The Dragon's Curse

by Bethany Wiggins

  His words make me bristle. “You go ahead and choose your fate, Golmarr, but I will choose for myself how much danger I am willing to be in.” I glare at him. “I also choose to never give up on loving you and will do everything in my power to be with you for the rest of my life. Evil is coming? Fine. Let’s fight it. Dragons want to destroy me? Yes. I already know. There might be a lot of things I cannot control, but I will choose whom I love!”

  Despite the sorrow in his eyes, he smiles. “Calm down and put away your claws. There’s no need to fight with me. I am not your enemy.”

  “I will choose whom I will or will not fight with, Golmarr! And I think Draykioch might hold the answers we are looking for. I am willing to take the risk of sailing there if it means helping you. Besides, you’re prepared to get on a boat and sail to the desert. I don’t see what the difference is.”

  “You don’t?” he asks. I shake my head. “The difference is, when we sail to Ilaad, we stay close to shore. If a dragon smashes our boat, we can still swim to land. To sail to Draykioch, we have to cross the open sea for five days.” He exhales so deeply his ribs visibly deflate. “Do you really think we need to go there?”

  “Yes!”

  “All right. I trust you to make that decision for us. Instead of taking a boat to the desert capital, we will sail to Draykioch.” He throws his blanket aside. “Enzio?”

  Across the room, the lump on the bed stirs. A moment later, Enzio sits up, scrubbing a hand through the unruly curls on his head. “Don’t tell me it is already morning,” he says, and then he sniffs. “Something smells good.”

  “There has been a change of plans, my friend.” Golmarr puts his foot into his boot and cinches the laces tight over his Trevonan leggings. “We are going to Draykioch.”

  All traces of sleep scatter from Enzio’s face. He grins and stands, and starts combing his hair to the side. “I will be a legend among my own people when we return.”

  “You know nobody returns from Draykioch, right?” Golmarr asks.

  Enzio nods. “But we have Suicide Sorrow. She will die by her own hand. That means she will live to return from the Serpent’s Island, and I believe that greatly increases our chances of survival.”

  “Let’s hope,” Golmarr says with a frown. I flinch at his doubt.

  Enzio’s nostrils flare, and he stomps across the room to Golmarr. “What is wrong with you?” he growls.

  Golmarr ties the laces on his second boot and stands, glowering at Enzio. “Plenty of things are wrong with me. Would you like to point out something specific?”

  Enzio glances at me and lowers his voice, but I can hear every word he says. “You are one of the few men I know who has the good fortune to fall in love with a woman as amazing as Sorrowlynn. And she has been given a fate blessing by the most powerful wizard ever known that says she will die by her own hand. Yet you choose to disregard it! You need to stop thinking that you are the best warrior in the world and could kill her on a whim, because you can’t! She is Suicide Sorrow, and even though you already tried once, you couldn’t kill her! She has worked so hard to get strong enough to find you despite having her heart utterly broken by you, and how do you repay her months of effort?” He puffs out his chest and takes a tiny step closer, making me wonder if this conversation is going to come to blows. “This is how you repay her effort, and sorrow, and pain, and work—by treating her like you cannot stand to be in the same room with her? Where is your faith? Your hope?”

  Golmarr stares at Enzio, utterly dumbfounded. And then he steps around him and wraps me in his arms. “I am so sorry,” he whispers. “So incredibly sorry.” I hear Enzio cross the room, and then the door opens and closes, and I am alone with Golmarr for the first time in half a year. He leans away just enough to look into my eyes. There is no hatred there, only pain that matches my own. “I have been so scared of hurting you that I haven’t been thinking clearly. I cannot kill you.” He says it like he is trying to convince himself.

  “I know. And you are alone with me, and you are touching me, but there is no hatred in your eyes.”

  He cups the side of my face and leans his forehead against mine. “The hatred is still there, but right now, the other emotions I am feeling are stronger. Much stronger. That seems to help—focusing on something stronger than the hatred.” He lowers his lips to mine and leaves them there, soft and still. With both his hands he frames my face and holds on to me with such care—as if he’s afraid I might break. But then he lifts his mouth from mine, and his eyes are filled with anguish.

