For Promise Yet Unbroken Page 3

  THREE

  With the onset of winter and the first cold snap of the season, Sheriff Sullivan ordered Jeremey to report to Kyle Sanders' place for cold weather gear. Kyle was nice enough, for Fair Valley, but he was starting to go senile and his mind tended to wander off whenever it was least convenient. Fortunately, his assistants were long used to his behavior and could get him refocused with a minimum of fuss.

  It took three days for his gear to be ready. From what Jeremey had been able to make out from Kyle's mutterings, he was "too scrawny" and a smaller size than the rest of the riders. What that meant for Jeremey, as he discovered upon returning to pick up his gear, was that they'd had to make him a whole new outfit rather than tailor a used one.

  He clutched his bundle to his chest as he stumbled out of Kyle's place, overwhelmed with more emotions than he could name. He hadn't had new clothing since he'd been a child back in Deadwood Gulch and his parents had still been alive. New clothes were an extravagance Aunt Sue wouldn't waste on Jeremy. He'd made do with his cousin Jimmy's cast-offs, or occasionally something cut down from Uncle Robert's old clothes.

  As he stepped out into the sunlight, Promise, who'd been waiting patiently outside, made an odd noise. Jeremey gave a shaky laugh and held up the heavy fleep-hide jacket so the dragon could see.

  "Winter gear, see? So I stay warm on patrol this winter, and whenever you take it into your head to go for a little flight."

  Promise snorted.

  Jeremey rolled his eyes. "Don't even start. I was freezing by the time you finally made up your fussy mind. Never knew a dragon to be so choosy about what he eats."

  That got Promise's attention. Jeremey suddenly found himself with a face full of sapphire scales as Promise nudged his chest.

  "That a hint?" Jeremey laughed. "Okay, let me change and we'll go."

  Promise snorted again but waited patiently as Jeremey found an unoccupied corner where he could shimmy into his new clothes. It was strange, having something that actually fit, and he took a few moments to enjoy the feel of it while Promise watched.

  Jeremey posed. "Well? What do you think?"

  Promise eyed him for a long moment, then quick as lightning darted out his neck and snatched away Jeremey's hat.

  "Hey!" Jeremey lunged for it, but Promise held his hat up out of reach. "Give that back, or I won't take you hunting for a week you devious—"

  Promise dropped the hat back down on Jeremey's head and turned his body so that his saddle was in easy reach. It was such a clear hint that Jeremey had to laugh. Dragons.

  Fleep meat was the primary food source for Noman's settlers, and by extension their dragons. Occasionally one or another of the dragons would get bored eating nothing but fleep and would catch something while on patrol or go out with their rider while they were off duty. Jeremey and Promise went out more often than most, as Promise seemed to have a preference for werrik and Jeremey didn't mind indulging him.

  Besides, Promise had a knack for finding werrik nests and everyone appreciated fresh eggs. No one had yet been able to domesticate the stupid birds, so raiding nests was still the best way of acquiring eggs. Jeremey wasn't overly fond of werrik meat, but he definitely enjoyed their eggs.

  Still grinning, Jeremey swung up into his saddle and nudged Promise toward the gates. "All right, picky. Let's go find you some birds to terrorize."

  Promise needed no second invitation, taking off for the gates at a rapid lope. Jeremey didn't bother trying to direct him, as Promise knew where he was going better than Jeremey did. He did wave at the watch rider—Emmett—as they passed through, although as usual his dragon paid them more mind than Emmett did. Then they were clear and Promise headed for the nearest outcropping of rock, spreading his wings wide before they'd even reached it.

  They were in the air almost before Jeremey even had a chance to brace for it, winging their way toward a smattering of rocks and trees where the werrik flocks tended to congregate. Jeremey was very glad of his new gear, as flying during the much warmer summer months wasn't bad, but having the wind rushing by him when the air had winter's bite to it was a different matter.

