Dela
ANOTHER HOUR OR SO passed before the door opened again.
This time, she knew, it was so she could be taken to her death. The one thing that got her feet moving was the possibility she’d see Warsgra, Orergon, and Vehel again. She desperately needed to know that they were all right, even though their lives would not continue for much longer.
The guards hauled her from her cell and dragged her back through the passageways of Castle Tearos. She clutched the dragon egg close, wondering what would happen to it once they’d been hung. Would Vehel’s magic stop working when he was dead?
Eventually, they stepped outside, and Dela found herself blinking at the bright light. It was still daytime. It was crazy to think of how she’d spoken to her parents only that morning, and that she’d flown in on the back of a dragon. All that felt as though it had happened a lifetime ago.
They made their way forward, through the gates that led onto the market square and the platform where The Choosing was called from every six months. Her stomach twisted. There was something new on the platform—a row of gallows with four nooses.
The market square was crammed full of people. Word had got out that there was to be a hanging, and this one would be special. Everyone wanted to see the men from the other races hang.
She spotted the thick, black beard of the head of the City Guard, Philput Glod. He stood beside the gallows, with his chin lifted, surveying the crowds. At the back of the platform she saw two other familiar figures, and her heart lifted. Warsgra and Orergon! But where was Vehel?
Orergon must have sensed her approach as he glanced over at her. His lips were pressed together, his dark eyes filled with remorse. She wanted to tell him she was sorry, that she was the one who’d got him into this mess, and she wished she’d just sent them all home to be with their own people, not to be killed in front of a crowd of strangers baying for their blood. Warsgra also glanced over to her, and she saw the abject fury on his face. If he were to get free, he’d kill every man standing here now. But both their hands and feet were bound, and numerous guards stood with their swords pointed toward the two men, as though they’d strike them down should they so much as lean in the wrong direction.
The guards pushed her up the wooden stairs, onto the platform. The crowds of people stretched out before her like an ocean. She searched their faces, trying to spot someone familiar. Would her parents be here? Had they heard?
From behind came movement, and gasps and murmurs rose from the crowd. She looked to see Vehel being carried out onto the platform.
Vehel was barely conscious, and two men carried him to where Orergon and Warsgra were standing before throwing him to the ground. Were they really going to hang him when it didn’t even look as though he had any idea what was going on? If they wanted him dead, they could have just killed him in the cell, but they didn’t. Instead, they’d hauled him out here in front of everyone, purely so they could make an example of him. That was all they wanted—to show the human population of Anthoinia what would happen if you tried to go against the laws of the city.
A fresh burble of noise rose from the crowds. It wasn’t the raucous jeers and calls she’d heard during previous hangings, but more an uncertain murmuring. But Dela knew the noise wasn’t because they were about to be killed. No, it was their horrified fascination seeing Warsgra, Vehel, and Orergon for the first time.
She tore her attention from the men and scanned the crowd once more. Her heart tightened as she locked eyes with her mother, and then her father standing beside her. Her mother’s eyes were pleading, and she shook her head. Johanna covered her mouth with her hand, and she pressed her forehead to Godfrey’s shoulder as though she couldn’t bear to look at Dela any longer. Dela sought out her father’s face instead and he mouthed, we love you, to her.
I’m sorry, she mouthed back, hoping he understood her. Her eyes filled with tears.
Rough hands pushed her forward, toward the nooses hanging from the gallows, and a roar erupted from the crowd. She thought it had to do with her at first, but then she realized a new person had arrived on the platform. It was King Roland Crowmere, and just behind him stood his wife, the queen.
The egg. If only the egg would hatch, it at least might buy them some time. But despite the heat and movement she’d sensed, the egg remained just an egg.
Dela fought against the tears pricking the backs of her eyes and threatening to close off her throat. She didn’t want to cry in front of all these people. She didn’t want their last thoughts and memories of her to be of weakness. But, despite her best efforts, a tear escaped the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. She wasn’t crying for herself. She was crying for the lives of Warsgra and Orergon and Vehel, and the anguish of her mother and father, and for all the thousands of deaths that were going to happen in Xantearos.
Philput Glod stepped forward, and the crowd fell quiet. “Dela Stonebridge,” he called out, “Vehel Dawngleam of the Elvish, Warsgra Tuskeye of the Norcs, and Orergon Ortiz of the Moerians. You are sentenced to death for theft and rebellion against the kingdom.”
A fresh roar erupted from the crowd as they were each pushed forward, closer to the gallows. Warsgra barged his shoulders against the guards pushing him, but he had a sword at his back, and both his hands and feet were tied. Orergon shuffled forward, his head held high, appearing as noble as possible in the situation.
No longer caring what people thought of her—she had nothing left to lose—she shouted into the crowd. “Don’t just stand there! You’re being used. You’re being repressed. Our lives don’t need to be like this. The war doesn’t need to happen.”
But instead of rising up, she saw shame in the hundreds of pairs of eyes looking up at her, shame and embarrassment on her behalf. This was it. No one was going to help them. They were going to hang in front of all these people, and there was nothing she could do about it.
