worried about the elves, but she hasn't done anything about it."

  "Good. The half-dryad will no longer be passing information to her from the old world. This should stop the flow of rumors."

  Thomas cocked his head and raised an eyebrow.

  Freoric answered his unspoken question. "The dryad Euphemia has been silenced. It was necessary." If Freoric thought he'd pass the information on to other humans, he'd have ended him right then. But he wouldn't be so lucky today. Thomas s
howed no feeling.

  "Walk with me now to keep us warm, Thomas. I have much to tell you."

  Thomas fell in beside him as he turned, and they walked deeper into the woods, away from prying eyes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Angry Eyes

  In the morning, Avenall watched the rider move toward Harul with the bridle. He moved too quickly, startling the dragon, who jumped back despite Avenall's calming presence in her mind.

  "Be careful, Evrard. Dragons are not horses. I may tend the dragons, but no one can command them. If you do not move slowly and allow the dragon to trust you, she will easily dispatch you before you've broken her to the saddle."

  "Faugh. What do you know, Dragon Tender? Dragons exist to serve us. She'll bend to me no matter how I treat her." To make his point, he swung the bridle out, slapping the young dragon across her flanks. The leather made a popping sound as it made contact. Her scales would protect her from the sting of a leather strap, but Evrard was a warrior and had a warrior's strength. The bridle hit hard enough to cause pressure and make a loud smacking sound. She was young and easily frightened: Avenall barely prevented her from flaming. He did not know he had such strength in him.

  He rounded on the Dragon Rider, stalking toward him threateningly, shouting, "Get out. Get out before I free their minds and let the dragons take you. These creatures are not your wife and children for you to beat. Leave before I let go and they do to you what is in their nature."

  Evrard stood his ground defiantly, raising a hand to strike, but then dropped the bridle and backed away when a blast of smoke left Harul's snout. "Your father will hear of this insult, Avenall. Perhaps he will even allow me to wield the whip."