  Since the werrik copse was within the cleared area patrolled by riders, it was only a few minutes ride before they arrived. Promise circled once, possibly picking out the fattest bird, before folding his wings and diving. Jeremey held on for dear life, bracing for the hard snap as Promise pulled out of his dive and not letting himself relax until they were safely on the ground with their prize.

  Jeremey slid down out of his saddle and went looking for eggs while Promise was busy eating. Dumb as werrik were, there was no guarantee the eggs would actually be in the nests where they ought to be. He couldn't remember if teacher had ever mentioned why werrik would sometimes lay their eggs in random places, but he knew to watch where he was walking, at least, just in case.

  He'd found nine eggs by the time Promise caught up. That was about all that he could fit in his saddle bags so he tucked them away and pulled a few leaves off the nearby scrub so that he could finish cleaning the parts of Promise that the dragon couldn't reach himself.

  "Happy now?" Jeremey asked, stroking between Promise's horns.

  Promise made a trilling sound and nudged Jeremey, nearly knocking him over.

  Jeremey laughed. "I'll take that as a yes."

  Promise trilled again and licked Jeremey's face before lowering his head for more petting. After wiping his face off on his sleeve and grumbling fondly, Jeremey complied.

  FOUR

  It was going to be a hell of a scorching summer, Jeremey thought, given how the end of spring was behaving. Too many hot, dry days and not enough rain. The lack of precipitation over the winter months had made patrol more comfortable for Jeremey and the rest of the riders, but now they were going to have to irrigate the crops or they'd all wither. He wondered if the Fair Valley riders pitched in to help. He couldn't remember, but it sure sounded like the kind of thing Charlie would have his riders do.

  Jack Sullivan, however, was not Charlie Colcord, so there was really no way of knowing how he'd react. From the first time Jeremey had met him, he'd seemed to have a stick lodged firmly up his ass, and he hadn't unbent any since. Charlie was so concerned for the settlement's well-being he might as well have been mayor—and Mayor Burke sure seemed set on making him Mr. Mayor, at least, though when Jeremey had left Deadwood Gulch, she still hadn't even managed to get him to call her by her given name—but Jack Sullivan seemed to prefer to keep the peace from a distance.

  Still, if the crops died, no one ate.

  Tipping his hat down further to reduce the glare of the hot suns overhead, Jeremey nudged Promise forward into the low hills that comprised the northern boundary of Fair Valley territory. They'd never been explored all that thoroughly, mostly for lack of time, but all too often retreating lycodo packs tended to head this way, as had that nasty caraca last month that had taken a bite out of Ben's leg.

  Scouting the hills would likely be a fair sight safer with two riders—and therefore two dragons—but Zack had ditched him the moment they'd gotten out of sight of town. Unsurprising, really, given how aggravated all the other riders got when their dragons always deferred to Promise. He was sort of surprised it hadn't happened sooner. Still, he wondered what Promise had done to make the other dragons so terrified of crossing him. He wasn't particularly unfriendly; compared to Zorevan he was downright sociable, and if there was any dragon to be feared, it was that one.

  Yet even Zorevan, while inspiring plenty of fear amongst the colonists, had never engendered this strange deference the dragons showed Promise. The other dragons at Deadwood Gulch hadn't treated Zorevan too differently than any other dragon, aside from staying well out of reach when he was cranky. They'd wrestled, head-butted, and played together, and some of the more daring dragons had even occasionally nipped. Of course, Zorevan nipped harder, but that still hadn't seemed to stop them from trying.

  With Promise, they didn't even try.

  "S
o what'd you do to make them all scared of you?" Jeremey mused aloud, sliding one hand down Promise's sleek neck scales. The dragon stopped walking and snaked his neck around to snort in Jeremey's face.

  "What?" Jeremey asked, arching a brow. "It's a valid question."

  Promise snorted again and turned his head back around in the proper direction, resuming his smooth amble. Jeremey made a face at the back of his head, but it almost immediately melted into a grin. There was something about being with Promise that lightened his heart and took the weight off his shoulders. It made him feel more like his old self, before he'd suddenly seen first-hand how harsh and unforgiving the world could be.

