For Promise Yet Unbroken Page 4

  All of a sudden it was very quiet, and the people nearby were staring in disbelief.

  "You took on a rachya alone?" Ike demanded. "Where's Zack?"

  "Zack…" ditched me, he wanted to say, but he was all too aware of the eyes on them. "We split up," he finished, wincing at how stupid that sounded. "It was okay. I had Promise and… and some wild dragons showed up to help."

  If he'd thought it quiet before, it was positively silent now. Ike's eyes widened, then narrowed. "Wild dragons," he said flatly.

  "I think Promise called them," Jeremey elaborated, brow furrowed. "He made this strange sound and then they—"

  "You ran into a rachya this late in spring and wild dragons showed up to save your ass." Ike snorted, eyes narrowed. "You've got a big mouth, kid. Anyone could come up with a better story than that. What'd you really do, fall down a ravine?"

  "Fall down a…" Jeremey sputtered. "It's the truth! We were up in the north hills and I saw a new plant, and when I got down to look at it, that's when the rachya appeared. I'm not lying!"

  "Oh yeah?" Ike challenged. "So where's this new plant, then?"

  "It's—" Jeremey shut his mouth as realization set in. "Oh. I left it back in the hills…"

  Ike snorted. "Yeah, right. Tell me another one, Jasper."

  "It's true!" Jeremey snapped, feeling Promise rumble in—he hoped—agreement. "That's what happened!"

  "Think you're better than us, Jasper? Gotta make up wild stories to convince everyone else? Well, I'm not buying it. I told Jack we never shoulda let—"

  "That's enough."

  Everyone froze, then turned en masse to where Jack Sullivan stood, his eyes narrowly visible beneath the brim of his hat. He glanced slowly over the crowd, who suddenly remembered they had other things to do. Jack's gaze shifted to Ike, lingering there for a moment until Ike began to squirm, then he walked calmly over to Promise's flank and stopped.

  "Well?"

  Jeremey scrambled down out of his saddle, trying to but not quite able to meet Jack's eyes. Jack regarded him for a long moment, then stepped around him to examine Jeremey's back.

  Jeremey held his breath.

  There was a slight crunch of boots on dirt and then Jack's voice came from somewhere lower than usual. Jeremey realized with a start that he was probably kneeling. "Rachya… awful late in the season. Must be a young one, not experienced enough to bulk up for the summer hibernation." The rustle of boots and earth, then Jack was coming around to face him again. "You're damn lucky you're not dead."

  "Yes, sir," Jeremey said, swallowing.

  "I don't wanna hear about you riding solo again, you hear me?"

  "But Zack—" Jeremey bit down on the protest as Jack's eyes narrowed dangerously. Sheriff Sullivan might have backed him up on the matter of the rachya, but he couldn't push his luck. "Yes, sir," he forced out.

  Jack Sullivan eyed him a moment longer, then jerked his head toward the stables. "Get on with you," he ordered. "And take care of your dragon," he added as Jeremey swung himself back up into the saddle. "I think you know you owe him your life."

  Jeremey nodded and started Promise toward the stables, thinking that Sheriff Sullivan was right. He did owe Promise his life, in more ways than one. Without Promise, he hadn't really had a life. Until Promise gave it back to him.

  FIVE

  It was all well and good to tell Jeremey not to ride solo, but it would have been nice if Jack had bothered to tell the others that. Two weeks of sentry duty because no one would ride with him, and when someone finally did, it figured he'd get ditched at the first available opportunity. Personally Jeremey had the suspicion that Montford had used him as a screen to meet up with a lover, given how fast he'd taken off—and in what direction. The Tombstone settlement wasn't all that far away, especially by dragon.

  "Well, looks like it's just you and me again," Jeremey commented, petting Promise's neck. "I figure we oughtta stay pretty close to home so we don't find any trouble for Sullivan to yell at me about."

  Promise snorted and looked about, picking a direction apparently at random and ambling off. Jeremey let him have his head, not really concerned with their destination. As long as they didn't run into another rachya—or worse, a caraca—he didn't care where they patrolled. And if they did run into trouble, at least he had the sense not to tell anyone this time.

