Invisible Rider Page 3

  The slate dragon lowered its head down to Dean, and glared at him. I thought its eyes might smoke, the glow in them was so ferocious.

  When the dragon opened its jaws—all yellow teeth and dripping saliva—to snatch Dean, I slung my faithum outward, like the lash of a whip.

  I wasn’t the only one to strike. The rest of the Alpha Team all managed to do something. I imagined even Rane probably sent something toward the dragon and Dean.

  It wasn’t much, and it wasn’t coordinated, but it was enough to startle the dragon into releasing his closing jaws.

  Dean stumbled backward, but held his footing. “Link together,” he called to the Alpha Team. “The rest of you, draw swords.”

  The shling of metal being drawn repeated everywhere around me, and my breath came in short bursts.

  It was the final stand of the Ooba people. And there was little chance it would be enough.

  “Now,” Dean roared.

  I closed my eyes, moving on instinct, and spread my arms out to the side. I linked my faithum to Rane right next to me, and reached for the others, finding them among the hundred of us as if they were beacons of light in a dark night. I snapped my magic loose.

  “Wait!” Shula yelled. “Stop!”

  But I couldn’t stop what I’d done—I didn’t even know what I’d done. I couldn’t pull it back.

  Whatever I could scrounge together, I’d flung straight at the slate dragon who, together with two others on the ground, kept coming at us.

  I closed my eyes again, preparing to ignore Shula and empty myself of whatever I had.

  “They have riders,” she said.

  My eyes whipped open.

  4

  There was no chance to halt what I’d set into motion. A wave of faithum hit the slate dragon.

  I suspected my faithum was joined by that of the others, but I wasn’t certain.

  The wave slapped the dragon hard enough to make it snap backward and rear. That gave Dean the opportunity to step away from its maws. Despite Dean’s retreat, there was no place he could go where the dragon wouldn’t reach him. I supposed that was why Dean stood his ground once he moved back.

  The slate dragon thrashed, seemingly reacting to our faithum. The beast moved this way and that, crushing the forest around it, encroaching upon the space of the two dragons trying to advance behind it.

  I saw large, glowing eyes that screamed death, and long talons that could eviscerate a grown man in one swift move. I noticed impenetrable scales and a tail, which whipped its deadly point back and forth.

  I saw no rider.

  “What’s Shula talking about?” I asked Rane, who stared at the dragons as I did.

  “There,” he said, pointing.

  I moved my head from side to side. “What? I don’t see anything.”

  “Behind its shoulders.”

  “Behind its shoulders? I don’t see—” Only then I did. “That’s not a person...”

  “Not in the normal sense, that’s for damn sure.”

  “Is that a human?”

  “I don’t know, but it looks a whole lot like our shadow assassin.”

  That it did. Man or woman, I had no idea. “You can barely see them.”

  “You can still see them better than we used to see you.”

  That was true, and I wasn’t sure what to make of it. I was questioning the humanity of this thing because it looked so different than the rest of us. But just a few days ago, I’d been one of the freaks with few points in common with the rest of humanity. Hypocrite, I thought before I roughly pushed the thought away.

  The wave of faithum finished rolling across the slate dragon, and moved across the two behind it. More of the beasts descended from the skies and landed on the treetops, which crunched and crashed beneath their weight.

  The slate dragon drew back to attack again, when Dean yelled, “Stop!”

  Amazingly, the dragon hesitated—but only for a few moments. Then it completed the arc of its motion, its maws snapping a few times before reaching Dean, and then opening wide to swallow the Dragon Force leader in one, big, toothy bite.

  I stopped breathing and waited for the crunching sound of inevitability, which would deliver the death of the only man among the Ooba people who seemed to have any kind of answers for me. The man who had a connection with me I’d only shared with my twin. I wanted to call out to him, to ask him what he was doing, but there was no point. In seconds, he’d either die, or he wouldn’t. I didn’t have time to gather another wave of faithum, or to send it, for all the good it did. Sure, it halted the dragons’ approach, but it didn’t stop it.