In the far distance, beyond the city walls, echoed a mournful, ancient screech.
Dela’s heart lurched. Could it be? Dared she hope?
Moving as one, the entire crowd turned toward the sound.
It appeared as a black speck at first, a dot against the blue of the sky, but then it grew larger, taking shape. A long, curved neck. Massive wings outspread. A spiked tail extended behind.
The screech came again, louder this time.
A ripple of fear ran through the crowd. What had at first been uncertainty and confusion, and perhaps even a little awe and wonder, quickly morphed to panic. As the dragon flew ever closer, people began to realize the creature was heading directly toward them. Murmurs rose to shouts, and the crowd started to move. Shoulders jostled, and hands shoved as people tried to get away.
Dela couldn’t help the triumph that rose inside her. In her arms, the dragon egg moved again, that same feeling of something pressing against the inside of the shell. Heat spread through her, and she lifted her face to the sky, a smile pulling on the corners of her mouth.
He was here.
Multifaceted scales glinted green, blue, and purple in the sunlight. Dela caught a glint in its eyes, which appeared red this time with anger, and an intelligence far exceeding most of the people here.
“Get back!” shouted the head guard, Philput Glod. “Protect the king and queen!”
A couple of the guards backed away to try to protect King and Queen Crowmere with their swords, but others stood wide-eyed and staring up into the sky in fear.
Laughter bubbled up inside Dela’s chest. Just how did they think they were going to fight a dragon with swords? It would be like throwing pins against stone. Some of the men seemed to realize this, and they dropped their weapons with a clatter and fled.
The dragon swept down and opened its mouth wide. Smoke poured out from its nostrils.
“Dela, move back!” Warsgra suddenly shouted.
She’d been the one closest to the gallows, and at the last moment she realized what was about to happen. She staggered backward, thankful her feet weren’t tied, a
s flames erupted from the dragon’s mouth, and all four of the gallows and their hanging nooses disintegrated in flames. Dela reared back, the heat blasting against her skin, and she smelled hair burning and was sure she might have just lost some of her eyebrows.
The market square had cleared of people. The dragon set himself down, claws digging into the dirt, the final beating of his wings sending dust flying.
Orergon and Warsgra were both tied at their hands and feet, and Vehel was either only semi conscious or they’d given him something—the Yiridian root, perhaps—to render him incoherent. Dela spotted one of the swords one of the guards had dropped. Releasing the egg with one hand, but keeping it nestled close to her body with her other arm, she stooped and picked up the sword. It was heavy, but her previous job at the blacksmiths meant she was used to handling the weight. She went to Orergon first, who was the closest. Working quickly and carefully, she brought the sharp edge of the sword down onto the rope tying his legs together. Then he held out his hands to her, and, not daring to swing in case her aim was off and she took off his hand, she sawed away at the rope holding his wrists together. The blade was lethally sharp, and the rope quickly threaded, allowing Orergon to pull apart his hands.
“Give me the sword,” he told her. “I’ll free Warsgra, you go to the dragon.”
“No. You need to help Vehel. He can’t walk.”
Orergon looked to their friend and nodded.
She wouldn’t have spoken her thoughts out loud, but she had other reasons for not going to the dragon alone. A part of her was concerned if she did—just her and the egg—he would take off and leave the others behind. At least if they were all together, she hoped there was a chance the dragon would take them all.
Orergon ran to Vehel and scooped him up. Dela went to Warsgra, who grinned down at her as she cut the rope between his ankles. “That’s one way to show the king who’s boss, huh?”
She grinned back up at him.
But it wasn’t over yet.
“They’re leaving! Stop them!” King Crowmere roared.
The few guards who had remained charged toward them, but the dragon had seen them coming. He swung his head in the guards’ direction and released a fresh spurt of fire. The flames hit the guards, and their screams made Dela’s skin crawl. The stink of burning flesh filled the air, and she squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to think about it. These men had been quite happy watching her and her friends put to death, but that didn’t mean she wanted any of them to die. They most likely weren’t bad people. They were just following orders and hadn’t yet had their eyes opened to the truth.
Dela threw down the sword to free up a hand.
With Warsgra free, they both ran to Orergon to help him with Vehel. The prince’s eyes rolled, and Warsgra took his other side, his shoulder wedged into Vehel’s armpit, so Vehel was held between the two males.
Warsgra slowed as they reached the dragon. “By the Gods, he’s huge.”
He was; his body was the size of a small house, a wall of green, purple, and blue scales. Heat radiated off him.
Dela didn’t think for a moment that the dragon would harm her, but she couldn’t be certain about the others. Even under her protection, they still weren’t Dragonsayers.
The dragon swung his head around, and her stomach flipped, but instead of doing anything threatening, his nose caught under Vehel, and he lifted the Elvish prince up and onto his back, nestling him into the same spot where Dela had ridden, right where his wing met his body.
Dela exchanged a relieved smile with Warsgra and Orergon, and together they climbed up onto the dragon’s back, the two men helping Dela as she still cradled the dragon egg against her torso.
