Phoenix Rising (Dragon Legacy) Read Online Free Page A

him.
    “My...my what? What is that?”
    “Wadi ajali. It's something my tribe does. At least we used to. I don't know anymore,” he said, and his eyes clouded over. “I really can't do this right now. Can we just keep looking around, and not talk about the Turami?” he asked sharply.
    “Sorry,” Stella said, slightly mortified. She hadn't meant to hurt him, but he'd probably been through something just as difficult as she had. He was a refugee, too, wasn't he? Why hadn't she thought of that earlier? Well, she wouldn't forget again. Stella put her hand on his arm, and he looked at her, tears in his eyes. She hugged him, and he clutched her, sobbing. He was just a boy, after all, and neither of them knew what they were doing here.
    They stayed like that for a while. Stella wasn't sure how long, but it was apparent how much Mtumba had needed to be shown some compassion. Stella patted his back gently, and then drew back slightly. “You okay to keep going?” she asked with renewed sympathy. Mtumba nodded with a sniffle, and then realized he couldn't wipe his nose through his helmet.
    “I need to blow my nose,” he said nervously. “Do you think it's safe to take off our helmets?”
    “I don't know,” Stella admitted. It could kill them. Chances were high, and somehow it felt like her fault that they were in this situation. Then she made a decision. She reached up to unfasten her own helmet, but Mtumba gasped and quickly reached over to stop her.
    “No,” he said, shaking his head. “You don't have to do that.”
    “But I want to.”
    “I'm sorry, but no,” he said somberly. “My honor won't permit it.” She conceded that men put much stock in such things, even when it seemed stupid. Especially then, perhaps. It was hard to take him seriously though, when he was clearly in such dire need of a tissue.
    “Fine,” Stella conceded, “but I...I'm sorry.”
    Mtumba just looked at her as she let her hand fall from her helmet, and then nodded. He unfastened his own helmet with a hiss and a grunt, and then removed it, his breath escaping into the air as a small tuft of steam. He shivered, shaking his head, and blinked once.
    “It's cold, but not as bad as I thought it'd be,” Mtumba said. Stella let out a sigh of relief and he looked over at her. “It seems safe, at least,” he smiled at her, sheepishly wiping his nose with his sleeve. He sighed with relief. Without meaning to, Stella grimaced a bit. “Oh, sorry,” he said, embarrassed, then began walking further into the cavern.
    She followed him, removing her helmet as she walked. Taking it off was slightly uncomfortable because of the change in air-pressure, but once it was done Stella felt relieved. The air was clean, and it was good to breathe it in, even if it was a bit cold. She noticed that the humming was slightly louder, now, but she wasn't worried about it anymore. Honestly, what was the worst that could happen?
     
    The low-lying ice storm buffeted the old man's robe, but he was unfazed by the chill. Moving with a powerful agile grace, he held his staff in a relaxed grip; at the ready should any giant native ice-wyrms foolishly mistake him for easy prey. The sun had set, and the deep cold had set in, his gentle garden now far behind him, safe within its eternal springtime. Set in that most magical of seasons that his wife had loved so much. How things changed.
     
    Stella and Mtumba had been searching the cave network for over an hour, looking for anything that could be useful. Then suddenly there came a distant rumble and they were hit with a whoosh of air. They looked at each other in silence, not sure what it was or what to do about it.
    The vibration grew louder, and Stella grabbed Mtumba's hand. It surprised her, but she supposed it was a normal reaction to something unexplainable. She quickly released her grip, however, and mouthed the words, “What was that?”
    Mtumba mouthed back, “I don't know.”
    The cave returned to the eerie