The Sorcerer's Concubine (The Telepath and the Sorcerer Book 1) (20 page)

It flew low over the camp, scoping them out, before circling round.

Where is the man who bound my friend?
The voice that entered Velsa’s mind was silken. It might have belonged to a handsome man, with a distinguished accent.

Your telepath?
Velsa asked.
Your telepath attacked our camp!

A Miralem among you?
The dragon sounded surprised as it skimmed through the air just above them, as if it wanted to see them closer. Its shadow briefly covered Velsa.
One of the traitors?

No. A Fanarlem telepath.

The men fired a volley of shots. The dragon hissed, its body twisting to evade the bullets, its neck whipping round. The wings were spread rigid, catching the wild air of the storm, while it opened its great toothy mouth and released a ball of fire into the headquarters.

This was the least of her worries, but Velsa couldn’t help a pang thinking of the burning books, including
Fanarlem Life
, and Grau’s bag, which held nothing too special, except the memories of his hands opening the pockets and fishing out various useful items.

Your telepath,
she repeated,
attacked
our
camp.
She was probably stupid to argue with a dragon, but the voice in her head seemed so very human, and perhaps even reasonable.
And all we did was put a golden band on her. 

Oh, is that all? As if that is nothing. Those insidious little devices are very difficult to remove without the key. She didn’t have the money for removal. I was her only hope for revenge and I hardly need an excuse to attack Daramons. What do you care, little poppet? Aren’t you a slave?

Don’t tell me you’re concerned about my welfare, while you burn up my possessions and threaten my life.

Poor, misguided girl,
the dragon said.
They enslaved your people, and they have destroyed mine. I give you two choices: come with me to freedom, or burn with your captors.

I don’t want your forced freedom!
Velsa screamed. Her head was throbbing.

The dragon flew high into the sky, and even now she had to watch it, had to admire its shimmering grace. The rain that had been threatening arrived abruptly, the wind lashing against canvas tents. The drops stung her face. She worried about getting wet again—another absurd thought when the dragon might incinerate her.

The dragon swept down, so low that men ran for cover, some of them screaming with unrestrained fear. Its face was going to plow straight into them. Velsa flung herself at Grau. She tried to imagine a layer of protection around them. But she didn’t know that she could really protect them. She had the feeble thought that she was glad fire could kill them both. She couldn’t bear it if she would live and Grau would die. Weak terror flooded her entire body as she saw the dragon’s eyes for the first time, huge golden eyes, as bright as jewels. The dragon’s mouth opened—

It snapped up the unconscious Archel and ate him.

Velsa’s mouth fell open. 

Did you like that?
the dragon asked her.

N—no!

Really? I sensed that you didn’t care for him.

Velsa really couldn’t muster any sympathy for Archel.

The dragon seemed to laugh inwardly.
Is there anyone else here you’d like to me to eat?

Please!
Velsa begged the dragon.
Don’t kill anyone else!

The dragon roared. She almost had the strange feeling that the dragon liked her and wanted her to be impressed that he had killed Archel, and was angry when she didn’t offer anyone else to be eaten. She wasn’t sure if that was true. It closed her off to its thoughts.

The dragon landed now, flapping its wings so that air and rain flew at them. The men drew back, struggling to keep their rifles aimed. Behind the great wings, smoke billowed from the headquarters, although the rain seemed to be stifling the fire. The dragon’s head whipped around and it shot another ball of fire at a row of tents. She could see its face clearly now; narrow horns rising straight from the crown of its graceful head, a few tendrils like whiskers around its nostrils. Rain made the fire smoke and sputter.

I’ll ask you again,
the dragon said.
Where is the man who banded my telepath?

He isn’t here,
Velsa replied. Dlara? Did he really only want Dlara? No, she thought the dragon just enjoyed toying with them.

“Hold him,” Grau said.

Hold him?

Did he think she could truly restrain this unearthly creature?

She had to try her best. She reached for the dragon to restrain him.