  I press my hand to his chest and ask, “What’s wrong?”

  “I shouldn’t be kissing you like this right now. We have so many problems.”

  “Problems can be worked out,” I say.

  “Yes, but if we put our love for each other above everything else and turn our backs on the dragons, they will win.”

  My heart drops. “Then we will not prioritize our love over the dragons.”

  “There is also this.” He tugs the tunic off his shoulder, showing me his black scales.

  “And that is why we are searching for the Infinite Vessel.”

  “And if we don’t—”

  I press my hands to his lips to silence him, for each word he says lands on me like a weight. “One thing at a time, Golmarr.”

  He nods, but the sadness doesn’t leave his eyes.

  Today, Golmarr rides close to me, so our knees bump. Every so often, he touches the back of my hand with his cold fingers. When our eyes meet, the worry in his softens, and he smiles.

  Harborton is the second-largest city in Trevon. The buildings are tall and built too close together, and on every street corner, children dressed in rags hold their hands out, hoping for a coin or a morsel of food. The icy wind presses their thin clothing tight against their bodies, showing legs barely thick enough to hold their weight, and ribs that have no fat. Before I have eaten a single piece of the breakfast we took from the inn, I give it all away. Neither Enzio nor Golmarr speaks a word in protest.

  “If Trevon is such a wealthy land, why are these children not being fed?” I ask.

  “Taxes are high here,” Golmarr explains. “All the money goes to the capital so King Vaunn can employ the largest army in the world, while the rest of his subjects barely have enough to eat. Because of you and Treyose, things are going to change. Treyose plans on turning his soldiers into farmers, merchants, tradesmen, and teachers, and lowering taxes so they can afford to feed their families. Now how do you feel about killing King Vaunn?”

  I sit a little taller and look straight forward. “I feel the same as I did before you told me.”

  Enzio maneuvers his mount closer to us. “And how did you feel before he told you?” he asks.

  I frown and study the sleek brown fur between my horse’s ears. “I feel bad for taking a life, but when I realize how many people will be affected for the better because of it, it takes the majority of the sting away. Vaunn was evil.”

  Enzio claps me on the shoulder. “I am glad I get to call you cousin.”

  I put my hand over his, grateful for his presence in my life.

  Long before I see the ocean, the sound of gulls and the tang of brine fill the air. The sky is a dismal gray that the morning sun barely burns through, and the cracks between the road’s cobbles are filled with pale sand and crushed shells that crunch beneath the horse’s hooves.

  The tall masts of docked ships come into view, stabbing above the cramped buildings. And then, gray and white and moving with a life of its own, the ocean appears.

  Taking the lead, I guide my horse forward onto the stone wharf and survey the docked ships. Enzio stops beside me and quietly asks, “Do you really think one of these ships will willingly sail to the Serpent’s Island?”

  Golmarr reins in on my other side. “The one we pick won’t have much choice,” he says, face fier
ce as he studies the ships in the harbor. “We need a fast ship, but more important, a sturdy one that can withstand whirlpools and waves as tall as mountains. Sorrowlynn, what do you know about ships?”

  I close my eyes, and then I am standing on a ship, my masculine hands holding on to the damp railing as I study the horizon. “I have traveled by ship before, but only as a passenger,” I say, and my eyes startle open. “I mean, not me. Melchior traveled by ship.” I press on my forehead and look at Golmarr. “Sometimes I feel like I’m getting lost in my own head, as if the memories that have been transferred to me are so big, and the space of my memories are so small in comparison.”

  Golmarr swallows so hard, his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. Reaching beneath my cloak, he wraps his fingers around mine and squeezes. “We have got to find the Infinite Vessel.” He dismounts and turns to Enzio. “You’re Satari. Every Satari I have ever met could barter me out of my clothes in the middle of a snowstorm. How good are your bartering skills?”

  Enzio grins. “Better than most, unless I am trading with a pretty woman.”

  “And what happens when you barter with a pretty woman?” I ask.

  “I typically get swindled in exchange for a kiss,” he says with a grin. His cheeks grow pink, and I laugh.

