‘They are beautiful.’ He spoke the words aloud, sorrowfully, and felt her bask in the compliment.

‘Beautiful is right. And the leather from them will last hundreds of years, according to the tales. But they’re too big for us to harvest. They’d rot before we got down the river.’ Jess was edging towards her on a fallen tree. Branches covered in leaves were both impediments and handholds for him as he sidled along it. He halted where he was, and laughed aloud at Sedric’s scowl. ‘Don’t glare at me. You know it’s true. Keep her calm. All the debris has been loosened by her struggling, so the pack isn’t as sturdy here. I don’t want her to knock me into the water and have it close up over my head.’ He grunted as he worked his way cautiously along the floating tree.

He paused a man’s length away from her. He was watching the dragon, not Sedric. He knew Sedric had no choice but to help him. ‘When I get closer, tell her to extend her head towards me. I’ll get a rope around her neck and then I’ll try to lead her in close to one of the big trees. As long as she’s afloat and doesn’t fight me, I should be able to get her where I want her.’

He knew he couldn’t save her. She was going to die. If Jess succeeded, at least her death would be quick. And it would serve a purpose. At least one of them could go on to live a decent life. The hunter would make it quick. He’d said so.

Danger? Relpda was watching Jess make his final approach. What was she sensing from him?

The hunter had nearly reached her. He balanced at the thick end of the fallen tree, just short of the upthrust of muddy roots that ended it. He was shaking out the rope, and eying the dragon as he did so. Sedric marked that he still gripped the fish spear in one hand as he worked. His darting glance went from the dragon to Sedric and back again as he studied her neck and measured out line. ‘Keep her calm, now,’ he reminded Sedric. ‘There’s not a lot of line here. Once I get the rope around her neck, I’m going to have to snub her up pretty close to the tree. But that will keep her head above the water afterwards.’

It wasn’t something he was doing. He was here, but he couldn’t stop it from happening. If he tried to intervene, Jess was capable of killing him as well. And what good would that do the dragon? It was her inevitable end. He watched it, feeling that he owed her that much, to witness her end. I’m sorry, he thought at her, and received only confusion in response.

‘Okay, I’m ready.’ Jess was holding out a large loop of line. He had the fish spear trapped under his arm as he held the noose to one side of his body. ‘Tell her to reach her head out towards me. Slowly. Tell her I’m going to help her.’

Sedric took a deep breath. His throat kept closing up. Give in to the inevitable, he counselled himself. ‘Relpda,’ Sedric said softly. ‘Listen to me, now. Listen carefully.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

Rescue

Night had been every bit as miserable as Thymara had feared it would be. The keepers had banded together to build a sort of platform, layering drift logs in alternating angles on top of each other. Leafy branches were torn down to provide cushioning over the bumpy logs. The resulting ‘raft’ had not been sturdy, but there had been room for them to huddle together and commiserate while the mosquitoes and gnats feasted on them. There was no flat place to sleep, so Thymara had balanced her body on one of the wider logs. She had considered taking to the trees for the night, but had finally decided to stay closer to the dragons and the other keepers. Every time she started to doze off, Alum’s dragon would trumpet mournfully and she’d rouse. Too many times that night, tears had followed. The small sounds she heard from the others on the raft told her that she was not alone in her fears. Towards morning, not even the sorrow and sounds, let alone the buzzing, bites and branch nubs could keep Thymara alert any longer. She had dozed down past the nightmares and grief to a deep sleep and had awakened chill and stiff and damp with morning dew. The flooding was subsiding slowly. The high water line on the nearby tree trunks was now shoulder-high on her. Next to her, Alise slept deeply, curled in a ball. Tats was just beyond her, breathing huskily. Jerd, she noted, slept tucked into the curve of Greft’s body. For a moment, she envied them the warmth they shared and then dismissed the thought. That wasn’t for her. Boxter and Nortel were perched on the edge of the platform, staring out at the flooded forest and talking softly. The dragons were hunched on their log perches. They looked uncomfortable and precarious, but they were sleeping heavily. The chill of the water and the deep shade of the trees had plunged them into deep lethargy. They probably wouldn’t stir until mid-morning, or later.

Thymara nudged Sylve and whispered, ‘I’m going to see if I can find us some food,’ and then picked her way through her sleeping comrades. Log by log, she clambered over the pack of floating debris to the closest major tree trunk. It had no branches within reach but her claws served her well as she scaled it. It was strange how good it felt to be back in the trees again. Safer. She might still be hungry, thirsty and insect-bitten, but the trees had always befriended and sheltered her.

She had not gone far when the forest rewarded her for her efforts. She found a trumpet vine, and drank the nectary water from the blossoms with only a small twinge of guilt. She had no way to carry the meagre mouthful that each flower offered her. She’d drink now, renew her own strength, and hope she’d find something she could transport back to her friends. There was not really enough liquid to quench her thirst, but at least her tongue no longer felt like leather. When she had emptied every flower, she climbed on.

The exertion required a different use of her arms and shoulders than she had become accustomed to, and soon the injury on her back began to leak fluid again. It did not hurt as much as it had, though she could feel the skin pull every time she reached for a new handhold. The tickle of liquid down her spine was distracting and annoying, but there was nothing she could do about it. Twice she saw birds that would have been easy prey for her if she’d had a bow, and once she hastily dropped down to a lower limb and changed trees when she came across a large constrictor snake who lifted his head and eyed her with interest. At that moment, she decided that her decision to sleep on the raft instead of in the trees had been a good one.

She was looking for a good horizontal branch to allow her to cross to another tree when she encountered Nortel. He was sitting on the branch that was her chosen path, and from the way he greeted her, she suspected he’d seen her and watched her progress down the trunk.

‘Find anything to eat?’ he asked her.

‘Not yet. I got some water from a trumpet vine, but I haven’t found any fruit or nuts yet.’