Dragon Dreams (The Chronicles of Shadow and Light) Book 1

by Dusty Lynn Holloway

  Dhurmic glared at him.

  “Sit,” Nachal ordered. “Speak.”

  A water pitcher sailed over his head, and crashed against the wall. He flinched from the spray of water. Tiny shards of pottery embedded themselves in his skin and hair. He growled, picking them out carefully. “If you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” he said grimly, “I’m going to take my sword and beat you over the head with it.”

  “Hah,” Dhurmic snorted. “Ye can’t catch me.”

  Nachal looked up. His face was deadly serious. “Would you like to test that theory?” he said silkily.

  “Oh, stow it,” Dhurmic growled. “Yer intimidation doesna work on me.”

  Nachal folded his arms over his chest, sat with his back leaning against the wall, and waited.

  Dhurmic glared at him. “Ye’ve been around too many dragons.”

  “They are exceptionally patient,” he agreed.

  Dhurmic looked away from him and sighed wearily. It was probably all the pacing, Nachal thought with mirthless humor. He watched warily as Dhurmic walked over to the side door and stared out at the Clan Hall.

  “I need ta get away fer a while.”

  “Why?”

  Dhurmic chuckled grimly. “Ye’ll see tomorrow.”

  “I want to see now!” Nachal all but shouted. The thin patience that he had been holding on to was now gone. He would never make a good dragon. Good thing he was human. “Tell me what’s going on.”

  Dhurmic flinched but continued staring moodily out the door. “I fell in love with the Bremgarian Princess,” he said finally. Quietly.

  Nachal sighed, closing his eyes. “Does she love you as well?”

  “Aye. She loves me as well.”

  Nachal rubbed his hands over his face, feeling the stubble there. He hadn’t shaved in a while. “Has your clan ostracized you?”

  “They wouldna dare,” Dhurmic spat. “Nay, they just enjoy making me life miserable.”

  “Dhurmic,” Nachal said quietly, gently, “you know she can’t marry you. You have no title.”

  Dhurmic spun around, his face livid. “Don’t ye think I dinna know that?” he shouted. He grabbed another pitcher and it too sailed over Nachal’s head, shattering with a wet crash. He didn’t even flinch this time. “Don’t ye think I—” Dhurmic sank against the door post, and put his face in his hands.

  Nachal’s eyes burned as he got up and went to crouch in front of his friend. “Dhurmic? The Garden of Masters. If you earn a spot there in life, does that give you a title?”

  “Nay,” Dhurmic said, lifting his red-rimmed eyes up toward Nachal’s face. “It makes me the next king.”

  “King is a title,” Nachal argued logically.

  “Nay, ’tis not. ’Tis above the royal branches in a place all its own.”

  “What if you could do it? What if you could earn a spot there? Would you be able to marry—what’s her name?”

  “Reshna.”

  “Would you be able to marry Reshna?”

  “Aye,” Dhurmic sighed. “But ’tis nearly impossible.”

  “Nearly impossible, not impossible.”

  He watched as hope—faint, nearly impossible hope—entered Dhurmic’s eyes. He stood and offered him his hand. Dhurmic clasped it roughly as he got to his feet.

  “Let’s get some supplies,” they said together. Dhurmic shook his head, his lips twitching suspiciously. Nachal laughed.

  “Great minds think alike.”

  “Better minds steal their friend’s gold,” Dhurmic said with his hand held out. “Hand it over. Ye can’t bargain to save yer life.”

  Nachal frowned but dug his gold pouch out of his pack and handed it over. “I need that to last me,” he warned.

  “Aye,” Dhurmic agreed. “That’s why it’s better in me hands, and not yers.”

  Nachal scowled darkly at his retreating back.

  The commerce center was just as he had envisioned it. Almost exactly so. There were so many dwarves there that he had to carefully watch his step, lest he should inadvertently knock someone over. They had many varied clothes with many varied looks. Their hair ran the color scale from brown to black to red. A few had dark blond hair, but those were rare.

  The men had varying lengths of beards. Some were tucked neatly into their wide belts, others were braided or hanging loosely down their chest. The women, he could see, were easily distinguishable. They wore dresses for one and had much more delicate features as well. All of them had long hair that flowed down their backs. They didn’t look soft, not by anyone’s standards, but neither were they as hard and muscled as the men.

