Dragon Trial: Dragon Guard Series book 1

by Cassidy, Debbie

  He wanted me to leave behind my life, my job, and my friends for a dream that would end in shackles, pain, and most probably death. “No.”

  He blinked at me in surprise and then his expression smoothed out. “I’m sorry. I don’t think I heard you right.”

  My scalp prickled, and I bit the insides of my cheeks to quell my arguments. I could kick a merc’s arse and wield an axe like a pro, but defiance toward my dad was out of the question. This was the man who’d raised me, protected me, and taught me all I knew. He’d trained me, not only to defend myself but also to survive. He’d never steered me wrong, and lying to him the last few months had been torture. But this ... I couldn’t go along with this, not when my plan was so much better.

  He arched a brow. “Have you got something more to say?”

  Acquiescing was not an option. “I’m not going. And neither are you.”

  He blinked at me.

  “I have money. I’ve been saving. I agree that we should leave, but we should go east to the glade lands. There are several settlements there that we can join. We can afford to purchase land. I can run a workshop, Helgi can help me, and you can do whatever you want. You can retire, be a man of leisure, and the kids can maybe go to one of the education centers they have there.”

  His expression softened and something akin to pity flitted across his face.

  My spine straightened. “This isn’t some feeble fantasy. This is my plan and it will be good for us all. Just let me do this. Let me lead for once.”

  “The glade is your dream?”

  “Yes. It’ll be safe for us.”

  “Is that what you want? Safety?”

  Something dark and destructive stirred inside me, but I squashed it, not for myself but for the kids I’d saved. The children who were tucked up in bed upstairs dreaming of rainbows and fucking unicorns—at least that’s what I hoped they were dreaming of.

  All that mattered was this cobbled-together family. All that mattered was their safety. “Yes, this is what I want.”

  He tucked in his chin, his shoulders rising and falling as he struggled with some inner conflict. Gooseflesh broke out across my skin. Why did I get the impression there was more to his idea than what he was letting on?

  “Age doesn’t always go hand in hand with wisdom, Anya. You’re a grown woman, but you’re still naive when it comes to the way of this world. My decision to leave for the Furtherlands is no whim. It’s part of a long-term plan. A necessity. If you don’t come, then I will be forced to go alone.”

  My heart stuttered. “You’d leave us?”

  He sighed, his dark eyes gleaming wetly in the lantern light. “No, the children would come with me.”

  My mouth went dry. “You’d leave me.”

  “I would have no choice.”

  What the heck did that mean? “Of course you have a choice.”

  “Oh, my sweet child, if only that were true.”

  He hadn’t called me his sweet child in years, not since I’d shot up in height and overtaken him. It stirred warm memories of hot cocoa and bedtime stories, of nights spent mapping the constellations in a starlit sky. He’d been my guide for too long for me to turn my back on him now.

  “Think on what it is you want to do,” he said. “I have to leave to buy supplies at dawn, but I’ll be back in a day. When I return, you can tell me what you’ve decided.”

  He was serious. If I left for the glades it would be without him. The thought of leaving him behind, of being separated from him and the kids for any length of time, made my heart ache with sorrow.

  My anklet stung my skin, and I winced.

  “What is it? Is it your eye?” Dad leaned in to examine the bruise, but it was probably already healing. That was one of my Skin curses, or in this case, a blessing. I healed fast, like stupid fast. Aside from the healing, the only indication of my mutant status were the golden scales that covered my back.

  The chain pinched me again.

  “Anya? What hurts?”

  My heart. “I think I might be developing an allergy to my anklet.”

  Dad’s face pinched. “Let’s hope not.”

  Yeah. That would suck, particularly because there was no way to remove the damned thing. We’d tried everything. But the chain was impervious to damage. It had been there for as long as I remembered—a part of me that grew with me, a constant in the many lonely nights as I’d traveled from settlement to settlement begging for scraps. Had my birth parents put it there? Why had they abandoned me? Why had they forced me to have blood on my hands? There was no memory of them, and when I pushed, there was only darkness and sorrow, and so I’d stopped pushing and focused merely on survival. But I hadn’t been alone. There’d been someone with me. A friend, a confidant, a figment of my imagination. He’d kept me alive until Illyrian found me.