  They weren't going to run into any trouble, though. They were going to stay close, in cleared land, and not go looking for any—

  Jeremey yelped as the sky cracked overhead, and he and Promise both craned their necks upward to see two dark spots streaking across the sky, flashes of light passing through the space between them. As he watched, there was a brighter flash on one of the spots and then the other lit up as well. They began to veer apart slightly, both disappearing behind a bluff, and then a moment later Jeremey could hear a low boom. A short time later, he heard a second boom, and then nothing.

  What was that? He reached down blindly to stroke Promise's neck and repeated himself aloud. "What was that?"

  Promise peered at the bluff, then craned his neck around to look at Jeremey. There was a curious sound, something like a low-pitched trill, and after a moment Jeremey realized that it had come from Promise.

  He considered. "We shouldn't… we're not supposed to ride alone… but…" They both turned to look back at where the spots had vanished, and Promise took a querying step forward.

  If he went, the odds were pretty good that they'd find trouble again. But he hadn't chosen to be a rider so he could be safe. He'd done it to have the opportunity to keep others safe. From the dangers they knew, and those they didn't.

  Jeremey set his jaw. "Let's go."

  There was no denying that Promise had been waiting for the command. He launched himself forward with enough power to make Jeremey grab the saddle to stay astride. Then they were off, moving almost at a dragon's top ground speed, the earth nearly flying by beneath them. Promise took advantage of the first available clump of rocks he could find, clambering up them without breaking stride and snapping his wings open.

  The first downbeat was always a shock, one Jeremey had learned to brace himself for so that he didn't get thrown forward over Promise's neck. The second was easier because they were hovering rather than falling, and then the third provided the lift they needed to get properly airborne.

  All dragons preferred to glide, but would fly with some encouragement. Some were nearly impossible to coax, while others—like Promise—would fly on their own accord. Jeremey hadn't yet decided what the deciding factor was. Size, perhaps. Promise was amongst the more slender dragons. But then Charlie hadn't seemed to have any trouble with Zorevan, and Zorevan was the biggest dragon Jeremey had ever encountered.

  He shoved his thoughts out of mind as they cleared the bluff and one of the dark things became visible. The other wasn't in sight, but there were some low hills not far off that could easily have hidden it from sight. As Promise circled down toward the black thing, Jeremey could make out separate pieces of black—either it had come in multiple pieces, or it had broken when it hit the ground. Given the size of the trench it had made, he was inclined to believe it was the latter.

  The closer they got, the more obvious it became that whatever it was it was not natural. The planes were too smooth, the angles too even, and there were a number of markings that looked far too deliberate to be anything but. It was also very definitely broken, showing warped, jagged edges where the pieces had separated. Jeremey had a moment to think it was big, enough to fit a whole flock of dragons, then Promise was backwinging to land and all his concentration went into not falling off.

  With a bone-jarring thump, they were down, and neither of them moved for a moment as they stared up at the wreck. Now what?

  Cautiously, Jeremey nudged Promise around to one of the broken areas. Here, the smooth, impenetrable wall had been ripped apart, revealing a gaping hole. With a little coaxing, he got Promise to stick his head in the middle of it, and Jeremey cou
ld shimmy out along Promise's neck until he was clear of the sharp edges and could drop down to the not-quite-level floor. His footsteps seemed echoingly loud even amidst the groaning and creaking of the damaged craft, and he found himself wishing for a moment that Promise was smaller and could come with him.

  Oh well, he'd cope. "Stay here," he ordered, giving Promise's nose a parting pat before unholstering his blaster and setting off into the darkness.

  A few meters in, he realized that it wasn't really dark, just dim, and his eyes were beginning to adjust from the brightness of Noman's suns to the faint light of… whatever was glowing. He wasn't sure, and the warping of his shadow seemed to indicate it was coming from all directions. There were a few cross passageways, and on a whim, Jeremey turned down one of them. At the next crossroad he turned again—and stopped.

