Dragons of Kings (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 2)

by Ava Richardson

  Putting back the fine silks, I repacked the chest. But I kept the leather jerkin and breeches. I pulled them on over my skins, letting my skin tunic and breeches act like undergarments. The green jerkin and breeches hung a little loose, but I liked the feel of them.

  Oddly, they made me feel different somehow, more like myself—but like a self I had not even known existed.

  Smoothing the leather, I knew I had not been forgotten.

  From upstairs, Bower’s voice echoed down to me. “Saffron, I think I found something!”

  I ran up the stone steps and found Bower had righted one of the tables. He stood bent over it, his back to the spot where the Hermit had died. I avoided that spot, too. Sunlight streamed into the room through one of the narrow windows, and I noticed a hole in the wall where there had not been one before.

  “What?” I asked, coming up to Bower’s side. He glanced twice at my new, dark green jerkin but said nothing about it. Instead, he waved at the hole where he must have removed a stone to reveal the space. “Your hermit had a hiding place. Several actually. The other three were empty, but I kept thinking about how I’d had hiding spots in my library back in Torvald.” Bower stopped and made a face as if remembering something sad. I didn’t really understand why books mattered so much to him, but they did. He shook his head, his dark brown hair lank and falling into his eyes now that it had gotten so long. He pushed it back and pointed to paper spread out on the table.

  It looked as if whatever Bower had found was both old and also missing chunks. I could see heavy black lines drawn on the paper, marking mountains and hills, marshes, lakes and even the forests.

  Leaning over his shoulder, I glimpsed red lines here and there. These lines almost looked like dragon wings and a curl of flame. “We saw that mark in your city,” I told Bower, pointing at it.

  “Yes…it’s the mark of the Salamanders. They’re a group that defies the king’s orders. They’re—”

  “Pirates? Thieves?” I asked.

  Bower grimaced. “Yes and not exactly. They’re like us—people who dislike the king’s harsh rules and his unjust laws. They helped me escape the citadel the first time I left. And I think…I think my father was working with the Salamanders to fight back against King Enric.”

  Against the Maddox clan.

  A shiver chased down my back. Why did my family have to be both powerful—and so hateful?

  “Are they dragon-friends?” I asked. “Do they even believe in dragons? Is that why they use the symbol of dragon fire and wings?”

  “They might be, but you have to remember that all the Maddox kings, from Hacon to Enric, have worked hard to make everyone think dragons are some kind of monsters from tales meant to frighten children. Most people don’t really believe in them. But the Salamanders are at least trying to keep the old stories in memory—I think they’re the reason my father collected the forbidden stories about dragons. That, however, is not as important as this.” Bower waved a hand at the paper on the table. “This map proves your hermit—whoever he was—was connected to the Salamanders, or at least knew about them and knew where they could be found. It really is too bad we didn’t have more time to talk with him about this.”

  Bower’s words stung. It was partly my fault the Hermit was dead—if I had gone to him right away things may have been different. I turned away from Bower and his map. “Well, we didn’t have time with him. And what good does this map do us? It’s just scribbles on paper. It’s like those drawings on the cliff—it’s all about the past.”

  “And that is just what is going to make the future!” Bower’s eyes brightened. He walked over to the wall with the hole showing and pulled out a fat book. He carried it back to the table and opened it as carefully as if handling a fragile leaf. “This is the Compendium Atlas. I’ve only seen one other, and never one like this which seems to have been annotated by hand—by your hermit, I think.”

  “Will you stop calling him mine. He just lived near Den Mountain. And what’s an atlas?”

  Bower pulled in a breath, then said, “A compendium is a list of things, an atlas offers up maps of places people have explored. This does far more…just listen.”

  He turned the page and started to read.

  “‘It was my intent to tread the length of the Dragon’s Spine Mountains all the way from their southerly end to whatever icy vastness held in the grim north…’ And look, here’s the map.” He pointed to a drawing of mountains. “There’s King’s Pass marked and Valley of Cracked Willows, and the spot where three rivers converge—the Dangse, the Venge and the Oluk come together in one mighty torrent, cutting off this land of high meadows from the rest of the mountains.” He grinned at me. “Do you see?”

