Dragons of Dark (Upon Dragons Breath Trilogy Book 3)

by Ava Richardson

  “Maybe if I keep busy,” I whispered, telling Bower how I planned to defend my mind against King Enric. “If I tire myself out so I can’t even dream, then…”

  “But you are dreaming, you said so!” Bower frowned. “And it doesn’t do you or anyone any good if you are exhausted the next day at your post!” he said a little sharply.

  Almost spoken like a real king, I thought. “Okay. I know what you mean, this can’t go on forever. But we’ll find a way, I’m sure…”

  “Actually, that’s why I asked Tan to fetch Mother Gorlas here.” Bower indicated the wise woman for the Three-Rivers clan, who was regarding me with shrewd and cold eyes. She looked older even than Vere, with thick grey hair still streaked with black, and a face deeply lined with wrinkles and dotted tattoos. “Maybe there is something in her herbs that can help you…”

  I couldn’t believe it. Did Bower not trust me? Did he really think that I was going to let them all down again, just like I had allowed Ryland to die? “I don’t want some potion or concoction!” I hissed, almost stamping my foot and feeling like a child. “Is that why you asked me to come here? To get me drugged up with some herb or another?” Did he really think this was a preferable option to how I was handling the danger?

  “Saffron,” Bower creased his brow, looking pained and worried at the same time. At that moment I felt a surge of temper at him. How dare Bower Flamma-Torvald-Daris, the boy who I had taught to ride a dragon, suggest I needed help. Bower, who would be nothing without me and my dragon at his side!

  “Saffron, I mean it when I say that I can’t have you falling asleep at your post. You’re our head trainer for every would-be rider here! I can’t have you being a danger to—”

  “You think I’m going to endanger all of us, don’t you? You think I can’t control my own mind!” The thought that he didn’t trust me cut deeper than the thought that I was susceptible to Enric’s mind-magic. We had been through so much already—battling the king in the citadel, fleeing to the Isles, then returning to battle him once again…

  “It’s not your mind I’m worried about, Saffron…” he murmured. “It’s your magic.” He was trying to be as gentle and as reassuring as possible, keeping his voice low and calming, but the words hit me as an insult.

  “If you don’t think I can control myself, then perhaps you shouldn’t rely so much on me,” I snapped, turning on my heel and walking away from the would-be king of the Middle Kingdom, and the only person whom I had ever called my friend.

  2

  Bower, King in Name Only

  “Saffron,” I said in exasperation, as she stalked angrily away from me. “Saffron!” I called, but it was clear she had no intention of either stopping or turning.

  “Lord Bower,” Vere said, his grey eyebrows and mustache quivering with either delight or outrage, “shall I send the warriors to seize her for you?”

  “No,” I said quickly. I didn’t want to think what would happen if Saffron was suddenly surrounded by burly warriors of the tribe, and I wasn’t sure who would win in that brawl, either. “No, leave her be. We’ve known each other for a long time, and she, uh…”

  “She is ill, sire? Tired by the recent fighting, perhaps?” asked Mother Gorlas, her voice as croaky as flints being struck against each other.

  “It sends a bad signal to the rest of the clan,” Vere continued gruffly. “A leader in your position cannot afford any insubordination.”

  “It’s not insubordination, it’s just Saffron,” I snapped. If I had known the role of King would mostly involve arguing and endless talking, then I would have begged the dragons never to reveal it. Life is so much easier for dragons, I thought, as I lifted my eyes to look up into the sky to watch their swoops and circles. Down here at ground level it seemed Vere would harrumph and try to dissuade me, but a hand which felt like paper settled on my elbow and pinched, hard. It was Mother Gorlas at my side, squinting at me like a naughty child.

  “Lord Bower, what was it you were telling us about preparations for the day? Wasn’t there something you needed Chief Vere’s expertize on?” She raised her eyebrows pointedly.

