The Flames of Dragons by Josh VanBrakle Page B

her head in response. “Hana!”
    His shout had the opposite effect. Balear already stood out thanks to his missing arm and the seven-foot-long sword on his back. Half the people in earshot turned to regard him.
    It didn’t stop him. He charged through the crowd, parting it like a ship through water. “Hana!” he cried as he ran. “It’s Balear! Hana, wait!”
    A whistle sounded from the bay. Balear cursed. It was a ship’s call, signaling to other vessels that it was leaving port. Balear reached the docks just in time to see two longboats rowing hard toward a caravel two hundred feet out.
    “Hana!” he cried one last time, though he knew it was futile. The people on the longboats couldn’t hear him over the water, and they were too far away for Balear to identify anyone.
    All the same, he waited at the dock until the longboats reached the ship. Then, as it turned toward open ocean, Balear trudged his way back to the square.
    Elyssa was waiting for him where he’d left her. Her foot clicked against the stone as she tapped it repeatedly.
    “What on Raa were you thinking?” she demanded.
    The one-armed general looked over his shoulder toward the ocean. The ship was a dot from this distance. “Nothing,” he finally said. “A ghost from the past. I was imagining things. Let’s get back to work. What were we discussing again?”
     
    *   *   *
     
    Hana Akiyama stood at the Sparkling Dawn ’s stern as the caravel left the Bay of Kataile. Her hands gripped the rail so hard she left divots in the wood.
    Balear had been right there, shouting her name. It had taken every shred of willpower she possessed not to turn around.
    She couldn’t let herself see him. When she returned to Shogun Melwar’s side, he would ask her if she had seen the Sky Dragon Knight in her journey. This way she could tell him the truth. No, she hadn’t.

CHAPTER TWELVE
The Things Trees Know
     
     
    Minawë and Lyubo had tracked their quarry since dawn. They had yet to lay eyes on it, but Lyubo insisted they were getting close.
    “These tracks couldn’t have been made more than an hour ago,” he said, gesturing at the spots in the mud. “They’re close together too, which means he’s moving slowly. We’ll catch him before we have to get back to the group.”
    Minawë hoped so. Everyone was counting on them.
    She wiped her brow. Midafternoon in the rainforest was a poor time to be active. The humidity clung to her skin, and her leather outfit gripped her in all sorts of uncomfortable ways.
    “Hold up,” Lyubo said. “Let’s take a break.”
    “And let him get farther ahead?”
    “He isn’t on the run. Besides, determination’s no good if it gets you killed. You’ll dehydrate tracking all day. You need to drink up.”
    Minawë lifted her water skin, but Lyubo put out a hand. “That’s for emergencies,” he said. “Here in the wild, you rely on the forest as much as you can. Check these out.”
    He walked to a nearby tangle of vines each as thick as Minawë’s forearm. “These will be our water supply,” he said.
    Minawë cocked an eyebrow.
    “Watch.” Lyubo pulled out his machete and hacked off a three-foot section of vine. He raised one end, and a few drops came out the bottom. He let them fall on his hand.
    “They’re clear,” he said, “and they don’t burn. This one’s good to drink.” Lyubo tilted back his head and raised the vine above it. Minawë thought he’d only get a little, but water gushed from the vine like it was a giant cup.
    Lyubo wiped his mouth. “Now you try,” he said. He handed her his machete.
    Minawë cut off a chunk and raised it above her head. Before she could tilt it though, Lyubo grabbed the vine. “Test it first,” he said.
    She shrugged and lowered the plant. She did as he had and let a small amount pour onto her hand. It was milky white and stung her skin.
    “Some of the vines are poisonous,” Lyubo said. “There’s no way to know which ones unless you test them. If