  What we needed now was more than delay. We needed a way out of this mess, and I could see none.

  I reached for Rane’s hand and squeezed it tight. He pulled me to his side. I reached for Traya behind me. Without looking, I snatched her hand and pulled her to my other side.

  I steeled myself to watch the end of a brilliant man, summarized in a few dastardly crunching movements, realizing already I couldn’t blame the beasts for actions that were simply within their nature.

  Humans were never meant to join with dragonkind. It was crystal clear now. The sacred purpose of the Ooba was more of Pumpoo’s nonsense. And my own sacred purpose, the one I’d believed I’d found intertwined with this man, was nonsense as well.

  My pulse fluttered as I watched Dean kneel before the dragon—before death. He bowed his head, exposing the back of his head and neck, along with all the life-giving arteries and bones, to the dragon. Saliva dripped and coated the back of his neck, and ran down his shirt. He didn’t wipe it away, but rather put his hands in the air, palms forward in the universal sign of surrender.

  Dean wasn’t fighting his fate. If ever a man had surrendered to his death more gracefully, I couldn’t imagine.

  I squeezed Rane and Traya hard enough to convince myself I could draw on their strength. Because I needed it then. I hadn’t realized it before, but Dean had become the father I longed returned to me, and the older brother who was also gone. He’d become my teacher and guide along a path no one else alive had ever walked.

  I needed him. I’d only just begun to understand myself and what I might contribute to this world during this lifetime. I couldn’t lose him. I simply couldn’t.

  I realized I didn’t have time. The dragon poked out a forked tongue and slithered above Dean’s head. Next, he’d eat him.

  But I did it anyway. I pulled Rane and Traya closer to me, felt Rosie pressed against my legs as usual, and drew on their strength. I combined it with mine and allowed my desperation to build within me. It mixed with my fury, with my sense of unfairness and fleeting hope for a brighter, purposeful future.

  I didn’t have time to allow it to build more. As soon as it was enough to manage some kind of result, I released it—but I didn’t fully let go.

  Like a whip, I held onto the end of it, and I lashed it against the slate dragon with all my might. My eyes closed on their own, and a different view of the world panned. Suddenly, I saw colors and energy, all that went unseen when my eyes were open.

  I saw the dragon, a mass of slithering, vibrating colors—all dark. It was the energy Dean spoke of, it had to be. It was the dragon’s life force.

  I envisioned my whip circling the energy like a lasso. In this new awakened sight, I could make out the shadow rider with ease. To my surprise, his energy wasn’t like that of the dragon’s. It was bright and light. It pulsed instead of slithered.

  Regardless, I looped the rider into my lasso, and yanked. I jerked the lasso back so hard that I lost my balance and fell. I tripped over Rosie, scrambled not to hurt her, and landed hard. I snapped my hands out to stall my fall, and jarred my wrists painfully.

  Rane and Traya helped me up, and when I opened my eyes to look, the slate dragon was upended, laying awkwardly on its side. The dragon landed atop the shadow rider. Even without searching for the rider’s energy, I realized it was gone.

  I hadn’t intended it—mos
tly because I hadn’t taken the time to plan anything—but my faithum had extinguished the life from the shadow rider.

  Dean turn to stare at me, wide-eyed.

  I met his stare evenly. I’d killed someone. I hadn’t meant it, but I’d still killed, and I didn’t yet know how to feel about it.

  5

  Dean gave me a meaningful look that left me longing to understand all that was behind it. He turned before I could decide whether I’d done something bad or good. Killing was probably never easy, but it had been necessary—hadn’t it?

  I glanced at Rane, seeking reassurance. He only returned a terrified look. Better than anyone, he realized what I’d done, and I believed he looked frightened for me. Traya simply seemed sad and confused.

  So I waited for either condemnation or acceptance of my actions. My heart hammered, and breathing returned in a gush, settling into shallow bursts.

