Isle of Dragons (Quest of the Nine Isles Book 1)

by C. Greenwood

  A green-tipped spear thrown from below whizzed past my head to strike the dragon’s back. It glanced harmlessly off Skybreaker’s hard scales. But a hit to a less armored area would be the end of the dragon.

  Again I tried to convey the danger to Skybreaker, to show him this was a fight that couldn’t be won. This time I pressed the flat of my magic palm against his scales as I pushed a new mental picture at him—an image of blue sky and pale wispy clouds slipping by.

  My message must have got through. Immediately, I felt the dragon’s muscles bunch as he braced himself. Then he gave a roar that echoed through the surrounding forest, as he reared up on his back legs, nearly unseating me. To either side, his massive wings began to beat up and down, creating a wind that made the surrounding trees sway.

  Gradually, we lifted into the air. All around, our enemies fell back in fear. But I had no time to watch their terrified expressions. I was too busy holding tight to the dragon.

  Now the ground dropped away with dizzying speed. We rose past the tops of the highest trees and then swooped above the rocky cliffs that were the tallest points dotting the island. The higher we lifted, the smaller the land looked. Soon it was just a shrinking circle of green, surrounded by white sand and an endless expanse of rolling ocean.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Flying through the clouds on the back of Skybreaker was a very different experience than when I had been carried semiconscious in his claws after the sinking of Corthium. From this position I could see everything, the vast stretch of blue above and the blanket of sparkling sea below. The sun reflected brilliantly across the water, making it look like a sheet of glass with distant white-capped waves rippling across its surface.

  Once I recovered from my initial dizziness, I thrilled to the feeling of the wind rushing by. I was unfamiliar with the sensations of traveling at such breathless speed. Even the wisps of white fog we flew through were a new discovery for me, for they looked nothing like the fat puffy clouds I used to gaze up at from below. I had always imagined them as feathery, semisolid things but now I found them vaporous as smoke. Up here in the sky, there was nothing to slow us or bar our way, nothing to dodge over or under. Just the freedom of open space that seemed to stretch on and on forever.

  Skybreaker seemed to share in my pleasure, for he grew calm now that we were safely away from the island. In my mind’s eye, I saw a quick flash of memories that could only have come from him, memories of an ancient time when the people of the dragon had been many and had flown the skies like birds. Our wings had been more than ornamental then, and we soared high and far, always side by side with our bonded dragons.

  Through Skybreaker’s thoughts, I knew there was a reason flight felt so right to me. A dragonkind belonged to the sky as a fish belongs to water. Now that I tasted what I had been missing all my life, the de-winging of my childhood seemed crueler than ever. But I couldn’t be sad during a moment as exhilarating as this. Instead, I reveled in the warmth of the sun on my back and the feeling of the wind in my face. In my imagination I spread phantom wings, as if it was me and not Skybreaker propelling us forward.

  But elation could only last for so long. As the hours passed, my excitement gradually dimmed and worry set in. Did Skybreaker really know where he was going? I had suggested a destination to him but I had no idea how well he understood me. He was certainly familiar with Port Unity. I had seen enough of his mind to know that. But the place he remembered from decades gone by might no longer exist in the same place. From a dragon’s-eye view, the seaport had been little more than an insignificant pile of driftwood bobbing on the surface of the vast ocean, its inhabitants tiny ants swarming across the wooden walkways. He had probably taken little notice of the floating civilization of the wingless off-islanders. These folk didn’t share my people’s special relationship with dragons.

  I wondered what would happen if Skybreaker’s memory proved unreliable. Or what if we got to the floating port only to find my grandmother’s belief was wrong and my mother’s sister had never settled there? She could be anywhere after all these years. Then too, she had denied her heritage long ago and run away to live as an off-islander. Perhaps she wouldn’t care about the fate of the Ninth Isle. Maybe she would refuse to help me. Could I find the mountain where the Sheltering Stone had come from on my own?