  “It is a pleasure to help the future King of Torvald,” Vere said automatically, in a way which was too quick and too sudden for me to take seriously. Despite how he dressed—the leathers and pelts and the number of daggers he had all around his person—Vere seemed to me more like those sorts of nobles and lords I used to see at the Torvald Law Courts, the ones who would agree with any decision from the king, and were always jockeying for power and influence. He wasn’t as bad as they had been, they had stood by while the king senselessly condemned people to lifelong imprisonment, or worse, but there was something about him I didn’t like all the same.

  “Uh, yes. You’re right, Mother Gorlas. We need to pack up and continue to move deeper into the mountains if we want to stay ahead of—”

  Of the army of Enric, I thought, but stopped short of saying. It really did sound like we were running away, when I preferred to think of it as ‘regrouping’.

  “If we want to find the Stone Tooth clan,” Mother Gorlas supplied smoothly.

  “The who?” I turned my head to question the wise woman at my side.

  “You cannot be serious, old woman,” Vere snapped, and looked at her with an unabashed hatred he knew they were in trouble.

  Great. This is all I need. Two of my closest advisers are already at each other’s throats!

  “The Stone Tooth clan,” Mother Gorlas spoke imperiously, “are clearly the only logical choice for us. We need allies, and they are the closest. They are no friends to Torvald, after all.”

  “They have never been friends to the Three-Rivers clan, either.” Vere turned to me. “Lord Bower, I understand Ryland and the rest of the circle of chiefs put their faith in you, and I understand you have the trust of the great dragons of the world, but you still have a lot to learn of our ways; the peoples and clans of the mountains. There is much you should be wary of before taking such counsel heedlessly…” he said heavily.

  “I never take counsel heedlessly, Chief Vere,” I said, trying to put the same tone of authority in my voice my father once had. To me, the effect sounded petulant or arrogant, and Vere merely inclined his head.

  “As you wish, sire. What were your orders again?” he said.

  This is all such a mess. What do I know about such things? “My orders? We are to continue north, at good speed if we can,” I said, trying to dredge up every lesson I had learned from the books and scrolls from my father’s library. He had tried to prepare me for this eventuality, knowing as he did who I really was and what I represented. I was no longer Bower of Daris, heir to a ruined fortune and crumbling mansion in the citadel. I was Bower of Flamma-Torvald, the union of the two oldest lines of the citadel’s royalty, or at least I had to act like I thought I was.

  “However, Chief Vere,” I went on, “it is true I do not know the ways of these mountains as well as you. So I would ask you to help me by picking the best scouts and working with them to find an easily defensible route through, one that is big enough for the entire clan, yet difficult for the Iron Guard to follow behind us.

  Vere bristled. “That is quite an ask, Lord Bower, but nothing the people of the Three-Rivers can’t accomplish, of course. We are a tough people, those who live in the wilds of the world.”

  “Yes, you clearly are,” I complimented him.

  “And the issue of how we organize these meetings?” Vere asked lightly.

  “What do you mean?” I looked doubtfully between him and Mother Gorlas. The scowl on her face had only deepened as Vere spoke.

  “We lost so many of our leading warriors during the last battle with King Enric, and with them went their power, their influence, and their opinions,” Vere said heavily, nodding along with the two younger chieftains, who appeared to agree with everything he said. “You might call this situation an emergency, Lord Bower. But soon enough there will many other questions we have to answer. How do we p
roperly give respect to the fallen and their grieving families? How many goats are the people of the Three Rivers to give the dragons in order to keep them happy?”

  “You don’t need to keep the dragons happy!” I burst out. The very thought of bribing a dragon, or even trading with one, showed just how deeply Vere and many of the other clans’ people still didn’t understand the dragons: the dragon keeps itself happy. One of the clearest lessons I had learned from my time on Home Island, inside the very mountain-den where Saffron and Jaydra had been raised, was that a dragon was a law unto itself. The only creatures they respected were other dragons, and the only dragon they heeded would be their queen and den-mother—and even they sometimes came to arguments and blows.

  “Thank you for raising these concerns, Chief Vere.” I sighed. “You have given me much to think about. For the moment, uh… I suggest we survive, at least for this morning, and we’ll convene a meeting after midday, if we have gotten far enough.”