  Now Illyrian was Dad, and the children we’d taken in were my siblings. This was my family. The past no longer mattered. All that mattered was the future.

  Dad rolled up his sleeves, exposing the faded scar on his arm that looked like a crescent moon. “Let me see your ankle, Anya.”

  My eyes pricked. If we parted, then he’d never be able to tend to me again, to call me sweet child or just tell me he loved me. The fear of being alone, of being lost was still there under my skin like a sickness waiting to be activated so it could eat away at everything good I’d built so far.

  “Anya?”

  “Um, yeah.” I pulled off my boot and rolled up my trouser leg. The chain winked at me, snug against my skin, innocuous and innocent-looking, Except, where it had been silver yesterday, it now sported a definite golden tinge.

  Dad sucked in a breath.

  “What? What is it? What does it mean?”

  His eyes were hooded, and he sat back. “I don’t know, but maybe we will find answers in the Furtherlands. There are rumors of powerful shamans, truthseers, and many magic wielders. The technology of Draco has little sway in the Furtherlands. If there is help to be found, then we will find it there.” He stood and placed a hand on my head. “If you decide to come, that is. I love you, Anya. I promise you, if you come with me, the journey will be worth it.”

  I nodded. How could I disregard the possibility now?

  He smiled, but then his expression hardened. “What do you do if you come home and find me unexpectedly gone? If I don’t return?”

  He’d been asking me this ever since he’d brought me home, and I answered instinctively. “I go to your room and find the floorboard.”

  He nodded. “Yes. If I’m gone, then you’ll find what you need beneath the floorboard under my bed.”

  “I remember.”

  He smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Good. And, Anya, whether you come with me or not, promise me no more jobs. There are rumors of Draco activity in the Outlands. Just ... Promise me you’ll keep a low profile.”

  “Yes, Dad. I promise.”

  And in that moment, I’d meant it. But even the best intentions can be diverted off track with the right incentive.

  * * *

  Upstairs, the creak of floorboards drew me past my room to the other one down the hall. The door was slightly ajar, and a lamp burned low.

  “Hey, are you guys still awake?”

  Silence greeted me, and the tops of two tousled dark heads peeked up out of the single bed the six-year-old twins, Gemma and Neddie, shared. Soft snores came from the double bed where June, the eldest, was asleep, red hair spilling over her cream pillow. But the single bed against the wall was empty.

  My heart sank, and closing the door softly behind me, I headed back to my room. Stefan was curled up asleep in my bed. A nightmare, no doubt. At ten years old, he was the middle child out of the four we’d rescued and the most recent addition to our ragtag family. He was small for his age, dark-eyed, dark-haired, and reflective. He’d barely spoken a word when Illyrian had brought him home two months ago, and now he spoke, but only to me. There was a strange bond between us, more mother and child than sister
and brother. Stronger than with the rest of the little ones, because when I looked into his eyes I saw my pain reflected back at me. His story was a closed book, opened only in his nightmares, and on those nights he’d crawl in beside me, shivering and sobbing until my steady heartbeat soothed his, until he drifted back to sleep. I usually carried him back to his own bed, but I was much too tired tonight. Crawling in beside him, I closed my eyes and fell deep into the land of dreaming.

  I was back in my first home. A child, weak and helpless, with the wind howling outside my tiny box room and whistling through the many gaps in the shutters. My arm hurt, the pain a dull throb that traveled up my neck and into my gums. Tears had long been shed and my eyes were now dry and swollen. Alone. Always alone. And then the voice filled the room. I’d heard him before in my dreams. He was a memory of shadows and comfort and safety. He came when I was sad or hurting. He would hum to me about far-off places, cocooning me in warmth and safety for a little while. But tonight was different. Tonight, he was a portent of death.

  Not this. This you will not stand for. Get up. Get up, it’s time to set yourself free.