  Atop all these distant worries was a more pressing one. I tried to ignore it, the raging thirst I developed as the sun beat down and the day wore on. I wished I had drank more back at the forbidden pool of the one-eyed giants. I had heard Port Unity described by the traders visiting Corthium as being many days’ sailing from the Ninth Isle. Even allowing for the fact a dragon covered distance much faster than a ship, there was no knowing how long it would be before we sighted the port. Until then, neither of us would have food or drink. I wasn’t worried about the dragon. I remembered that he had drank little on the island, seeming comfortable going extended periods of time without water. But I was less confident I could last as long without weakening.

  When evening came on, the bright sapphire shade of the sky was replaced with a darker hue. I felt weary from the events of the day as I watched the sun set to the west, casting streaks of pink, purple, and gold across the horizon. With the fading of the sun, the ocean below darkened too, suddenly looking less beautiful and more dangerous. I tried not to think what would happen if I fell asleep on the back of Skybreaker and dropped straight down into the water. Would the mad dragon rescue me or would I sink to a terrible death?

  Despite that fear, I was finding it hard to keep my eyes open. I shifted to recline as much as I dared without risking tumbling from my precarious perch between the dragon’s shoulder blades. If I was back home on the Ninth Isle, at this hour I would have already made the evening’s walk home from the Depository of Knowledge. I would have returned to my little house to prepare for bed. Distant night birds would be screeching in the jungle, and crickets would be singing outside my window.

  I wasn’t aware of closing my eyes. One moment I was gazing sleepily into the gathering darkness, counting stars and hearing no sound but the rhythmic beating of Skybreaker’s wings. The next, I was startled awake by a sudden crashing noise.

  * * *

  Confused and disoriented, I shot upright and tried to understand what was happening. The last thing I remembered was flying along smoothly on Skybreaker’s back. Now, suddenly the world had lurched wildly, nearly throwing me out of my seat.

  Skybreaker had landed.

  Recovering from the violence of the clumsy landing, I looked around, wondering where we were. From our height over the water, I had the impression of being atop something. My first thought was that we had come to rest on a low cliff on some small island. But then I saw it wasn’t rock or earth the dragon stood upon but bent and splintered pieces of timber. We were on the roof of some sort of building. Whatever the structure was, it was clearly not intended to hold up against the landing of a dragon. Some boards were broken, and others bulged slightly beneath Skybreaker’s weight. But luckily it was a well-made roof and showed no sign of collapsing.

  I slid down from Skybreaker’s back and went to the edge of the roof to look down. The scene below was shadowed by the falling dusk, but enough light remained for me to make out our surroundings. Below were many buildings similar to this one and a series of wooden walks branching off in different directions, leading toward a distant area where houses and other timber structures were crowded onto platforms of various levels. Rising higher than the roofs of those buildings were the tall masts of ships, their broad sails flapping like white flags in the wind. The craft moored at the docks weren’t little fishing boats, like the kind we had back home. These were massive vessels, some even bigger than those of the off-island traders who used to visit Corthium.

  The entire large town was encircled by ocean. But this was no island settlement built on a shore at the sea’s edge. Instead it sat directly on the water, floating and rocking gently atop the waves.

&nbs
p; I had heard of only one such place. Despite all my doubts, Skybreaker had brought us here, I realized. We had made it to Port Unity.

  The relief I felt was quickly smothered by anxiety. We were no longer stranded on a hostile island or lost in the sky above an endless sea. We had reached civilization. But the people I saw walking around on the distant platforms were not my people. Their clothing was different. They had no horns or wings. I knew if I could see them up close I would find their skin perfectly smooth, lacking the patches of scales that dotted mine. They looked bizarre, even ugly, to my eyes, and I imagined they would think much the same of me. Who could say how they would react to a lone dragonkind from the Ninth Isle landing among them?