  Frowning, I shrugged. “I don’t see anything but a book and papers you call maps.”

  Bower rolled his eyes and started to tap his fingers on the table. “Three rivers—the Three-Rivers clans. Your…the old man said that’s where we should head. That we’ll find help there.” He pointed again to the spot on the page where three thin blue lines swirled through the mountains to come together.

  I looked from Bower’s face, which was almost glowing red, to the map and back again. “Do you know what you’re saying. We’re supposed to travel far to the north, across the land Enric holds, with him hunting for us, to see if there is a group of people who might want to help, and all on the say of an old man who might have been sane or might not?”

  Bower put a hand on the book—his Compendium Atlas. “Well…yes. Or do you have a better idea? I mean, do you want to stay here and wait for Enric’s spies to come back? Or for Enric to show up with his Iron Guard?” He waved at the map. “We have this—we know where we need to get to. And Enric won’t know where we’ve gone.”

  I glanced over to the dark stain on the floor, and then to the window. The sun had come up and lightened the sea. The surf beat a soft, steady rhythm against the rock and the tower’s foundation.

  Bower was right—we could not stay. Enric’s spies would take word to him of what they had found. Unless we find them and stop them.

  But how could we do that? They were out in the ocean, and even a dragon would have a hard time finding them.

  Jaydra’s thoughts touched my mind as she woke. You have dragon kin to help you. Always.

  She was right. But the den must be warned about what had happened. I glanced at Bower and nodded. “First, we must speak to Zenema.” I smoothed my new leather jerkin. I was about to take a step as if off a cliff, and I knew my life would change. Perhaps never to be the same again. Pushing back my shoulders, I dropped my hands to my side and told Bower, “We need to formally ask for her aid and ask if any dragons will fly and fight with us.”

  4

  The Council of Dragons

  Standing next to Saffron at the edge of the main cavern, I decided I’d never seen so many dragons. I didn’t even know so many lived within the Western Isles.

  The Council of Dragons, Zenema had called it.

  Shafts of brilliant sunlight streamed in down the tunnels of Den Mountain. The main cavern looked more like a cathedral now, with the brilliant hues of the dragons. Everywhere I looked I saw dragons. The predominant colors seemed to be the sea blues, with a few greens, but I spotted three whites and five with mottled orange scales. Sadly, none of the dragons seemed to be the crimson reds I had seen pictured in the old books.

  The younger dragons all chose perches on rock outcroppings within the chamber, and sat flicking their long, spiked tails, staring down with inquisitive eyes. The older dragons, however, seemed content to stretch out on their sides.

  If I hadn’t been living with dragons for a time, I would have been terrified to face so many, for a few of the dragons seemed to stare at me with a predatory hunger. Or maybe that was just amazement that a foolish human would be at the Council of Dragons.

  Nudging Saffron with one elbow, I told her, “I hadn’t expected so many.” Trying to act as if I consorted with dragons every day, I le
aned against the nearest wall. Saffron took up a position just in front of me. She was silhouetted against the bright sky at the end of a tunnel and stood so still that for a second I thought she might not have heard me.

  But she answered in a low voice, “Neither did I. Zenema’s called them from all over the Western Isles.”

  I thought I heard a tremor in her voice, but I didn’t know if that was excitement or maybe a little fear. My mouth was dry and my heart pounding. I had no idea how I was supposed to behave.

  When we’d told Zenema about the Hermit’s death, she had emitted a long, mournful call that seemed to echo over the island. I’d wondered if maybe the Hermit had been a dragon-friend to Zenema in the same way that Saffron was to Jaydra. Zenema had listened to Saffron, and then said we must call the Council of Dragons.

  The council met exactly one day later. Dragons had been arriving all through the night and day. The cavern smelled like smoke, dragon, and a little bit like fish, which left me hoping most of the dragons had eaten before coming to the council.