  The clothes distinguished which clan a dwarf was from. The clans—he knew from Dhurmic—all had distinct jobs within Bremgar. Some were fisherman, herdsman, and farmers. Others were miners, guardsmen, healers, and so forth. Dhurmic’s clan—the Brulna Clan—all wore the same clothes that Dhurmic wore—black boots, shimmering, silver-black shirt with black breeches, and a wider belt than all of the others because of the many tools that they carried on it. Even the women’s dresses were color matched.

  It seemed to make things easier because, as he looked around, he noticed that certain clans bartered at certain stalls. A small etching of the clan’s animal was chiseled at the top of each vending stall. Dhurmic bartered only at the ones that supported his clan, and Nachal could see that his clan was probably by far the largest. The other clans had a few stalls here and there, but the Brulna Clan seemed to commandeer most of the trading center.

  He glanced around, and then glanced back as something caught the periphery of his vision. Dhurmic was shouting into someone’s face, completely livid. The owner of the stall sat relaxed in a chair, staring up at the red-faced Dhurmic above him.

  He smiled casually and said something.

  Dhurmic went for his throat.

  Nachal sprinted.

  “Let him go,” Nachal panted. The dwarf was turning purple, his eyes were bulged, and he was clutching uselessly at Dhurmic’s fingers. Dhurmic ignored him—like always. His voice grew quieter, which was an easy thing to do considering that the whole commerce center had gone perfectly still. “Dhurmic, it’s not worth it. Let him go.”

  Dhurmic’s large hands reluctantly released the other dwarf’s neck. The dwarf collapsed back down to his chair, gasping and holding on to his neck tenderly as air flowed through it once again.

  “Ye may say what ye will about me, but dinna ever let me hear ye speak against her again. She is yer princess, and will one day be yer queen.” He picked up the supplies that he had dropped and walked away, throwing a last parting shot over his shoulder. “I need me supplies by sundown. Ye know where I live.”

  “An enemy,” Nachal guessed once they had cleared some distance.

  “Nay.” Dhurmic’s voice was quiet. “He used ta be a friend.” He looked around to the silent, frozen dwarves that surrounded them and glared. The huge area suddenly came back to life. Dwarves moved closer to each other and spoke in lowered voices, glancing over at Dhurmic from the corner of their eyes and nodding. Children who didn’t know any better just stood where they had frozen and stared. Gossip ran through the crowd like trickling water.

  Dhurmic snorted in disgust as he tried to drag Nachal out of the huge area. Nachal resisted. “I need some lumacrystals,” he protested. “Will they sell to me?”

  “They’d better,” Dhurmic said grimly. He stalked over to a stall that displayed all of the various clan animals above it in faint etchings. The dwarf in the stall was quiet. His eyes were respectful. Dhurmic gestured down at the huge display resting atop fine, black velvet. “Get more than one. They never grow dim, but if ye break one ye won’t be able to replace it easily.”

  “I won’t be able to replace it ever,” Nachal corrected quietly, trying to decide what he wanted. He finally decided on one in the shape of a dolphin and another that was a smaller version of the roses that circled the commerce center. Each one fit snuggly in the size of his palm.

  He
paid the price that the dwarf asked, and heard Dhurmic sigh beside him. “What?” he asked, although he already knew the answer.

  “Lack of brains and money dinna go well together.”

  Nachal looked down at the dwarf in the stall. “I think I’ve just been insulted.”

  The dwarf’s green-flecked eyes twinkled.

  “See,” Dhurmic called, walking away swiftly in disgust, “if ye had brains, ye would know that ye’ve just been insulted.”

  Nachal thanked the now laughing dwarf for his purchases, and ran to catch up with Dhurmic, who was by now almost clear of the commerce center.

  “I remember when you used to be cheerful,” he remarked idly. They made their way past the Garden of Masters and onto the stone street behind it.

  “I’m always cheerful,” Dhurmic replied.

  Nachal stopped and stared at him in astonishment. Then he started to laugh. He laughed so hard and for so long that he ended up doubled over, trying to hold on to his slipping purchases. Tears streamed down his face.