  I sensed dozens of eyes on me. My skin crawled with questions and judgment—or perhaps the judgment was just my own. After all, those that surrounded me were warriors. Surely if anyone could understand what I’d done, it was they.

  The slate dragon struggled to reclaim its feet. Its body wasn’t made to drop at that angle. Like a turtle on its back, it rocked this way and that, until finally, it gathered enough momentum to launch it further onto its side. As it gathered its feet beneath it, it searched me out of the crowd. Its blazing eyes found me. Involuntarily, I took a step back.

  The dragon’s glare promised death and destruction. My instincts shouted at me to run, but my feet rooted to the spot as if they alone realized there was nowhere I could go that this dragon—that any dragon—wouldn’t find me.

  But then the dragon surprised me. It bent to the ground and licked at the shadow rider with its forked tongue, prodding the body, crushed and limp. The shadow rider didn’t spring to life as I suspected the dragon hoped.

  The man pulsed in and out of focus, as if his body were flickering in and out of existence. Like a fading light show, the effect eventually dimmed. The body, which had been so entrenched in shadows that it was impossible to identify clearly, settled into the image of a normal human being.

  The man looked very much like the people of our tribe, only his skin was darker than ours, and his features broader, but no less intelligent. His hair was coarser, trailing across his shoulder in a loose braid. He no longer had the appearance of a freak. With a kind expression on his face, he looked like a regular villager.

  He almost just killed Dean, I reminded myself, because I was starting to freak out. None of the dragon forcers had killed. I had.

  The dragon licked at the man again, nudging him forcefully with his tongue. When the man didn’t respond, the dragon turned on us and let rip a ferocious roar that promised imminent doom.

  My actions had condemned us all to death.

  We were all going to die, anyway, I told myself. I half believed it too.

  The slate dragon, fully righted to its two taloned feet, advanced on us, Dean still at the front. The beast pulled its head back and then unleashed a torrent of fire. Dean, and those immediately behind him, predicted it sooner than I had.

  They dove out of the way, literally jumping and leaping into the shrubs and trees that bordered the path we’d been carving, without concern for what they might land on. Anything was better than being burned to a crisp.

  That provided the dragon with more space to advance on the rest of us. Whatever plants had covered the path we tread, crinkled and burned down to nothing. And the dragon took three giant steps toward us, its eyes trained on me.

  “Faithum,” Rane whispered, barely eking out the word as if the dragon had already eaten his tongue.

  Rane was right. I had to do it again—if I could. I shouldn’t feel badly about one death when this dragon promised the destruction of us all.

  I tried to close my eyes, but failed. The dragon held mine, and I couldn’t stop looking. It was as though I were in a trance, and the dragon wouldn’t release me. More likely, I was almost paralyzed with fear, and wouldn’t close my eyes out of fear of missing the dragon’s next move.

  With my eyes open, watching every move that brought on the dragon’s further advancement, I reached for my faithum. The effort fizzled out and evaporated into nothing. I was too unnerved to manage anything of consequence.

  I started trembling with fear, wishing I weren’t.

  The dragon pulled its head back again. I recognized the move this time as the precursor of another stream of flame, but I still didn’t react in time.

  Rane yanked me off the path, and Traya shoved me, falling on top of me in a heap.

  I turned to look as soon as I could. The only one who remained in the flame’s path was Rosie. My chest seized with panic until I remembered she was a dragon. Fire shouldn’t harm her.

  But shouldn’ts weren’t enough to bring my heart rate down to something manageable, and I scrambled to disentangle myself from my siblings and rush to her aid.

  I stumbled and tripped, falling face first in the path next to Rosie. The small shoots and grasses beneath my face crinkled and charred. I yanked my face upward before I could burn, and rushed to Rosie. I pulled her into an embrace. “Are you all right, girl?” I ran my hands along all sides of her, checking for injury, forgetting about the impending danger that loomed overhead, the one that would probably eventually kill us all. I’d honor my promise to take care of Rosie until the end.

  Rosie nuzzled me and wagged her tail. A tear of relief slid down my face, and I angrily wiped it away.