  Suddenly, a roar and a skittering of claws on stone went up in the cavern. I jumped and almost wanted to duck down the nearest tunnel, for it seemed certain to me the dragons were thinking of me as a dessert.

  “It’s Oloxia.” Saffron nodded toward what looked to be an ancient white dragon, bigger even than Zenema, who had entered the cavern from another tunnel and was hissing and snapping at other dragons to get out of his way. And they did. “Stay far from him,” Saffron said. “He’s more reptile than dragon these days.”

  She didn’t have to warn me. Oloxia swung opaque eyes in my direction and snuffled the air as if he could smell better than he could see. His scales seemed dull with age and his bulk was massive—it amazed me he could still fly. His tongue lashed out, lapping at his mouth. I sensed that if he had the chance, he would snap me up as a tasty treat—and maybe Saffron, too. One of the smaller, green dragons hissed at Oloxia. The ancient dragon swung around, lashed out with a spurt of flame and a fast swipe of a front leg, pinning the smaller green dragon’s wing to the cavern floor.

  The green dragon started to struggle and two other small dragons swept down next to him. I feared there would be blood, but a roar shook the cavern and a word echoed in my mind.

  Stop!

  Zenema swooped down and into the cavern, scattering the younger dragons from their perches, including Jaydra, who chirruped and settled again next to Saffron. Zenema landed in the middle of the cavern and lifted her head high above the other dragons.

  The dragons all seemed to give way to her, except old Oloxia who huffed out a smoky breath, but released the younger green dragon who darted away with his friends.

  I glanced around. I didn’t know how many of these dragons were Zenema’s kin—her children even, such as Jaydra. But it was plain Zenema ruled Den Mountain and held great sway with all the other dragons. And not just because of her size or age. Her stare swept the cavern and she held each dragon’s gaze, intelligence and power in eyes that seemed to shift color and swirl with light.

  “A den-mother is a great leader among dragons,” Saffron whispered to me. “Even though there might be more than a few clutches of eggs from different mothers, there is still only one who rules, usually the oldest mother. Zenema is head of the whole family.”

  I nodded. I had wondered why Zenema seemed to quite literally rule the roost.

  “The den-mother is like a queen. That one there?” Saffron nodded to a brilliantly blue-green dragon with silver-flecked eyes and a long neck. “That’s Ysix. She’s den-mother to another brood on another island, but she’s also one of Zenema’s daughters.”

  I edged closer to Saffron. “That makes Zenema an empress—a queen over other queens.”

  Saffron smiled. “You know, maybe you really are a dragon-friend. With words like that, you might even charm Zenema.”

  My face heated. I wasn’t sure I could do any such thing. Next to these mighty creatures, I was feeling small and all too vulnerable.

  Saffron didn’t seem to notice, but told me, “Every now and again one of Zenema’s daughters will have a clutch of eggs of her own. But, to become den-mother, she must go off first and find her own cavern, on her own island like Ysix did. And a lot of the dragons prefer staying under the protection of a more powerful dragon.”

  Zenema’s thoughts rang inside my head again, so powerful that it was almost like the blare of trumpets. Family and blood kin, this is the third council I have called and the first for many of you.

  Some of dragons let out chirrups and clicks—I didn’t know if they were agreeing with Zenema or not, but Saffron didn’t seem worried.

  Zenema’s thoughts softened a little in my mind.

  A darkness once again rises across the land, and it reaches for us. We of the West thought our dens to be safe. We lived as wild dragons, always have, but without savagery. We grew strong—the oceans have been good to us!

  A loud hissing rose up from some of the younger dragons. Saffron grinned, and I asked, “What was that? What did they say?”

  “Just the younger dragons being silly, saying it’s the fish that’s been so very good.” She shrugged.

  I thought of how Jaydra always wanted to go hunt the oily ocean fish, but Zenema’s thoughts echoed in my mind again.