As the dragon’s wings began to beat, lifting them off the ground, people emerged from their hiding places, fearful and wide eyed. The men the dragon had hit with its fire had fallen to the ground and gone quiet. No one else wanted that to be their fate.
They lifted higher and higher, clinging to each other as they rose into the sky.
And left Anthoinia far behind.
Chapter Thirty-one
Dela
SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHERE the dragon was taking them, and she didn’t care. They were flying away from the city, and they were safe. That was all that mattered.
As she rested against the dragon’s warm body, she held the egg close. Again she sensed movement from within the shell, a gentle tap of a fast heartbeat, and a pressure in one area as the creature inside stretched a wing or leg.
Warsgra sat with Vehel, still semi-conscious, on the other side of the dragon’s body, while she sat with Orergon behind her, sandwiched between his legs, his arms wrapped around her waist. They leaned into the dragon, making sure they balanced out their weight, but also so there was less chance of sliding off.
The dragon flew, putting distance between them and danger. She lost track of time, dozing with the back of her head resting against Orergon’s chest. Before she knew it, the light was fading from the sky once more, and the dragon was beginning to descend.
The dragon alighted on a hillside. In the dwindling light, there was no sign of anyone else around, no other buildings, or smoke rising into the sky. They were alone once more.
One by one, they climbed down.
Dela’s first concern was with Vehel. “How’s he doing?”
“Better,” Warsgra said.
Vehel managed to lift his head and nod. Whatever they’d given him, it was starting to wear off now.
“Good.” She smiled. “Because at the risk of sounding completely selfish, I could really do with putting this egg down soon.”
She’d thought the dragon was going to fly away again, but instead he curled his huge body around them, as though protecting them still.
“I’m okay,” Vehel managed, though his eyes were still unfocused. “They must have given me something to stop me doing magic.”
“I think it was Yiridian root. Too much can kill you.”
He gave a weak smile. “I guess I got lucky, then.”
“Do you think you can undo the spell yet? I’m worried this thing is going to hatch, and the first thing it’s going to see is me.”
“So, you’d have a dragon baby,” Warsgra said with a grin. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “When it comes to feeding it, I’m going to say yes.”
“You think it is going to hatch?” asked Orergon.
“It might be my imagination, but I’m sure I can feel something moving around inside the shell. I’d like to be able to hand it over to its father over here, though—assuming he is its father.”
“It’s the closest to a father we have right now, so he’s going to have to do.”
“Good, cause I know nothing about raising dragon babies.”
Vehel gave a rueful smile. “There might be a chance you’re going to have to learn, but the magic should have faded enough now to allow you to release it.”
With caution, she reached out and placed the egg on the ground in front of them. To her relief, she was able to loosen her fingers from the shell and finally release it. Immediately, the dragon swung his massive head around and nuzzled the egg with his nose. Tiny, gentle tendrils of warm smoke puffed from his nostrils to caress it.
Dela smiled. She might not have a clue how to look after a dragon egg, but it seemed the dragon did.
They settled down together against the bulk of the dragon’s huge body. They were protected here, with no fears that anyone would try anything while they were nestled within its proximity. She sat with Vehel’s head resting in her lap, and Warsgra on one side and Orergon on the other.
They had peace for the moment, but she knew it wouldn’t last.
This was only the start.
The dragon had saved her twice, but that didn’t mean he was prepared to fight for her, or for Xantearos. She still didn’t know if she was able to use the Dragonstone to communicate with him, or if he would just push her away again if she
tried. With each day that passed, the human army was getting closer to the Norcs and the Southern Trough, and the fighting would begin. How would she know if she had it in her to control the dragon without trying?
Heart pounding, she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out the piece of Dragonstone. With it came the picture her mother had given her, the piece of paper fluttering to the ground near Warsgra’s feet.
The Norc leaned over and picked it up. He unfolded it and looked down at the drawing. She watched his expression morph from one of interest, to understanding, to dismay.
Dela’s heart tightened, and her stomach flipped with sudden nerves. “What?” she asked him. “What is it?”
Warsgra turned his face to hers. “Is this who I think it is?” he asked, pointing to the picture of Ridley.
With her mouth running dry, she could only bring herself to nod.
He folded the piece of paper back in two, his knuckles white as he handed it back to her. His eyes locked with hers, and her breath stuttered.
“Dela, I know what happened to your brother.”
Into a Dragon’s Soul
The Chronicles of the Four
Book Three
Marissa Farrar
Chapter One
Dela
THE PICTURE OF DELA Stonebridge and her brother Ridley trembled in her hand.
Around her sat the three men she’d come to think of as her best friends, and behind her lay the massive dragon that had saved her life on several occasions now. The heat from his body warmed her back, but the rest of her had grown cold.
She stared at the big Norc who’d just delivered information that had flipped her world upside down.
“What did you just say?” Her voice was barely a whisper, and the implications of Warsgra’s words lodged like a stone in the centre of her chest.
“I know what happened to your brother.” Warsgra raked his hand through his long hair and, to her surprise, he glanced over at Vehel. “It happened during one of the Passovers a few years ago.”
Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series Page 43