  His voice was older than mine, but young enough to forge a bond. My heart sped up, partly in fear, and partly in anticipation. Free? Where could a child alone go?

  You will not be alone. I will be with you. I will not abandon you to false promises. We will survive this together.

  I slipped, trembling from the dirty mattress on the floor, my bony body encased in boy’s britches too small and a shirt too large. I was ungainly, all limbs and elbows and covered in bruises all shades of black, blue, and yellow. Because there was nothing I could do to please my father. Nothing I could do to bring a smile to my mother’s face. A burden, an ox, a servant in this house. That was my place. But tonight, they had gone too far.

  Holding my broken arm close to my chest, I stood in the center of the tiny room and allowed my phantom guardian’s voice to imbue me with strength. No more. I would be a victim no more. They weren’t my real parents, they’d told me so, thrown it in my face time and time again, but they’d been all I’d had.

  Free. It is time to be free. Time to move on.

  With his voice in my head and his hand steadying me, I slipped from the room to end the horror with an act of blood that would claim my innocence.

  Crimson ... so much crimson ...

  I surged up from the sandman’s arms on a silent scream. The dream melted like quicksilver, leaving only impressions. Blood, death, warmth, and safety—conflicting emotions and an ache deep in my soul that spoke of a loss I didn’t quite comprehend. It had been a while since my memories had surged up to haunt me. And the voice ... He’d gone when Illyrian found me. There was no need for a subconscious guardian when I’d found a flesh and blood one, yet still the ache never left, because after that night, there had been more ... so much more.

  As I drifted back to sleep, the tap, tap of branches on my window attempted to tug me into wakefulness, but my body was already falling into darkness. Just as I slipped away, a thought spiked my blood with lethargic urgency that would be left unfulfilled.

  There were no trees outside my window.

  * * *

  Dad left at dawn, and the day was spent tinkering in my tiny workshop behind the barn while the sun set on the sly. The heavens were red as blood when my mind resurfaced from the nuts and bolts of building something.

  June, the eldest of the kids at fifteen years old, popped her head around the workshop door. “Supper’s ready. You should wash up and come in.”

  “Save me some for later. I’m not hungry just yet.”

  My new project was an upgrade on Juniper, larger, more powerful, and made to carry us all. As I walked around it, my foot caught on the mat on the floor. It covered a trap door, a precaution Illyrian had insisted on when we’d moved in. The man was nothing if not cautious. It was stocked with tinned goods, blankets, and bottles of water. In case of a storm, Illyrian had said, although in my ten years in this part of the Outlands we’d never had a storm worthy of hiding underground.

  June frowned. “You need to eat, Anya. You need to keep your strength up. Illyrian said we’re to go on a trip soon. We need to gather our strength for the journey.”

  I flexed my bicep. “Trust me. I’m not going to starve.”

  She shook her head as if despairing of me. “Have it your way. Do you want me to put the little ones to bed?”

  “Please.”

  I had no idea why she was asking, she did it most nights anyway. She’d been the first I’d found. The first I’d liberated almost two years ago. Helgi and I had stopped off at a tiny tavern in a settlement to the east and ended up playing in a card game. June’s uncle had put her up as part of his bid. I’d broken his face and taken her with me. Simple.

  Every child here had a story. Every child was close to my heart. I’d take on the world to protect them. To give them a better life, because it felt as if I’d been drawn to them, sent to them—fuck it, call it what you want, fate, destiny, whatever. These kids were my chosen people.

  “You have that look on your face,” June said. “Don’t dwell.” She patted my arm, and in that moment, the fifteen-year-old girl seemed a decade older than my twenty-two years. “Let the past go.”

  Words I’d whispered to her in the night when she’d woken sweat-soaked from a nightmare and begged the demons to leave her alone.

  Let the past go.

  I smoothed back her hair. “I’ll be in soon.”