  Dhurmic rammed him in the stomach with his head. Nachal’s breath left him with a grunt, and all of his things went flying. They grappled with each other for several long minutes, trying to get the best of each other, until, finally, Nachal pinned him.

  Dhurmic didn’t even hesitate before he head-butted him in the nose; blood started spurting out. It was broken; he could feel it. He rolled over onto his back and pinched it to stem the flow. “Why’d you do that, you great, ugly fiend? I’ve never had my nose broken before. It will mar my good looks.” His words sounded stuffy and whiny. Dhurmic snorted at him and started picking up the supplies.

  “Ye were getting annoying.” His tone of voice was condescendingly indifferent; the fight just a tussle between brothers.

  Nachal spit blood out of his mouth and hoisted himself to his feet. “Fine, but you carry the supplies.”

  “Jest walk. Yer bleedin’ all over the stone walkway.”

  “You’re all heart,” Nachal growled.

  Chapter Ten- Unexpected

  They traveled swiftly, barely stopping to rest the several long days and nights that it took them to get there. Dhurmic growled a lot under his breath and gave Nachal a lot of dirty looks, but he rarely openly complained. He just tried to keep up. They entered Tulenoss just as the sun was setting on the eighth day.

  Nachal stopped suddenly, holding a hand out to keep Dhurmic from barreling into him. “Are we at the right place?” he asked in confusion.

  “Aye, of course,” Dhurmic said. “I’ve been here before.” He drew level with Nachal and they both looked down at the seaport spread below them. At the empty seaport spread below them. Small fishing trolleys were bobbing in the calm, deep blue waters outside of the harbor, but no larger ships could be seen, and none were docked at port. The town itself was sprawling, huge avenues of shops and commerce centers, dotted with small, one-story stone houses glimmering in the near dusk.

  “Why is it so empty then? Was it like this the last time you were here?”

  Dhurmic shook his head somberly. “Nay,” he said quietly. “It wasna. Let’s go down and hav’ a look.”

  They came down the wide path of the hillside to the base of the town and entered its quiet, somnolent atmosphere cautiously. There should have been at least a few shops open at this time of day, but there weren’t. Every single one of them was locked up tight. The only light from the town came from the illuminated houses and a mass of lanterns that were lit down by the empty docks.

  Something was wrong.

  “Let’s find an inn for the night,” Nachal said quietly. Dhurmic nodded. They walked until they found one, tucked into a small corner just down the path from the wharf. The outside was large, probably encompassing half a block or so, and the inn itself looked to be three stories tall. A sign over the door read Water’s Edge Inn.

  Nachal tried to push the door open, but it wouldn’t budge. He looked over at Dhurmic, who looked back at him with tight, wary eyes. What inn locked its doors at night?

  Dhurmic banged his heavy fist against the door, rattling it in its hinges and startling Nachal. He lifted his hand to bang again when the door suddenly flew open. An older woman stood at the threshold. She had steel-colored hair tied back in a bun, shrewd, green eyes, and a sword pointed at Nachal’s throat.

  He put his hands up and tried to be as still as possible. “We aren’t here to hurt you,” he said quietly.

  “Here now, mistress,” Dhurmic said gruffly. “We willna harm ye. Take the sword from his throat.”

  She eyed Dhurmic while keeping the sword carefully poised at Nachal’s throat. “A dwarf,” she muttered under her breath. In a normal voice she said, “I’ve heard the like before. Desperate people in desperate times.”

  “We will not harm you,” Nachal said softly. “I promise.”

  Finally, the sword lowered, though she cautiously kept her guard. Nachal sighed in weariness and wiped the trickle of blood running down his throat. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

  “You can come in,” she said reluctantly. “The only reason I’m willing to trust you for the moment is because you travel with a dwarf. Dwarves are not known to be traitors.”

  Dhurmic’s chest nearly puffed out of his shirt, and he gave Nachal a lazy smirk. Nachal sighed again. “Madam, I am grateful for the chance, but if you continue to stroke his ego, he will become even more difficult to live with than he currently is.”

  Dhurmic glared and shoved him. Nachal grunted. He turned his attention back to the proprietress. “Do you have rooms available?”