The dragon immediately sensed her attack. He lifted his head and she expected the fire to come at her any moment.
No—no—no—
She fought to keep the dragon's head pointed at the sky. Her whole body was with her, her toes clenched in her boots, her stuffing feeling tight around her bones all down her arms and legs, her temples searing with agony. It was life or death, seconds ticking by, the dragon’s nostrils smoking.

Grau lifted his arms and a bolt of lightning struck the dragon. The dragon screamed, a shrill sound that pierced her ears so sharply that she wouldn’t have been surprised if they never worked again.

Grau, too, tried to cover his ears. When the scream ended, the dragon’s slender body tumbled to the ground. It fell with a weight she could feel in her feet, and she could hardly bear the sight.

What else could they do, to save their own lives?

A number of the tents in the camp and a few of the latrines were leveled beneath the dragon’s body. Its foot crashed into a smoldering campfire, and the flames continue to lap at its claws.

Grau stumbled, clutching her shoulder, but she was ready to collapse herself.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “Fates, I’m sorry. A
dragon
. I’ve wanted to see one since I was a kid.”

“Is it dead?” the men were asking all around them. They fired their rifles again, for good measure.

This seemed too much, to pepper the dragon’s shimmering scales with holes when it was obviously dead.
It wasn’t a very nice dragon,
she told herself, but knowing that the dragons had lost so much, she couldn’t be angry at it. In death, it had a noble expression, but at the same time it was even a little cute.

“This is all your fault, Thanneau.” One of the toughest men stalked over to Grau and reached for him.

Grau backed away, but he seemed a little dizzy. Velsa went to his side, not that this did any good.

“You and your concubine,” the man said. “I heard that your concubine got in the fight with the Miralem in the first place, and you wouldn’t listen to Archel, and you killed the damn dragon.”

“
And
?” Grau demanded. “I fail to see how killing the dragon, which was Archel’s entire plan, was an error on my part. And the Miralem attack before had nothing to do with Velsa.”

“It just isn’t right, a telepathic Fanarlem. These things are attracted to her.”

“Telepathic?” a skinny man asked.

“That’s what I heard!” the first man said. “She probably told the dragon to kill Archel!”

More voices of protest joined in. 

“We need to concentrate on putting out the fires!” Grau said. “I really don’t think you want to attack us.”

“You seem pretty exhausted.”

“We could say the dragon ate you, too…”

“The world might be better off without a skarnwen and his slave…”

“Grau!” Velsa shrieked as one of the men fired behind Grau, and this time, he didn’t have time to deflect. The bullet struck his shoulder.

“Back off or I’ll kill you all,” Velsa said, as some of them edged closer.

“Yes, back off!” Grau said. “I just killed a dragon, damn it!”

“Grau—we need to leave,” she said, but she could tell from the mood in camp that they couldn’t go without a fight. 

“I need to put out the fire!” he said. “Or our squad will come back and find they have no shelter…” He let out a small gasp of pain, but he started running.
Outrunning the poison,
she thought.

A few of the soldiers followed, to keep an eye on them, but mostly they seemed to realize the sense of letting Grau staunch the flames at headquarters. The rain had kept it from going up completely, and maybe it had fireproofing spells placed upon it as important buildings often did, but smoke was trailing from one corner of the roof.

Grau made it to the building, but then he stopped and leaned against a post, his face drenched in rain and sweat. His color was positively sickly. “Can you get the bullet out?” he asked her. “My body can heal, but only if you get it out.”

“I think so…” She placed her hand on his shoulder, extending her telepathy to feel through his damaged flesh. She hated this, dealing with flesh and blood when it got messy and painful, but she closed her eyes and tried to pull the bullet out again.

He barked out a barely restrained sound of pain as the bullet fell to the ground.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry, I don’t think I did a very good job.”

“How were you able to stop
Fern’s
pain and not mine?”

“I don’t know how I did it! Where is your healing potion?”

“In my bag. In our room…” He dropped to his knees.

She looked back and what did she see, but a man applying healing potion to some petty little arm wound not five feet away. As soon as she saw him, he put it away and turned his back on her.

She ran after him. “You
fiend
, you won’t help Grau when he’s trying to save headquarters? Look, he’s passing out!”