  Although he'd never had one before, being first the resident troublemaker and then the resident outcast, he suspected it was much like having a friend. Not the same, of course, as Promise was just an animal and couldn't really understand, but he sure seemed to understand enough. Enough that it made a difference.

  Even if he did seem to seek out mischief almost as much as Jeremey had when he was younger. Ike was still blaming Jeremey for the incident with the water trough.

  The first few hills were fairly low, mere bumps compared with those deeper in, but they moved cautiously all the same. This time of year, there was no danger from rachya, as they had begun their summer hibernation, but there were still plenty of other deadly creatures on Noman.

  One hand on his blaster, the other hovering over his lasso, Jeremey kept a wary lookout as they proceeded deeper into the hills. On a largely unexplored planet such as Noman, you never really knew what you might find when you ventured beyond known territory, but the risks were generally worth it. The original settlers had lost almost everything during those first few years, and many things had yet to be replaced or compensated for. There were a few daring individuals who went out to expand their knowledge of their home, but not nearly as many as there would be on other, less deadly worlds.

  Noman, Jeremey knew, had been a terrible mistake. The team that had originally surveyed the planet hadn't stayed long enough to discover that the native fauna tended to be both fearless and deadly, nor did they connect the illness that swept through them after they'd returned home with their brief stay on Noman. As a result, the colonists hadn't a clue what they were walking into until the dying began.

  Two-thirds of the settlers had been wiped out, along with most of their animals and much of their supplies. Messages sent to the galactic federation went unanswered, the cries for help falling upon deaf ears. One man, Daniel Sullivan, great-grandfather of Jack Sullivan, had found and tamed Noman's great dragons, allowing the desolate colonists to slowly learn to stand on their own and begin to rebuild their shattered world.

  It was a long, slow, ongoing process, and the dangers remained great. Often those who went out to scout and explore never returned at all, making each successive generation a little less willing to take the risk. These days it was mostly the riders, with the extra protection provided by their dragons, who made the effort. New animals, new plants, new ores, new sources of water. All the things that were important to a growing colony—that was what they looked for.

  Spying a gully that looked as though it may have potential, Jeremey nudged Promise toward it. The first fifty meters or so contained nothing of interest, but a little farther in he saw something that made him sit up in excitement. Giving Promise the command to stop, he slid down out of the saddle and ranged ahead a short distance, kneeling in the cool earth next to the small plant—one he'd never seen before.

  "Look, Promise!" he said in elation even as he kicked himself for not bringing any digging supplies. "No one's seen this one yet! I wonder what it—"

  He broke off at the sound of a snarl, not a sound made by any dragon, and his head snapped up as Promise hissed a warning in response. All his blood felt as though it had turned to ice as he stared at the rachya, his mind screaming that it was impossible. Rachya were dormant during the summer. But even as fear gripped him, he saw that the beast was too thin, almost haggard, and its fur looked matted and unkempt. It hadn't eaten enough to go into hibernation—yet. To the starving rachya, Jeremey and Promise had to look like a feast.

  Fear turned his blood to ice as the rachya stalked closer, teeth bared and claws out. His instincts screamed at him to do something, anything, but to no avail. He couldn't move, couldn't think, caught in the memory of a child's overwhelming fear. This was it. This was the time it finally got him.

  There came a furious roar, and his view of the rachya was abruptly blocked by a multitude of sapphire scales. It took him a moment to process what that meant, during which there were two angry snarls—one threatening, one defensive—and then everything came flooding back.

  "Promise!" he shouted, yanking out his blaster and ducking around the dragon's legs. The thought of becoming dinner had petrified him; the thought of Promise becoming dinner enraged him.

  His first shot went slightly wide as Promise snapped at the rachya and Jeremey overcompensated in avoiding him. The second one caught the rachya in the shoulder, causing it to bellow in pain and anger. Jeremey caught a glimpse of claws and ducked, feeling something catch in his vest and tear a bit before snagging. He thrashed, trying to free himself, unable to get to the fastenings. Then Promise's tail connected with the rachya's side, sending both of them flying.