  At least no one was paying any attention to us yet. We appeared to have arrived in a little-frequented area. Against the backdrop of the darkening sky, the dragon’s arrival hadn’t been noticed. Since the buildings and walkways nearest us were empty, there had been no one around to hear the noise of our clumsy landing. Considering the accidental damage we had done to the roof, that was for the best.

  I made up my mind.

  “I’m going out there,” I said to Skybreaker. “I’m going to talk with the locals and search for my mother’s sister. We two are the last of our kind. If anyone will help us on our quest to find a new Sheltering Stone, surely it will be her.”

  The dragon made no response. Maybe I was as mad as he was for expecting one.

  All the same, in case he was listening, I gave instructions. “You’d better stay up here and keep away from the edge of the roof so nobody will see you. These people have probably never encountered a dragon before, and we don’t want to frighten them. Worse, they might attack you or want to chain you up.”

  To make sure he understood that, I laid the flat of my magic hand against his scaly side and pushed a mental image at him, a picture of the chains he had been bound in at the watchtower.

  I felt his reaction to that, a mixture of outrage and dread.

  Afraid he would give one of his angry roars or take flight and swoop down on the unsuspecting townsfolk, I tried to send him calmer feelings.

  “You’re safe for now,” I told him. “But if you don’t want to become a prisoner again, don’t draw attention to yourself. Just wait quietly until I come back for you. I’ll return by dawn. I promise.”

  I sent him one last mental picture, a memory of the rising sun.

  It was hard to tell if any part of my message got through. But the swirling confusion of the dragon’s emotions was often difficult to read, his underlying pain and anger constantly clouding every thought.

  Hoping for the best, I left Skybreaker alone and walked around the edges of the roof, looking for an easy way down. I quickly found a row of wooden casks stacked against the side of the building and clambered down those. From out here in front of the structure, I was relieved to find Skybreaker wasn’t visible.

  I could see now that the building we had landed on and most of the similar places around it were probably warehouses of some kind, maybe storing the goods brought in from the ships anchored away in the town. There were still no people in this area. I decided I would have to go to the more populated part of the port to make my enquiries.

  Following one of the long walks leading away from the warehouses, I took in the sights and sounds of my new surroundings. The timbers beneath my feet shifted and creaked with the lapping of the waves. Having little experience with ships or even rowboats, the rocking sensation that came with floating on the water was strange to me. I took care, because there were no rails lining the walk. Only balance and attention kept me from stepping over the sides.

  White seabirds circled in the sky above, screeching and occasionally darting down to snatch fish from the water. Up ahead, lanterns bobbed in the shadows, the lights fixed to tall poles along the walkways. As the gloom of evening deepened, the lights looked like fireflies blazing in the distance. I followed the golden glow of those lamps, heading toward the part of town where the big ships were anchored.

  Platforms soon lined either side of the walk. On them stood small shacks that looked like simple, one-room homes. I began to pass people along the way, at first a few, then gradually a steady stream of them. They stared at me as if they had never seen anyone with scales and horns before. I looked at them with just as much curiosity.

  Until now, the only off-island folk I had ever seen had been the sea traders who occasionally landed on the island. We were allowed to do business with them, but our king discouraged us from getting too friendly with the visitors. It was important to protect the culture and secrets of our people from the alien ways of outsiders. Anyway, I rarely saw those sailors.

  Now that I was able to view their kind in larger numbers, I saw that it wasn’t only their hornless and wingless state that was odd. The hair of these strangers seemed to come in only dull colors. Some were dark, others blond. But there were none of the eye-catching blue and green hues found among dragonkind. Unlike my skin, which was burned to a golden tan by the sun, theirs was fair. Maybe that was because they wore so many layers of heavy clothing. Their sleeves were long and their collars high, their legs covered by trousers or skirts all the way down to the ankles. Many of the men wore three-cornered or wide-brimmed hats, while the women’s faces were sometimes half-hidden by floppy bonnets. Everyone wore long and heavy vests, aprons, tall boots, sometimes even woolen cloaks, despite the comfortable warmth of the night.

