A cold swim Sand stung Deya’s face as the dragon burrowed deeper into the desert, though it felt not so much as burrowing as it did riding through a sand storm. The dragon’s fin in front of him cut through the sand like a knife through butter, leaving the rider in a bubble that closed again behind him. This was so much different than riding on a sled draped with a silk tent behind a Sun Dragon. The pace on a Sun Dragon was slow and gentle, leaving the occupant the comfort of sipping tea, reading a book, or simply napping on soft pillows. Deya stuck his hand out to the side of the Sand Dragon. The sand had thinned considerably since leaving the surface, leaving the question to how the dragon was maintaining buoyancy, or were they just freefalling at this point. Deya was fairly certain he could feel a damp wind blowing against him, but the darkness was so complete, he couldn’t even see his hand in front of his face. The man bent down to take a breath from the air hole. He inhaled and exhaled several times to oxygenate his blood, then sat up before pushing Deya down to take a breath. Deya resisted, he didn’t need a breath yet, but the man was too strong and forced him. The man then leaned over him to keep him pressed against the dragon. What happened next was so sudden, and so painful, Deya flailed his arms and legs trying to escape – it felt like a thousand needles had penetrated every inch of his body. They had plunged into ice cold water. But how? An underground river, lake, or maybe an ocean? The air being forced into his lungs from the dragon was the only warmth he could feel, though it made little difference. He was numb and no longer able to move his arms. The dragon changed directions to the right, then upward. Darkness swam at the edges of his consciousness, he felt the life seeping from his body. Deya’s next memory was being shaken by the big Wyra man in front of a campfire. The big man was shouting at Deya while he wrapped a blanket around him. The man was speaking in the strange Wyra language Ka used when he sang to the dragons. The Wyra language was usually inaudible when the Wyra spoke to their dragons, but there was a deeper version that was used between the Riders. Either way, the Wyra language was so alien that no human would ever be able to speak it. Deya pulled the blanket tight around himself and inched closer to the fire. Deya’s eyes tried to focus. He was still shivering violently despite practically trying to crawl into the fire. Torches were fixed to the walls bathing a dull flickering light on the ground. They seemed to be in a cave with a large lagoon glowing a bluish color from beneath it. “Deya!” a voice shouted. “Aerethel?” replied Deya through chattering teeth. Aerethel knelt next to Deya and shoved a flask out to him. “Here, drink this.” Deya eyed the flask suspiciously. “It’s not poison,” said Aerethel. “It’s surprising, but their medicine is better than ours. You’re in hypothermic shock, this will warm your blood and prevent pneumonia. I don’t even know how you’re conscious, you’re blue. Take it.” Deya didn’t resist further as Aerethel put the flask to his mouth. Whatever the medicine was, it tasted terrible, but the effect was nearly instant. A warmth began to spread outward to his arms and legs, causing him to feel sleepy. He closed his eyes. Aerethel grabbed his shoulders and shook him. “No, stay awake. If you fall asleep, you might not wake up.” Deya opened his eyes. “The others?” Aerethel pushed the flask back to Deya’s mouth for him to take another swallow of the foul tasting medicine. “They’re being kept in separate chambers until they can question us. They have me running back and forth translating. This is the Seth Clan, or in our language, the Green Clan. None of them speak Anse. Anyway, Arban’s already on his feet. And luckily, Arban didn’t know that the Wyra heart is three inches to the left of where a human’s heart is. He almost killed the Rider.” Deya tried to grin, but his face was still too frozen. “Good, remind me to increase his allowance.” Aerethel frowned. “We’re lucky he didn’t kill that Rider. As it is, the Rider’s dragon had to be pulled away from turning Arban into a dragon snack once he realized how badly Arban injured his Rider.” “And Tarkan?” replied Deya. Aerethel took the flask from Deya before setting it aside and pulling the blanket away. “We have to get you out of these wet clothes, they have some dry clothes here for you.” Deya started to protest, it was Tarkan’s job to help Deya dress, but usually only when he needed to wear a formal uniform, or don his battle armor, otherwise, Deya preferred to dress himself. Tarkan was notoriously bad at helping him dress. Deya couldn’t count how many times Tarkan had poked him with a pin, or pinched him with the armor. Deya was pretty sure Tarkan did it on purpose because he hated that part of his job, which was odd, because Deya had offered to employ a man-servant to help him when needed, but Tarkan wouldn’t approve any of the applicants for the job. Deya was surprised at how quickly and efficient Aerethel was at changing him out of the wet clothing and into dry clothes, and with none of the drama and awkwardness that Tarkan always caused. Aerethel would make a good mother someday. Aerethel narrowed her eyes and shook a finger at him. “And no, I don’t want the job as your valet.” Deya managed a grin at that. “You were about to tell me about Tarkan.” “He managed the best,” replied Aerethel. “About a hundred years