  The slate dragon pulled its head back again, and I pulled Rosie off the path with me. She was immune to the larger dragon’s fire, but still. It was an attack. I wouldn’t stand for her being victim to it, even if it was only symbolic.

  Fire streamed along the path again, and as it began to veer toward our hiding place, a voice cut the crackling sounds that overwhelmed us.

  It was a language I didn’t understand, but the dragon clearly did. It stopped what it was doing instantly and began to retreat.

  What the hell?

  Another sharp, unintelligible bark had the slate dragon turning around and facing its back toward us. I knew less about dragons than nearly every forcer there. But even I knew that dragons never turned their backs on you.

  Not unless someone ordered them to.

  In all the time the dragon forcers had worked with dragons, they’d never managed to command them to do anything.

  Yet someone just had, and I was guessing it was another shadow rider.

  If the shadow riders could command dragons, what would they do to us?

  6

  I crept back to the path, leading Rosie. I stood cautiously to the side of it, and strained my neck to see what would happen next. Rane and Traya popped up next to us, craning their heads between bushes to watch the shadow rider who’d blown our minds wide open.

  I’d killed a man, a dragon rider.

  Pumpoo had claimed that a great seer had predicted that one of us would ride a dragon, but I hadn’t believed the former chieftain—not really.

  But dragon riding was possible. There was no denying it.

  My mouth dropped open as another unintelligible command directed the slate dragon to take to the skies. Its takeoff was cumbersome but swift. The dragon, too large for the space it occupied, had carved room from the forest that surrounded it on all sides. The acute crunching of branches marked its initial rise a few feet off the ground. Another pump of its gargantuan wings, and a small tree toppled over, leaving the forcers closest to Shula scrambling to get out of the way. A third pump, and the slate dragon cleared the lowest of the tree tops. A fourth, and it broke free, once more blocking the sunlight and the half dozen dragons, which continued to swarm above us—awaiting orders, I presumed.

  With the slate dragon gone, a huge gaping space remained, a divide between us and the shadow riders—because I assumed the smaller moss-green dragon in the back was topped by a rider, even if I couldn’t make
one out.

  I swallowed with difficulty. The lead dragon, one nearly as large as the slate one, stalked toward us. Its scales were blue, but still somehow multi-toned, and they shone with iridescence in the sunshine. I realized the slate dragon must have climbed high enough to allow the sunlight to reach us again. But my eyes were trained on the blue dragon, and all its knife-sharp teeth and glowing eyes.

  It took measured steps forward. I couldn’t help but admire the grace of design of the violent creature. Its muscles rippled with each movement, its steps impossibly silent for a beast of its size.

  But I feared its rider more than I feared the blue dragon. With all the centuries the dragon forcers had invested into working with the ferocious beasts, dragon riding had never been achieved. Anyone who’d manage it was to be feared—admired at the very least. Add to that the fact that the riders were only shadows, and well, I was praying that all the forcers with me wouldn’t be made to pay for my actions.

  Would the shadow rider who controlled the dragons realize I hadn’t meant to kill the slate dragon’s rider? That it had been an accident, a reaction of defense when our lives were in danger? Surely, a reasoning mind would deduce that, but we knew nothing of these shadow people. Up until a few days ago, we’d had no idea we shared the planet with them. Were they reasonable, or savages? The way they handled the dragons suggested brilliance, and I hoped that boded well.

  The shadow rider atop Blue came into focus—more or less. At least I could see the rider’s edges, and make out where he sat on the dragon—right behind its haunches, out of range of its snapping teeth and piercing tail. I could follow the shadow man’s movements, something I hadn’t been able to do with the assassin that entered our camp and killed three of our scouts. It seemed that when the shadow people didn’t move quickly, it was easier for my eyes to make sense of the image they were seeing.

  Another command I didn’t understand, this one softer, and Blue stopped advancing. It was a good thing too, because Blue was only steps from crushing Dean, who stood in the middle of its path, unmoving.