  But all things are joined at their center, as the old lore says. The darkness comes for us. It will come to try and put an end to us as it did so very long ago. For we are its enemy. We are the spark of life, the fire in the heart, the ray of light that shines even in the night.

  I had never known a dragon could be so poetic. It almost seemed as if this might be something spiritual, but did dragons have a religion?

  One of the other dragons hissed and screeched, and I looked to Saffron for a translation. She shook her head and turned to look up at Zenema, so I did as well.

  I can promise you, in all my days and across three councils, as there is light, there is dark. As there are dragons, there is the shadow that seeks to extinguish them. We must decide not only our own fate, but that of others.

  Hissing and chirps rose up from the dragons—mostly hisses from the older dragons and chirps from the younger ones. Even to someone such as myself who couldn’t speak dragon, it was obvious that the dragons were arguing about how to deal with the threat that was going to come.

  I imagined black war ships bearing Enric’s colors of royal purple and gold, staffed with the unflinching, mechanical Iron Guard, and aided with the king’s strange sorcery—could anything defeat such a fleet?

  But these were dragons! I had read stories of dragons doing amazing things. However, the king’s powers were daunting—Saffron and I had barely been able to escape the king and keep him from destroying his own city, all for the sake of wiping out any who opposed him.

  Glancing around, I wondered how many of these dragons even knew how to fight?

  Zenema’s thoughts cut through the noise, which quieted as her thoughts seemed to reach not just me but every dragon as well.

  Were it my choice alone, I would say we should give up on the humans who have brought our race so much suffering.

  Another chorus of hisses and wing-beats answered her, and then Zenema rose up above the flurry of dragons.

  Were this a generation ago, I would suggest we fly even further west and seek what new lands we might find. Or fly south until we leave the humans to their own petty cruelties. But we have found there are humans who still remember us, and who are still good and true dragon-friends. In them, there is hope the world might remember what humans and dragons were once. And even more importantly I see ahead and see that we cannot run. For in running, does not the prey learn that the predator always runs faster? And I will be no one’s prey.

  Old Oloxia let out a burst of what sounded to me like angry hissing. Zenema shook her head and spread her wings and the noise quieted.

  I hear your arguments. Life has been better, living wild. But are we dragons to run when chased? Once we
had no choice. We had to flee or face destruction. But our numbers are vast now. Many of you cannot recall how life was in the times before, but there was a time when humans and dragons lived and worked together. There was a time when humans brought us food and helped make our homes. There was a time when the dragons did not die of scale-rot, or flame cough or any other illness because humans would bring healers and together we lived better lives. If humans remember us, is it not time for us to remember ourselves? Let us remember our past—and look to our future. Step forward, adopted den-daughter of mine, Saffron Maddox, and dragon-friend, Bower of Torvald!”

  I gulped and straightened, my heart thudding into my chest. Glancing at Saffron, I saw she was looking pale, her freckles standing out. But she held my stare and gave a small nod. She stepped into the center of the cavern, into the midst of the dragons. I could not fail her now.

  Compelled by the moment, I followed Saffron only to be surrounded by what seemed to me to be suspicious, skeptical and hungry-looking dragons.

  Saffron lifted her hands over her head.

  The air around us seemed almost unbearably hot. Sweat trickled down my back and beaded on my forehead. The sandy ground in the cavern gave under my boots and the rustlings of dragon wings seemed to fill the cavern for a moment.

  Saffron looked around her much as Zenema had. She seemed to be trying to look at as many of the dragons as she could, turning to include not just Zenema and Ysix, but also the smaller dragons and even old Oloxia, who lay at the back of the cavern now.

  There was something about the deeply textured, inquisitive eyes that always made me think dragons could read my darkest secrets.

  Saffron lowered her hands and silence fell.

  Instead of thinking her words, Saffron spoke to the dragons. “Many of you have known me for my most of my life. I am den-sister to Jaydra, and I have flown, hunted, ate and slept alongside you. For sharing your home with me, I can only say thank you. You have shown me how wise and gracious dragons can be and taught me better than any human family could.” She bowed her head and put a hand to her chest.