  The local costumes looked thick and smothering to me, dressed in my lightweight tunic, thin vest and leggings, and the short cape that was the common style on Corthium. The fabric I wore was soft and stretchable, as practical as the leather boots that bound my feet. A cord around my waist gave me a place to hang my beltpouch or any other items I wished to carry. I could see no need for the many pockets and shoulder bags favored by the off-islanders.

  The crudely fashioned spear I had brought with me attracted much attention, and I wondered, belatedly, if I should have left it behind with Skybreaker. But it was too late now. Anyway, I was glad I had it as I ventured deeper into town. The weapon lent me confidence.

  The wooden walkways were growing broader and more crowded. The homes I had walked by earlier were peaceful and dark. But as I neared the anchored ships, I began to pass noisy establishments, where light and raucous laughter spilled from the open windows and doorways.

  Where at first most of the locals around me looked like hungry fisherfolk or poor dockworkers, I noticed a change in the crowds now. The men and women clustering in knots at the ends of piers or shoving their ways through the throng had a tougher, more dangerous appearance. Their faces, illuminated by the overhead lamps, bore the weathered look of seafarers. Their features were scarred and menacing, even their smiles hard. They carried short swords hanging from wide belts at their waists and daggers tucked into shoulder straps. The hilts of more knives were visible over the tops of their boots. Although it was possible they were only prepared for trouble, I had the uneasy sense they were looking for it. These, I supposed, weren’t permanent inhabitants of the port town but crews from the anchored ships. I clutched my spear a little more tightly as I walked among them.

  I approached a cluster of these rough-looking sailors up ahead. They were arguing. Although I couldn’t hear what they said, their body language was tense, as if a fight might break out. Passersby slowed to watch but no one looked alarmed. Perhaps they were used to brawls between the sailors from the various ships. There were bound to be all sorts of rivalries and quarrels in a place like this.

  But I didn’t have time to get involved in any trouble. I was about to step around the sailors when one of them threw a sudden punch, knocking his enemy into a stack of crates. Immediately, another man jumped in to defend his fallen friend, then another. A full fight broke out.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  As a sailor with an upraised cudgel in his hand hurtled past me to join the fray, I dodged through the nearest open doorway to avoid the scuffle. I didn�
�t know what sort of place I entered, but a sign over the door named it The Blue Mermaid.

  Instantly, I was enveloped by noise. If I thought the fight outside was loud, the atmosphere I had just entered was ten times more noisy and crowded. After the darkness of the outdoors, it took me a moment to adjust to the harsh glare of the many lanterns lighting the room. The place was packed with tables and people, all of them with tin mugs and sometimes platters of food before them. Many were engaged in games of dice. The sounds of quarreling, singing, and laughter bounced between the four walls, and over it all, hung a haze of smoke and the steady hum of conversation.

  My mouth watered at the delicious smells of food being cooked somewhere out of sight, even as I was choked by the odor of too many unwashed bodies crowded into the close space. It was overwhelming being surrounded by so many off-islanders at once. I was conscious of the strangely low ceiling, the narrowness of the walls. Back home, all our buildings were high-ceilinged and airy, the many windows leaving them open to the breezes of the outdoors. Here I felt smothered, claustrophobic, and acutely aware that if any of these strangers turned violent toward a horned and scaled outsider, I had few escape routes.

  But hunger defeated my caution. The rumbling of my stomach reminded me it had been many days since I had eaten anything but what I could catch for myself from the sea. Worse than that, I had drunk no water since this morning, and my throat was still horribly dry. I navigated through the packed room, climbing around benches and over the bodies of one or two sailors who seemed to have passed out under the tables. I ignored the stares directed my way. I had a more pressing concern now than what these people thought of me.