  Golmarr removes his saddlebags and staff from his mount, and holds his reins out to Enzio. “I need you to go sell our horses and tack for as much gold as you can get. We might possibly get enough money to bribe a ship to take us where we need to go. Just find an ugly old man to barter with.”

  I dismount and hand Enzio my reins, and then remove my saddlebag. “Thank you. We couldn’t do this without you,” I say.

  “My pleasure. Bartering for the Satari is like horsemanship for the Antharians. Not only are we skilled at it, we enjoy it.” He adjusts his cloak, finger-combs the curls off his forehead, and rides off.

  Golmarr begins studying the ships again, mouth firm, eyes narrowed. I step up so our shoulders are touching, waiting to see if he steps away. When he doesn’t move, I ask, “Are we going to board a ship and tell the captain we want to sail to Draykioch?”

  Not taking his eyes from the sea, Golmarr shakes his head. “I was thinking of something more along the lines of paying for passage to Ilaad, setting sail, and then pirating the ship once we have left the harbor.”

  I start laughing. When Golmarr remains silent, I tilt my head to the side and study him. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  He grins, and a spark of excitement lights up his eyes. Speechless, I look back at the ships. Even the smaller vessels have crews of a dozen thick, brawny men. My hand moves to my sword hilt and my thumb glides back and forth over an emerald dragon eye. “Three of us against an entire crew, and you don’t even have a sword, Golmarr. They’ll throw us into the ocean if they don’t kill us first.”

  “That would be a problem, except…”

  I stare at him, waiting. When he doesn’t continue, I ask, “Except what?”

  He grips my upper arm, and his face grows serious. “You’ve gotten a lot stronger. I see and feel the strength in you. So I’ll let you take care of the crew, Suicide Sorrow.”

  I smack his hand from my arm and glare. “Me? Against a dozen men?”

  Golmarr starts laughing. “I sent word to Anthar, asking for four of my brothers to meet us here.”

  “Your brothers are coming?”

  “Yes. They should be here by midday.” He looks so smug; I am tempted to wipe the grin from his face. Or kiss it away, but he turns back to the docked ships. “We need to walk the wharf until we see the ship we want. That way, when my brothers arrive, we will be ready to go.”

  “How did you get a message to your brothers so fast? We’ve only known since this morning we are going to Draykioch.”

  A sailor walking past jerks to a halt and stares at us for a long moment before hurrying away. Golmarr presses a finger to his lips. “Not so loud, Princess. I had Treyose send the message the day before the dragon attack.”

  “The day before? The day before the attack, we were still sorting through the tablets and scrolls. We hadn’t even spoken of taking a ship anywhere….You saw it in a vision.”

  Golmarr presses against his chest, against the scales, and grimaces. For a moment his gaze flickers to mine, guarded and cautious. “Yes.”

  Anger fires through me. “And you waited until now to tell me?”

  Mischief lights Golmarr’s eyes, and the side of his mouth pulls up into a half smile. “You are absolutely breathtaking when you are angry, Sorrowlynn.” He reaches a hand to my face and cups my cheek.

  I smack his hand aside again and ask, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He looks away and the smile fades. “Because I knew I would have to tell you about the possible futures I have glimpsed.”

  His words from this morning return to me, and I can’t bear to look at him, not when my eyes have filled with tears. Behind Golmarr, I see Enzio approaching. “Enzio is back,” I say, and quickly blink the tears from my eyes and force the frown from my face.

  Golmarr turns. “That was fast. How did the bartering go?” he asks, his voice light.

  Enzio holds up a fat purse and grins. “Better than even I would have expected. I don’t think the Trevonans are used to dealing with Satari. Let’s go find a ship.”

  Golmarr nods and puts his hand against the small of my back, gently urging me forward. We haven’t taken more than a dozen steps along the pier when Golmarr stops walking and shades his eyes. Out in the bay sits a small ship with two masts. Its sails are down, its anchor dropped against the tide. Three large ships surround it, and even here on the wharf, it is obvious the bigger ships are barring the smaller ship entry. “That one there,” Golmarr says, pointing to the small ship. “That’s our ship.”