  There was a man lying on the floor, a long gash torn into his leg through his pants, blood soaking the fabric and the floor beneath. Jeremey let out a startled oath and scrambled forward, first checking the man's pulse—faint, but there—then casting a critical eye over the wound. There was a lot of blood, but maybe…

  Tearing away what was left of the man's trousers, Jeremey fashioned a crude tourniquet, relieved when the bleeding slowed. Though it didn't stop. Left alone, the man would bleed to death, which meant Jeremey had to get him back to Fair Valley as soon as possible. Looked like he was done exploring, for now.

  The problem was how to get the injured man out to where Promise waited. He was fairly thin, but so was Jeremey. There was no way he'd be able to carry him, but he might be able to pull him.

  Only one way to find out. Hooking his hands under the man's arms, Jeremey braced himself and pulled. The relative smoothness of the floor compared with the rough earth outside made it possible, though not at all easy. Jeremey had only managed to get the man moved a meter or two when he stirred, groaning faintly. Jeremey stilled as the man's eyes fluttered open, staring straight ahead for a moment before finally looking around enough to spy Jeremey.

  "… Wh…?" He licked his lips. "Who?" the man croaked.

  "My name is Jeremey Jasper," Jeremey supplied. "I'm going to get you to someone who can help." He hesitated. "You hurt your leg pretty bad…"

  The man shifted, biting his lip and looking down at the injury. His face looked awfully pale, and Jeremey hoped they made it back to Fair Valley fast enough. He resumed pulling, ignoring the quiet sounds of pain until the man started fighting him.

  "What?" Jeremey asked, frustrated. "I have to get you out of here."

  Teeth gritted against the pain, the man managed to point at the wall. "Hatch."

  Jeremey blinked. "What?"

  The man grimaced and repeated himself, a little louder. "Hatch." His brow furrowed, then he added. "Door."

  Door? Now that he really looked at it, there was a section of wall vaguely door-shaped. Sort of like the one to the archives room in the town hall. The one that had been salvaged from the colony ship that had first brought humans to Noman. Did that then mean this was a space ship? He couldn't think of any other explanation.

  Finally, more than eighty years after Noman had called for help and gotten nothing, someone had come. After the sickness, after the deaths. After Noman's settlers had learned to fight back and survive.

  He wanted to be bitter, angry, but his first priority had to be to the wounded man. He could allow his personal feelings to influence him later, once he wasn't the only thing standing between a living being and death. For now, he had to get them out of there, and perhaps the man's door would solve his problem of how to get past the jagged edges of the hole he'd come in through.

  It was slightly different from the door to the archives, but not so different that he couldn't figure out how to work it. Twist here, lift there, and shove as hard as you could until it moved. If the ship were operational and powered, it would have been far easier, but it wasn't. Not that it really mattered. The door to the archives hadn't been powered since Jeremey's grandfather's time. There were more important things to use their precious energy on, like the wall that kept Noman's deadly predators out of the settlements.

  At first it seemed like it wasn't going to move, but eventually the door gave a creaking groan and swung open. Jeremey shaded his eyes against the harsh light of Noman's suns, tipping his hat down lower over his eyes until they readjusted. The ship's rough landing meant that it wasn't quite level, and that put the door a good two meters in the air. Problematic, if he was alone. Fortunately, Jeremey wasn't.

  Whistling sharply, Jeremey called Promise's name, smiling to see the dragon come into view a moment later. He laughed as Promise stuck his head through the door to lick him, protesting and cheerfully shoving Promise back when he could get his arms up.

  "Behave," Jeremey instructed. "We have a passenger."

  Promise turned his head to inspect the injured man, who appeared to have passed out, sniffing curiously. After a moment he snorted and drew back, maneuvering himself so that his saddle was positioned just next to the door. Jeremey hauled the unconscious man over, pondering briefly how he was going to accomplish his task before deciding to just stick with straightforward. He hopped over to stand in Promise's saddle, then reached down and pulled.

  The man let out a cry of pain as Jeremey yelped and toppled over backwards. He landed on his shoulder, breath driven out of him, and he simply laid there a moment until he was no longer seeing stars.

