Snow Fields - Book Two of The Fields of Mendhavai Trilogy

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Gaping, I surveyed our new surroundings. Near the wall furthest from where we stood - approximately the distance between the stable back home and the far side of the barracks building - a huge spike of rock hung from the ceiling and dribbled water into a sizable pool below. The water glowed with an orange-ish light that seemed to originate beneath the surface from which steam rose lazily. Each droplet of water that hit it sent out a ring of ripples.

I tore my attention away from the pool and thoughts of a long, heavenly soak, and scanned the rest of the cavern. There were two other tunnels branching from it on either side of the pool. Neither of them had the slash marks, so they must lead deeper into the mountain.

A gasp from beside me had me whip my head around and I found Taphille gazing upward with wonder written across his face. I followed his eyes to the ceiling where globes of light the size of my fist floated idly, casting strange shadows as they moved slowly among the stalactites.

“Some of us,” rumbled a deep yet tender voice, making me jump, “have been around long enough to master some of our own magical gifts.”

Bashiir chuckled as we all spun towards the voice, emanating from the tunnel to the right side of the pool. A deep green dragon stepped into the large cavern and bowed its decidedly feminine head at us.

“I am Feesta.” Her eyes speared me and she nodded to me. “We have met, such as it were, once before, Lady.”

My eyes widened and I gulped as the green dragon’s bulk, nearly twice the size of Bashiir, towered over me. From the corner of my eye, I saw Smythe’s hand drop to his sword hilt, but he did not draw the blade.

Feesta’s olive colored eyes fixed on him. “It would be wise to keep your weapons sheathed here. My kind does not tolerate objects of violence.”

I looked over at the guard and gave him a half nod. He flexed his fingers a few times before moving his hand away from its ready position. Feesta continued to stare at him.

I cleared my throat uneasily. “You speak out loud,” I ventured, trying to break the tension.

Feesta’s gaze returned to me and her lips pulled away from her teeth in what I assumed was a smile. “I have mastered the magic required to project my thoughts into the form of a sound, yes,” she confirmed, but I noted that her mouth did not move as she spoke. “It is much more convenient when speaking to a group; I find it tiresome to repeat myself.”

She exchanged a glance with Bashiir and some unspoken words must have passed between them, for when her eyes returned to me, they seemed to be filled with pity.

“You have had a long and terrible journey here. Although the others are very eager to meet you, I think we shall allow you to rest first. You may use this central chamber as your own; you will not be disturbed. The pool is safe for both bathing and drinking, as the water circulates through it. I think you will find it to be quite a pleasant soak.” Her eyes were on me again, and it seemed by her last words as if she might have heard my thoughts from when we first entered the cave. Warmth spread through me, with just the thought of dipping into the pool.

Bashiir lifted his head, cocking it to one side as if listening, but remained silent. Feesta, instead, spoke for both of them.

“Your four-legged hunters are returning with a fresh kill.” A feral grin split her face. “Bashiir will bring you something to cook it over. Please take your time feeding and cleaning yourselves. Bashiir and I will return later this evening. We are very glad you are here, and we have much to discuss with you.”