  Jeremey hit the ground hard, getting the breath knocked from his lungs, and scrambled to get back to his feet even as his head spun from the rough landing. He saw the rachya—the collision with the ground must have knocked him loose, as he was no longer caught on its claws—and Promise, who lifted his head to the sky and made the most hair-raising cry Jeremey had ever heard.

  He was so distracted by Promise that he almost didn't notice the rachya moving until it was too late. The outstretched claws just barely missed him, far too close for comfort, and Jeremey suddenly realized his hand was empty. Where was his blaster?

  Before the thought was complete, he had his lasso in hand. Even a lesser weapon was better than none at all. He thumbed it on and lashed it across the rachya's face, not waiting for its howl of pain before diving back toward where he'd landed, praying his blaster was there.

  It wasn't, but a glint of metal caught his eye a short distance away. He scrambled for it, coming up with dirt and rocks and, finally, his blaster. He rolled, coming up on one knee, ready to fire.

  And stopped.

  Where once the narrow valley had only held himself, Promise, and the rachya, it now seemed to be covered in dragons. Five of them had the rachya trapped between them, two drawing its attention while the others attacked, and even as he watched a small, copper-colored dragon took a bloody bite out of the beast's hip.

  Jeremey looked away, leaving the dragons to their kill, his gaze automatically seeking out Promise amidst the sea of glittering dragon scales. He wasn't far, and as Jeremey started toward him, the other dragons moved out of the way, allowing him unhindered access. Promise lowered his head to greet him as he neared and Jeremey carefully stroked the sleek scales there.

  Safe. They were safe, alive, and, as far as he could tell, unharmed. He reluctantly released Promise's head to check him over for injuries, relieved when his search turned up nothing. He'd never have forgiven himself if Promise had gotten hurt because he'd been too scared to react.

  He returned his blaster and lasso to their holsters, stroking Promise's head once more before seeking out his saddle. Once there, he turned Promise toward home, very carefully not looking back at the other dragons, the crunching sounds more than enough to make him shudder. Or perhaps his shudders were the result of the brush with death catching up to him again. He didn't want to think about what might have transpired if those wild dragons hadn't shown up when they did.

  Why they'd rescued him was another thought entirely. He'd never even heard of wild dragons behaving in such a manner before, not even in the tallest tales. What had made them come, and in such numbers? As far as anyone knew, dragons in the wild flew solo, or in v
ery small groups. This overwhelming presence was baffling.

  Or… was it? Sneaking a brief look back and immediately regretting it, Jeremey recalled the strange sound Promise had made after knocking the rachya away from Jeremey. Was it actually possible that Promise had called the dragons? What would that mean if he had?

  He wondered just how much they really knew about the dragons of Noman. Everyone knew the story of how Daniel Sullivan had saved the colony by taming the first dragon and organizing the riders to protect the settlements, but nowhere in the story did it say how Daniel had accomplished the feat—or really much at all, now that Jeremey thought about it. He'd thought he would learn the secret to taming dragons when he became a rider, but he hadn't really learned anything. He hadn't even figured out if Ike and the others had been tricking him that day, or if lassoing a dragon was really the way it was normally done. And if it really was done that way, what made the dragons come tamely along? It certainly wasn't the powered-down shock lasso.

  Not that the lasso had been an issue at all with himself and Promise. That had all been Promise's doing. Which brought him right back around to the original question. If Promise had called the other dragons, if he'd consciously chosen Jeremey that day, what did that say about dragons? He knew dragons were smart, but maybe they were a lot smarter than he, or anyone, really knew.

  The sounds of civilization drew him out of his ruminations, and he realized with a start that they were all the way back at the Fair Valley settlement. They passed through the gate without incident, but they hadn't gotten very far before someone let out a blistering oath.

  "Lycodo's teeth, Jasper, what happened to your back?"

  Jeremey blinked and twisted around to meet Ike's wide-eyed stare. His back? What…? Oh. "Ran into a hungry rachya," he explained. "It caught my vest before Promise knocked me loose."