  “And at this meeting shall we ask all the clan elders to attend,” Vere shot a venomous glance at Mother Gorlas, “not just whoever is around?”

  “Aye!” murmured the two younger clan chiefs.

  “Yes, of course. Everyone,” I clapped my hands together in an effort to bring this discussion to a close. Only it wasn’t a discussion, not really, I thought. It’s a negotiation. Vere was telling me, in no uncertain terms I would lose my authority and the support of the Three Rivers people unless I appealed directly to the leading warriors, wise people, and clan chiefs. Despite the tireless threat of the Iron Guard tailing us, despite the fact that no Iron Guard golem had to stop, or rest, or eat, or argue, I still had to make my case once again I was worthy to lead them into a war that they had not started.

  Ryland, you were obstinate and stubborn and difficult, but I wish you were here now! I thought desperately as Vere nodded and stalked back into the knot of people at the fire pits, with the two younger clan chiefs following behind. As I watched them disappear into the crowd, I wished Saffron was at my side. She believed in me. Or she had before I had upset her, anyway. It felt to me like my fragile control was slipping through my hands.

  “Sire,” spoke Mother Gorlas, the only person who had remained behind. “You handled yourself well, for a boy.” The old woman bit at a hangnail as she studied me. Her robes were little more than rags and animal pelts, and her hair was festooned with ancient beads and braids long since lost in wire-like tangles. But for all of her lack of eloquence or grace, she had an aura which commanded attention when she spoke. I had never met anyone quite like her, apart from Saffron herself. Back in the citadel, any such faith healer had been rounded up and carted off for treason by the Iron Guard.

  There is something a little dragon-like about her, I thought. Stubborn. Independent. Cunning.

  “Thank you, I guess. But Chief Vere seems only days away from calling for the Three-Rivers clans to leave the dragons,” I said, looking out at the tents, the fires, and the bustle of people starting the business of the day. I needed both the Three Rivers and the dragons in order to have a chance to defeat the Iron Guard and retake Torvald. There was an atmosphere of uncertainty in the air, I was asking people young and old to leave everything they had ever built, after all. I didn’t even want to know what was being said about me and the dragons out of earshot.

  “Yes. But Vere was right, which is a wonder in itself, believe me!” Mother Gorlas cackled. “You may have convinced Ryland and the chiefs you were fit to lead them, but Ryland and half of those old warriors are dead now, and you have to convince the people who are left. It is the tribal way.”

  “But what else can I show them to prove I’m fit to lead?” I said, feeling my heart start to fall inside my chest. I have the blood of Flamma-Torvald. I am the rightful guardian of Dragon Mountain. Who else will the dragons listen to? I thought, before a second later I realized the answer hit me.

  Saffron. Saffron could lead these people if she wanted to. They would respect her fierceness, and the dragons treated her as one of their own. Saffron’s weakness, however, was her Maddox blood, and through that connection the evil king could torment her sleeping moments, could extract information from her, perhaps could even trap her inside her dreams forever, as he had already tried and nearly succeeded once.

  “The Three-Rivers clan are always free. Not you and your blood, not that strange girl, and not your dragons will change that,” Mother Gorlas continued. “Prove to them you can lead, prove it by making peace with the Stone Tooth clan.”

  “The Stone Tooth clan?” I winced. “They don’t sound particularly friendly.”

  “They’re not. They’re fierce, and they live deep in the wilds, hardly ever coming down from the frozen steppes. The Three Rivers people have few dealings with them. They are just as keen to kill those who wander into their territory as they are to trade with them, but they are fierce fighters. There are rumors they even killed your mad king’s iron things.”

  “Not my mad king,” I said instantly. “But really? They killed the Iron Guard? How?”

  Mother Gorlas made a fist and punched it into her other palm. “They know the mountains, and they know the rocks and gorges. They can be quiet and unseen if they want to, and they know how to hunt. They lured a troop of them up onto the high plateau, and then rolled boulders as large as your tent down onto them until they were completely covered.” She cackled in laughter, looking up at the high white heads of the peaks around us. “I wouldn’t be surprised if their scouts aren’t watching us from up there even now.”