  She left me to my machines and the magic I could make with them, but the allure was gone for now. Instead, I climbed up to perch on a ledge on the roof, my mind whirring. Helgi was due to arrive at any moment and the ledge was a good spot to watch out for her. I’d have to tell her the job was off, that I was leaving this place, because there was no way I was letting Dad make the trip to the Furtherlands alone with the kids. He needed me. They needed me.

  This farm wouldn’t be missed, but I couldn’t be without Helgi. We’d been buddies since I was ten years old. I’d have to convince her to come with us.

  A soft caw pulled my attention to the right. A raven was perched on the corner of the roof, one beady eye fixed on me. It sat completely still, not a twitch, not a cock of the head. Creepy. But creepy had never bothered me before. I leaned back and stared at the bird.

  “What do you think? You think traveling to the Furtherlands is a good idea?”

  The bird’s eye glinted.

  “Yeah, I’m not sure either.”

  Movement in the periphery of my vision distracted me from the bird momentarily. It was Helgi climbing the rise, keeping low to the ground like a coyote or wolf on the prowl. The flutter of wings pulled my attention back to the bird, and I caught a flash of red and white, blood and bone, as it rose up into the air and flew away. Ice trickled through my veins. The right side of the bird’s head had been crushed. There was no way it could have been alive. No way it could have sat there and cawed at me. But it wasn’t the first time this had happened. Not the first time something dead had found me. And it probably wouldn’t be the last. It was a residue of my past, and my consciousness demanded it remain there. Pushing down the disconcertion, I scrambled down from my perch to meet my friend.

  I ambled toward her. “Dad’s not here.”

  She gave me a questioning look and so I filled her in.

  “You’re leaving ...” She pressed her lips together and then nodded curtly. “Yeah, you got to do what’s best, ya know. Your dad’s a stand-up guy. He knows best.”

  “I want you to come with me.”

  She looked up sharply. “What? I can’t. You know I can’t.”

  There was doubt in her tone, and I pounced on it. “I had a dream. You and me with our own workshop in the glades. That was the plan, but you know what? We can have that in the Furtherlands. I’m sure we can. Fuck everyone, Helgi. You don’t owe them anything.”

  Helgi had her fair share of demons from her childhood. A whore for a mum, and a da
d who’d left when she was barely five years of age. Her mother had passed on a year ago, and Helgi had taken over the upkeep of the house for her layabout brothers who’d both gotten themselves wives but couldn’t be bothered to work to keep them.

  She licked her lips, considering. “You want me to go with you?”

  “I need you to go with me.”

  Helgi averted her gaze and blinked several times in rapid succession. She was trying not to cry, and I gave her a moment, looking off into the distance until she composed herself.

  “I dunno, Anya,” she said finally. Her voice was steady, the threat of tears averted.

  “You’ve done enough for them.” I placed a hand on her shoulder. “You deserve your own adventure.”

  She grinned up at me. “You know what, you’re right. Sod ’em. I’m in. But on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “We do this last job. It’s gonna be big. I can feel it. And the money will set us up in the Furtherlands. We can buy the tools we need for the workshop. Maybe source some of the tech parts you like with the chips and shit?”

  Excitement sparked in her eyes, piercing me and infecting me with enthusiasm. She had a point, but I’d made a promise to Dad.

  “I promised my dad I wouldn’t do any more jobs.”

  Helgi cocked her head. “But didn’t he teach you to honor your commitments?”

  Helgi and her loopholes and that infectious grin, argh… “You know what, he really did.”

  She winked. “Now, let’s get this done and then we can plan our journey.”

  She was going to come with me, and suddenly the whole journey into unknown territory didn’t feel so crazy. It felt like an epic adventure waiting to unfold.

  * * *

  We never went on a job without loading up. Years of chopping wood and pulling the plough because the damn ox was too lazy had honed my muscles. And with Jezebel snug in her sheath across my back, twin daggers at my hips, and two small ones tucked into my boots, I was feeling the weight. But it was a pleasant sensation, as if I was finally fully dressed. Worn leather slacks, sturdy leather boots, and my thickest shirt, the one padded at the elbows and across the chest to minimize impact in case of hand-to-hand combat, completed the ensemble.