  When he opened his eyes, it was to the sight of Promise's nose, and he gently shoved, wincing at the pain. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said, sitting up gingerly. Next time, he'd try a method that didn't involve him falling off Promise. But at least it seemed to have worked, and he scrambled up to check on his passenger, the ache in his shoulder settling down to a dull throb.

  Wide blue eyes stared at him from beneath a mussed array of blond hair as he vaulted neatly into his proper spot. The man licked his lips, eyes flicking briefly toward Promise's head before meeting Jeremey's again.

  "What… what is that?" he asked.

  "Huh?" Jeremey asked. "You mean Promise? He's my dragon."

  Those blue eyes widened further. "Dragon?" he repeated.

  Jeremey shrugged. "That's what we call them, anyway. They're native to Noman, which is where you are." Should he say more than that? He wasn't sure. It wasn't like Noman had ever had visitors before, not since the colonists had first landed over eighty years ago. "I'm Jeremey," he added, figuring he couldn't really go wrong with introductions. "Jeremey Jasper."

  The blue-eyed man coughed. "Lieutenant Harry Alonzo Longbaugh," he supplied with a wince.

  "Okay, Harry," Jeremey said, settling in and wrapping his arms around Harry's waist to get a firm grip on the saddle. "Sit tight and I'll get you back to town where we can get you patched up."

  He could feel Harry tense as Promise responded to the slight pressure of Jeremey's knees, then they were moving forward swiftly, though not anywhere close to a dragon's top speed. Promise was probably keeping his pace gentle out of courtesy for their injured passenger. Still, the crude bandage wouldn't last forever, so Jeremey gave the command to fly.

  There were plenty of rock formations for Promise to climb, and in no time at all they were aloft, winging swiftly toward the settlement, the ground racing by beneath them. Harry didn't make a sound the entire trip, though his face had gone rather white, and it had to have hurt when Promise backwinged to land.

  Further thoughts were set aside, however, as startled townsfolk realized that Promise was carrying double and approached with a multitude of questions. Jeremey fended them off as best he could, all the while looking for one of the faces that would know what to do. Either the doctor, the mayor, or…

  "Settle down!" a voice roared, and Jeremey was flooded with dual relief and consternation. He'd hoped to put off dealing with Jack until later, once Harry was safely to the doctor and it wasn't quite so obvious that Jeremey had come in alone. Still, duty was duty, even if it meant he was going to get in trouble ag
ain.

  "Ship went down, Sheriff," Jeremey explained into the lull that Jack's presence had created. "Maybe two. About fifteen minutes flight south-southwest. Found this guy, hurt. Needs the doc."

  Jack frowned and looked around, frown deepening when he didn't immediately find what he wanted. "Someone fetch Doc Holliday. You and you, help me get him down," he barked, moving to Promise's side and reaching up to support Harry as Jeremey slid him down with only some slight compensation for his throbbing shoulder. The two men Jack had pointed out formed a chair with their arms to carry Harry, heading for the clinic as soon as he was clear of Promise.

  "Jack," Jeremey said as Harry vanished into the crowd. "It wasn't a small ship; there might be more people."

  Jack's gaze snapped back to him momentarily before he spun on one heel and took off for the stables, people scattering out of his way. Jeremey hesitated a moment, then nudged Promise to follow him. As soon as they were within earshot, Jack started bellowing, and every rider not out on patrol or watch—that was, all of them but Montford and the two watch dragons at the fence—spilled out in varying states of undress. Jack started snapping out orders as soon as they appeared, sending the first arrivals scrambling for their dragons even as more joined them and were filled in on their way.

  The mad dash for the main stable doors was halted as Jack's Putere came barreling out, apparently having heard his rider's voice. He barely even paused in his forward motion as Jack grabbed hold of his saddle and swung himself up, and in the next moment they drew up next to Jeremey.

  "When they sort out their heads from their asses," Jack snapped, "lead them to your ship. Putere!"

  Jack's dragon leapt hard into the air, the beat of his wings kicking up dust as they pumped furiously. He grabbed onto the corner of the nearest building, flinging himself up high enough to catch the wind and taking off south as fast as he could fly. Jeremey stared, impressed, until realizing that a good half of the riders were saddled up, waiting for him.