  “Really?” I shivered, feeling vaguely creeped out by that suggestion.

  “Of course. So, you have to make peace with them, convince them to join with the Three Rivers and then Vere and the rest will know you are a natural leader.”

  But I’m not, I thought. I can barely decide whether to eat porridge or bread and cheese in the morning.

  “But that is not the only reason why you must seek out the Stone Tooth clan, young king,” Mother Gorlas said.

  “Yes?” What else could there be?

  “You came to us because of your map, correct?” Mother Gorlas said, and I nodded. She meant the map Saffron and I had, showing the location of Salamander outposts and allies. One of the Salamander icons had been over the village of the Three Rivers, but, by the time we arrived, whoever their Salamander contact had been was long since dead or banished.

  “Well, there was a time when the Stone Tooth weren’t as unfriendly with the Three Rivers as they are now. Back then, my mother, the wisewoman before me, used to meet with the Salamander who traveled between our two clans, carrying scrolls and rare herbs.”

  “So, you’re saying the Stone Tooth might still be an outpost of the Salamanders?” I thought of my father, and his work in the city to keep the rebellion alive. Maybe he had known one day I would need to come out here, to the very ends of the realm to unite the clans.

  Mother Gorlas nodded, and I was sold. We would go to the farthest mountains, and unite the clans. But one thing was still bothering me. “And Saffron?” I asked. That was why I’d asked the old woman here, after all.

  “You said she has had trouble sleeping since the battle?” Mother Gorlas looked at me under her dark lashes and I had the suspicion she somehow knew there was more to it. I hadn’t told Mother Gorlas the exact nature of Saffron’s problem, not knowing how far I could trust the old healer.

  “Since a little before the battle, actually,” I said. At least that was truthful.

  “Well, she is young—like you.” Mother Gorlas shrugged. “And a battle, even just the anticipation of it, is a big shock to the mind. But she is tough. With rest, she will get better.”

  “That’s just it, actually. She’s too distressed to rest….” I said. “Bad dreams…”

  “Hmph. I daresay, I can give her herbs to help her sleep, but they will make her drowsy. I can give her herbs to kill all dreams entirely, but she may find she wants to dream.”

  “Believe me, I don
’t think anyone wants to have the sorts of dreams Saffron has.” I had brief images of the gigantic face of King Enric, leering and monstrous as it grew nearer and nearer, its breath like a gale as we had been struck by the force of the evil sorcerer’s will.

  Mother Gorlas narrowed her eyes at me, as if she knew I wasn’t telling her everything. “If you can convince her, I have an herb that will stop her dreaming. But all medicines have a cost. She may not want to pay it.”

  “Anything,” I said. “Although I don’t have any money, I’ll pay anything—”

  “Not that kind of cost, but no matter. Saffron might not want help from me anyway.” Mother Gorlas smiled in a brittle manner. “But I will see what stocks I have.”

  “Thank you,” But what would the cost be? I thought to ask, but shook my head. The possibility of keeping Saffron safe was worth any price. Any price at all.

  “Now, if you will excuse me, Lord Bower, I must go and help pack up my dwindling supplies.”

  “Of course, Mother Gorlas, of course. We all need to be making a move, and as soon as possible. But one more thing—the Stone Tooth clan? How would I contact them?” I asked, wondering why I felt even more at a loss than I had before.

  “Oh, they’ll make themselves known, I’m sure,” she said mysteriously, turning to walk away, leaving me, the rightful boy-king of the Middle Kingdom, to my flagon of water and stale bread.

  3

  Saffron, the Bridge Between

  My arms, legs, and back were aching and tired when I finally climbed high up the craggy rocks above the encampment to where Ysix was catching the early sun’s warmth and holding court with some of her brood. As soon as I stepped between the gigantic shapes of the other dragons, I felt calmer and more rested than I had in days.