  She nodded as she moved deeper into the room. “I didn’t say I liked dwarves. I said they were less likely to be traitors.” She reached down under the counter of the bar and brought out a large, cream-colored ledger. She flipped through the pages quickly until she found an empty page and then scribbled something on a fresh line in neat, regimented handwriting. “Don’t much like elves either,” she muttered under her breath.

  Nachal’s heart seized, but Dhurmic only laughed softly. “Do ye like anyone, mistress?”

  She looked up from the ledger in surprise then her green eyes went flat. “Aye, dwarf. I like humans. Unfortunately, nearly the whole lot of them are useless.”

  Dhurmic laughed loudly. Nachal smiled and shook his head as he handed over the amount that she demanded for the rooms. Dhurmic stopped laughing abruptly. Nachal’s smile grew broader. If there was one way to shut him up, it was by paying full price for something. He winked at the woman. “He hates it when I don’t haggle.”

  Her eyes lost some of their steely look, her mouth softening slightly around the corners. “You should listen to him, young one. Dwarves are canny traders and merchants.”

  The woman put the money into a pocket in her apron and began leading them around. Her voice was brisk. The main floor of the inn was divided into three main areas, the kitchens—which were housed behind a swinging wooden door—and the bar and dining area. The bar was small and occupied only a fraction of the large room. The dining area was much larger.

  “I don’t serve many drinks these days, but if you’d like something I can try to accommodate you. What I do serve plenty of is good food.” She turned and eyed them. “People come from all over just to taste what I create in those kitchens. You should count yourselves lucky to eat here. I don’t take orders. You get what I decide I’m making for that day. Understood?”

  They both nodded solemnly, looking at each other out of the corner of their eyes and fighting a smile. She saw this and shook her head in disgust. “This is obviously the dining area,” she said dismissively. The dining area had booths flush against the wall, and several wooden tables set artistically around the remaining space. Lanterns hung along the wall next to each booth, and smokeless, beeswax candles lit the tables. Each booth and table sat empty, despite the early hour.

  She led them up two flights of stairs to the third floor landing, opened a door, and waved them forward. “This is the bathing cha
mber. I bring fresh, warm water up twice a day. If you want to bathe, that would be the best time. If you haul it up yourself, I won’t charge you for it. If you make my old bones do it for you, I’ll charge you plenty.” She indicated another tub and several smaller tubs. “Those tubs are for any clothing you have that needs to be washed. I can do that for you too, but I’ll charge more than you probably make in a lifetime.” She turned to Dhurmic absently. “Except maybe your lifetime, dwarf.” She shook her head, muttering under her breath again something that sounded suspiciously like, “I hate laundry.”

  “Do ye like yer occupation, mistress?”

  “What makes you think I don’t like it?” she snapped.

  Dhurmic looked at Nachal and winked. “Just a guess,” he said with a straight face. Nachal shook his head. Dhurmic seemed to be most in his element among those who spoke bluntly. A consequence of living within Bremgar’s borders for too long.

  The woman ignored him, stepping around him as she continued. “The bathing area is the only thing on this level of the inn. If you take the third set of stairs up”—she indicated with her hand—“you’ll find yourself on the roof.”

  Dhurmic had to ask. Nachal watched the question bubbling behind his eyes and then finding its way to his tongue. He sighed.

  “Why would ye need to be on the roof?” Dhurmic asked, stroking his beard in thought.

  The woman flattened him with a look. “Some people find it nice to go up there and think.”

  Dhurmic smiled. “Ye won’t be findin’ me there then.”

  The woman turned abruptly and led them back down the stairs to the second floor. Nachal stuck a foot out to casually trip Dhurmic, who shoved him back hard, avoiding the outstretched leg with alarming grace.

  “This is where all the rooms are,” the woman said, ignoring them completely. “All of the rooms are along this wall to the right and left of the stairs, and each faces the ocean.” She pointed to her left. “Two of those rooms are currently taken, so you and the dwarf may have two along the right side.”

  Dhurmic elbowed his way past Nachal until he was right next to the woman. “The dwarf’s name is Dhurmic,” he said gruffly, his eyes twinkling.

  “I don’t care,” she said curtly. “Haven’t I made that clear yet?”