“What do headquarters benefit me?” he said sullenly. “I sleep in a tent, not a fancy officer’s bed. I can’t read those books. I don’t really care if Dlara has a desk. You know benefited me? Flower.”

He grabbed her hand and lifted her off the ground, dangling by one arm. “I’m not afraid of you. They say you’re telepathic? Well, show me something.”

She reached for his pocket and tried to use telekinesis to pluck out the healing potion, but her head was still throbbing from fighting the dragon. She couldn’t quite seem to catch it and quickly, her panic rose. “Put me down!” Her mind was going back to having her hands tied behind her back, the complete helplessness of being unable to fight Flower and the guard.

Grau lurched forward to help her. “Let her
go
.” 

“Or what?” The man shook Velsa by the arm.

This seemed to break her paralysis, so she could rake at him with her mental weapons. “There she goes,” he said, encouraging the other men to rush to his aid. One man kicked Grau in the stomach and Velsa screamed, wincing. She felt how much these men hated her and Grau—why? Some of them believed they were an affront to fate itself, and others were jealous of Grau for having enough money to buy a concubine. Potent fear mingled with their anger. Many of them had believed the dragon would kill them. They didn’t understand why the dragon would come, if not because it was drawn by the only other magical being among them—Velsa.

Velsa could feel something inside her like the very storm itself, that could destroy and leave her wondering what on earth she had done. This was the power Grau was afraid of. Her head was splitting open. 

Outside the gates came the sound of horses and shouted voices.

Fates! The patrol!

The gate was unattended, and Dlara rushed through at the front, his rifle at the ready. The man put Velsa down, but not before Dlara saw him. Dlara barely noted the dragon corpse before leading his mount around the camp debris.

“What is going on here?” he shouted. “What happened? Where is Lieutenant Archel?”

“Dead,” a few people said at once.

“Then, Sorcerer Thanneau, you are the highest ranking person who was here for the dragon attack. Tell me what happened.”

“The dragon appeared…”

“Are you hurt?” Dlara dismounted.

“Yes,” Grau said, curtly. “I was shot and kicked in the stomach by—him, and him.” He pointed.

“All right,
look
.” Dlara turned on the surly expression of the men gathered around. “I have tolerated far more of this than I should, because Archel fought my efforts to maintain order at every turn, but I will not tolerate you attacking the only sorcerer in our camp.”

“He’d be all right on his own.” The man who had lifted Velsa by her arm spoke. “It’s his concubine. She’s
telepathic
.”

Dlara stalked over to the man. “I saw you grabbing her,” he said. “I am aware she is telepathic. It is not your place to decide whether her presence is safe. She saved our damned
lives
.” He struck the man across the face.

She tried not to think of what she might have done, if they had come five minutes later. And if she wasn’t able to fight, what the men might have done to her and Grau…

What they might do, the moment Dlara turned his back.

“We have buildings on fire, we have a dragon corpse, we have a lieutenant dead,” Dlara said. “This is no time to be worrying over a concubine. Garman, get your men working on putting out the fires. Drinna, ride to town and tell them we need help with removing the dragon. The rest of you, take care of the wounded and support Garman.”

Rawly threw his arms around Grau.

“Please, Rawly…it’s my turn to be dying,” Grau said.

“Ah…I see that now. I thought you were just wet. But you haven’t pissed yourself. We ran into the cook on the way in, and…well. I can’t blame him.”

Grau sighed. “I’m not sure we’re welcome here any more, Rawly.”

“Aw,” Rawly said, like he couldn’t quite believe it.

No, they weren’t really safe even now. Besides their own squad, the men were still glaring, muttering, pointing. Even in Grau’s squad, she couldn’t trust the mood not to turn once the story was told and twisted. And they would all know, now, that either her golden band was a decoy, or her powers were much stronger than the band.

Dlara came to see them after delegating some orders. By this time, Grau and Velsa had taken shelter in the stable so Velsa stayed dry, although the rain was slowing now. They had already saddled Fern. Rawly had fetched Grau some healing potion, and he was looking much better.

“Sir—” Grau started to stand, but Dlara waved him back down onto the stool where he had been resting.