The Boon of Alon

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Whatever Chama wants to say to me about Suthi, she isn't in a hurry to do it next morning. Though I don't think it's a good sign that she and Tack are muttering to each other as we trickle out of the monastery and down the stairs. Suthi trails after them, hands flexing at her sides like she's too full of nervous energy to keep them still. I know the feeling.

But her presence isn't the only thing different this morning. When I look down from the top of the stairs, there's a silver dragon squatting right at the base of the trail, tail flicking in agitation. From the extremely wide berth everyone's giving him, it must be Iamon, even before I'm close enough to recognize him for sure.

Weird. But it means today I have an excuse to pass by him and say hello—I couldn't avoid passing him anyway. I cautiously cut my path through the hillside scrub closer than everyone else, but not by much.

"Morning!" I call. I barely even glance his way—too busy trying not to trip on uneven ground—but I don't want to make a big deal out of this, anyway. Maybe someone else got to his favorite spot first, or something; I'm not about to ask him why he's here.

I think I'm in the clear, for a moment—he's more behind me than beside—and then there's a thump, thump, thump that shakes the ground and something hits me hard in the side. My bucket flies out of my hands and I slam into the ground, disoriented.

And then Iamon's over me, snorting smoke into my face. Oh fuck. Oh fuck—I'm going to die.

"ANNOYING LITTLE BUG," he roars into my head. "LISTEN."

I struggle for breath. His claw is on my chest, pinning me down. There's shouting nearby but panic is making my ears ring as I scrabble uselessly for freedom. I got his attention but gods, not like this. I don't want to go like this.

But he stays there, breathing in my face, teeth visible but not even fully bared. I start to catch my breath. After the initial wave of panic has crashed and ebbed, I find the claw on me is heavy, but not painful.

He's not going to kill me.

"Bug," he says again, and he sounds annoyed, but not actually as scornful as I expected. More...grumbly. "You will tell this to your mentor."

"Huh?" is all I can manage to say.

"Tell your mentor," he repeats. "Gred will betray the riders."

"...What?" Gred, who first taught me how to search the archive? Rider of Ventur?

"You heard me," he growls. "Gred will betray the riders."

Fuck. This is a prophecy, isn't it?

"Hold on," I stammer. I like Gred, and Iamon wrecked my life. Is he just trying to wreck Gred's, too? "How do you—why would he–?"

Iamon bares his teeth, mere inches from my face. Right. Maybe this is not the time or place to protest.

"Okay," I relent, so he does too, retreating to let me up. He gives me one last hard glare, then turns and gallops off down to the lake, further away from the crowd. Slowly, I sit up.

Of course, everyone on the lakeside is looking my way. Just uphill, Chama and Tack are both holding Suthi back, as though she was actually going to try to fight Iamon to get to me. Fuck, she probably would.

"I'm okay!" I shout to—well, everyone. I get up shakily—I'm gonna have so many new bruises by lunchtime—and wave, and that gets most of the crowd slowly back to whatever they were doing. Suthi's still straining against the riders holding her, though. Unfortunately, since Chama's there, I have to approach.

"Kid, you're gonna get yourself killed," Chama says flatly, while Suthi's eyes flick over me head to toe to head. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm fine," I say. "He just..." Deep breath. "Wanted to tell me something."