ago, some Knights fell through thin ice on a river, and all of them died. Now they have an ice survival class at the Princes Academy for the Swordmaster students.” Deya nodded. “Ah, yes, I remember him telling me something about it. They had to go swimming in the Therus River every morning during the winter until they built up a tolerance to survive in ice water for twenty minutes. Did he fight his kidnappers like Arban did?” Aerethel shook her head. “The Rider that took him has a broken nose, but when Tarkan saw you disappear under the sand, he knew the only possibility to stay with you was to surrender. He’s been demanding to see you. They’ve had to put two dragons on to guard him.” Deya raised a brow. “Two dragons and two Wyra Riders to hold Tarkan? Remind me to raise his allowance as well. And what about Jargal?” Aerethel dropped her head. “Is Jargal alive?” “He is… but…” Deya’s eyes hardened. “What?” “He got one arrow off, the Rider that took him has his arm in a sling now. For someone not trained for combat, he did well.” “But?” “His heart stopped when he hit the ice water. Fortunately, the Seth Clan brought two Red Dragons with them.” “Red Dragons?” “That’s the Mar Clan, their clan is mostly medical persons,” said Aerethel. “Whenever a clan goes out to the deep desert, they always take at least one of the Red Dragons with them. The surgeon got Jargal’s heart started again, but he’s in critical condition. We won’t know anything for a few hours.” Deya turned towards the fire and held his hands out to warm them. “A dragon is taking care of Jargal?” “Both Dragon and Rider are surgeons, they’re a team,” explained Aerethel. “The Rider has fingers to use delicate instruments, but the dragon has genetic memories that go back thousands of years and can remember every similar case there’s ever been. Jargal really is in the best of care.” “I want to see him.” “I already asked, they’re not letting anyone else in to see him right now.” Deya closed his eyes. “Is Ka okay?” Aerethel grinned. “He’s fine, but they’re keeping him separated also. When they grabbed you, he went berserk. I was told it took five of the Riders to subdue him.” Deya opened his eyes and turned to look at the big Wyra man. “If we tell them Ka wasn’t a prisoner, they’re going to put him on trial for treason. I want you to repeat this exactly as I say it.” Aerethel nodded. “Okay.” Deya stood and faced the man. “I confess. Ka was my prisoner, I tortured and brainwashed him to obey me.” “Are you kidding? You seriously want me to say that?” “Exactly as I said it.” Aerethel shrugged and repeated to the man what Deya said. The Wyra man cocked his head to the side, then began laughing, even the dragon began laughing in the way dragons laugh. When the man was finished laughing, he bent down and spoke in that odd Wyra language. Aerethel translated as he spoke: “You are as good a friend to Kanath as he is to you, and I respect that, but you could no more hold Kanath a prisoner than you could hold the sun in your hand. We have followed you for months. We have seen you and Kanath each day on your morning run. Kanath has been teaching you the way of the dragon, and that alone is honorable. Never before has any Anse shown any interest in the truth about dragons, and it shows that you are making a true effort to learn.” The man reached out to touch Deya’s head. “Your hair is turning yellow, the color of your dragon. You are dragon bonded, the first Anse to ever bond with a dragon.” “Then why did you take us if you know Ka is not a prisoner, or a traitor?” “None of this has anything to do with Kanath, we were after you.” This took Deya back, he certainly hadn’t expected to learn he was the target of the kidnapping. “Why me?” The man smiled. “I would not trust the Anse to tell me which way is up, but you are dragon bonded. You cannot lie, your dragon won’t allow it.” The man paused for a moment to study Deya’s expression. “Ah, Kanath has not taught you all the nuances of being a Rider yet.” Deya waved his hand to dismiss the man’s ambiguous explanation. “So, you commit an act of war? The Empire will not allow this insult and injury to pass.” The man spread his hands apart in a gesture of the same dismissal Deya gave him. “It will take two years for you to assemble the Imperial Army, maybe more, but by then the desert will be impassable, and remain so for the next three to five hundred years.” “What?” Aerethel placed a hand on Deya’s arm. “Hold on, something isn’t right, there’s an echo.” “I know I’m not actually speaking to him,” replied Deya. “He’s repeating what his dragon is saying almost as fast as the dragon can speak in its silent tongue. They think I wouldn’t believe a dragon can talk.” “How did you know?” asked Aerethel. “This cave is like a sound chamber, it’s amplifying the softest whisper. I started hearing the dragon speaking as soon as I woke up.” “What do you want to do?” “Tell them I am the Buzaj Deya, Heir to the Tasj Kingdom. I will speak no further until my counselors are brought to me, to include Ka, and I want you sitting next to Jargal in case he wakes and needs a translator to speak with the surgeons.” Deya didn’t bother to wait for Aerethel to finish translating. He turned away from the man, sat facing the campfire, and closed his eyes. Shortly before he fell asleep, he felt the hot breath of the big dragon on his neck. Had the dragon accepted the terms for further talks, or was it going to bite his head off? Deya was too tired to stay awake and find out.