  I study the flag atop the highest mast, flapping in the frigid wind, and a shiver of anticipation prickles my skin. The flag is bright yellow with a black curling serpent on it. “That ship has the royal flag of Ilaad.”

  Golmarr tilts his head to the side and squints at the flag. “So it does,” he says. “That was unforeseen.”

  Enzio frowns. “That explains why they aren’t letting it dock.”

  “Why?” Golmarr and I ask at the same time.

  “Because according to the man who bought our horses, Princess Yassim of Ilyaro is on that ship, and she is here to declare war on Trevon.”

  I laugh a bitter laugh under my breath. “How do you think our newly formed truce with Treyose will hold up when we pirate his enemy’s ship?”

  “Probably very well.” Even though I see the sorrow in his eyes, Golmarr winks. “We’ll know soon enough.”

  * * *

  We sit on the wharf, our feet dangling over the edge, my mind replaying the things Golmarr told me about our future. All I want is to live in a peaceful kingdom, where I never go hungry and never have to kill again. Instead, I feel like I have been handed a life sentence where everything I want has been torn from me and replaced with a life of fighting and struggle and pain. I feel as if I am standing on the side of a cliff, being forced to choose a destiny I do not want. Only this time, there is no dragon to give myself to. Sadness fills me, shuddering through my entire body until it feels like the very marrow of my bones is weeping.

  “What do you know about how the Ilaadi fight?” Golmarr asks.

  His words jerk me out of my dark thoughts, and I don’t have to think about his question. I scowl and shake my head. “Too much. They take pleasure in assassinating, and like to kill with their bare hands. For them, that is the greatest measure of skill.”

  He nods. “I once had a hand-to-hand combat tutor who claimed he was a former Ilaadi assassin—he did have an Ilaadi accent, and he was the best hand-to-hand fighter I had ever seen. No one could beat him in a weaponless match. He started to teach me, but that was when I
was thirteen years old. I didn’t have enough time to learn much.”

  “What happened to him?” Enzio asks. “I thought no one was allowed to teach the Ilaadis’ way of fighting.”

  “The poor man was assassinated before I turned fourteen. His neck was broken while he slept in the citadel’s great hall with nearly one hundred others. No one saw anyone come in or go out of the hall, and the soldiers standing watch on the fortress wall didn’t see anything, either.”

  “The best assassins in the world are trained in the Ilaad desert,” Enzio says.

  “True, but the best warriors in the world are trained in Anthar.” Golmarr gives Enzio a meaningful look, and Enzio starts laughing.

  We have been staring at the anchored Ilaadi ship all morning, quietly studying it and its crew. As far as we can tell, there are eight people aboard: seven men and one child. We see no princess, so assume she is either sleeping or belowdecks.

  “I have met only three Ilaadi in my life,” Enzio says. “They are worse than my people if you steal from them. If you rob one of the Black Blades, we get our money back by any means necessary, short of killing, and then take everything else the robber has, down to his skivvies. If you rob an Ilaadi, you will be dead before you can blink.”

  I nod and shudder. “They prefer to fight with their hands or small weapons, like knives and needles, because they kill cleanly and quickly, with less room for error if the assassin is well trained, less chance of being detected, and minimal blood, if executed properly.” A pair of mean eyes flickers in my memory, eyes I have seen with my own—not something forced upon my mind by the dragon. “The mercenary I killed in the Black Blades camp the day after we came down Gol Mountain.” I look at Golmarr. “Do you remember him?”

  He nods, and hatred flashes in his eyes. “His face still haunts me. That man weighed at least twice what you weighed. I thought he was going to be the death of you.”

  “I killed him by cutting an artery in his gut, assassin style.” My stomach turns. “I think I know every possible way to kill a person.” Images of killing start flashing through my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to think of anything to replace them. My hands grip the damp, rough stones of the wharf and squeeze as the images flash faster behind my shut eyes. A small moan slips from my parted lips as I try desperately to grasp any thought or image that will free my mind from its layers and facets of unwanted deathly knowledge, but nothing works. Warmth encircles my face, I turn my head to the side, and something soft presses on my lips.