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

by Ava Richardson

  ‘A place the local people call the Three Rivers, where the Dangse, the Venge and the Oluk come together in one mighty torrent, with alpine meadows lush and with good grass, and wooded ravines that lead up into the mountains...’

  The southernmost river on the map had to be the Dangse, and I wondered if that was the river we were following. I paused and thought I could hear the river to our left, the water making a soft babbling as it fell over rocks. Looking around, I realized I’d lost sight of Saffron, so I hurried to catch up with her.

  Saffron had stopped at a slight rise in the path, and I hoped from there we might have a view of where we were.

  Pulling out the map, I hurried to Saffron’s side, trying to trace where we might be if it really was the Dangse we followed. “I think I might know where we are,” I told Saffron. “It looks as if the Dangse opens into the lake we left, so that means we’re here.” Holding the map in front of Saffron I tried to point to where we must be.

  Voice low and urgent, Saffron just said my name in a tone that made me look up.

  I stared straight at a knocked arrow and a bow held by a woman clad in patchwork leathers. Brown and ochre paints smeared her face, making her blend with the woods around us.

  “Oh,” I said and blinked twice.

  The woman gave me a grim smile. “Oh indeed.”

  Two more women stepped from the trees, blocking our path. Each held a bow, and all three had black hair pulled back into long braids.

  Saffron told them, “You should be warned—I have a dragon with me.”

  The three women looked very alike, but the tallest one stepped forward. “So do we.”

  I elbowed my way past Saffron, the map rustling in my hands. “You have dragons? But that’s impossible! There are no dragons in Middle Kingdom. Everyone knows that.”

  The woman’s mouth curved. She gestured and the woman with the knocked arrow lowered her bow. However, she did not remove her arrow from the bowstring. The tallest woman turned back to us. “You two have a lot to learn.”

  “Do we now?” Saffron put her hand back on her knife hilt, and from behind us, Jaydra rumbled. I didn’t want Saffron’s quick temper—or Jaydra’s—getting us shot full of arrows. Holding up one hand and struggling to hang onto my map with the other, I said, “We have no wish to fight or spill blood.”

  Saffron narrowed her eyes, her mouth pulled down, but Jaydra quieted. I wondered what Saffron had said or thought to Jaydra.

  Before I could ask, the wind caught at the map, pulling it from my hand. It fluttered to the ground and the woman with the bow and the arrow still strung tight stamped a booted foot down on it. She glanced at it and glanced back, her eyes going wide, then said, “Nerys? Look.” She waved with one hand at the map.

  Nerys—the tall woman—glanced at the map, and then looked from me to Saffron and back again. “How do you know this symbol?” She pointed to the fire and wings drawn onto the map.

  “The fire within,” I said breathlessly. “Are you with the Salamanders? The rebels who fight the king? That’s who we seek.”

  9

  A True Dragon Friend

  “Come,” Nerys said. She turned and slipped off the main path and onto another one that twisted off to the left. The two other women followed her. Bower glanced at me, shrugged and followed after them.

  I didn’t like it. Not one bit. Neither did Jaydra, but I thought to her that now was not yet time to fight. Bower seemed to think these might be the people we were seeking—the Three-Rivers clan. I wasn’t convinced. These three women reminded me too much of the villagers back on the island—too ready to draw a weapon first and talk after the fight. How could they claim to have a dragon or know about dragons if they didn’t seem to think anything of facing a dragon in battle??

  Give Jaydra a sign and Jaydra will tear out each of their hearts, crunch their bones and set fire to their forests. Jaydra sent images to me of doing just that.

  Wait, my sister. This is Bower’s kingdom more so than ours. And he was good at talking to the villagers. We have to learn if these people are the ones we must find.

  And if they are true dragon-friends. Jaydra snorted out a fiery breath that all must have been able to smell.

  I could tell she didn’t believe these women were dragon-friends. But Bower seemed to want to at least talk to them. And I had to admit he’d managed to get them to ease their guard and unstring their knocked arrows. He had a way of getting people to like him somehow. Was that the mark of a good king? Didn’t a leader have to know how to fight?

  Ahead of me, Bower hurried to catch up with the Nerys and the other women and asked her, “So, you have dragons you say? How many? What colors? I have a theory that the dragons from Torvald and the Dragon Academy that once existed there fled west, but it would be amazing to think some might have gone north.”

  “Dragon Academy?” Nerys glanced at him over her shoulder, her black eyebrows low and tight. “The old monastery you mean?”

  “You know of it?” Bower jogged a little faster to catch up with her long stride. “How do you know of it? Did your people come here from Torvald originally?”

  “The stone city?” Nerys shook her head. “No, I was born in meadows of the north as was my mother and my mother’s mother. I’m Nerys, daughter of Nurita, who was daughter of Niall. My mothers have lived in the mountain meadows for as far back as memory goes, or at least we lived there until the metal men came to burn our villages. We fled deeper into the mountains and we fight back when we can, but we have never defeated the metal men.”

  “The Iron Guard,” Bower said. “That is what we call them. They are the king’s creation—some sort of magic makes them move and act.”

  Nerys nodded. “Others have joined us. Refugees fleeing the cities and a few old warriors. Some of them drew that sign you have on your map—the one of the flame and wings. They said we would one day need dragons and helped us capture some.”

  “Capture dragons?” I muttered. Reaching out, I snagged Bower’s tunic hem and made him slow down and drop back with me. “What is she talking about? I thought you said the Salamanders are dragon-friends, but she doesn’t sound a friend at all.”

  He lowered his voice and said, “She says others had the symbol of the Salamanders, so I think these women may be descendants of the old northern tribes.” He hurried forward, and I glanced back to see Jaydra was now swimming in the river.

  Our path kept us near the rocky banks. The path turned and headed uphill. The trees started thinning as we progressed to rockier territory. Soon, everyone except Jaydra had to scramble over boulders as we struggled along the path.

  Jaydra leave river—wild currents not good for fishing or swimming.

  Then fly above us, sister, that way you can swoop down if you have to, I counseled her. Jaydra took to the air, leaving us on the ground, the river water turning white, rough and roaring.

  “That must be the Venge,” Bower said, pointing to the river.

  Nerys stopped near the top of a rocky rise. Her two friends went ahead of her. Bower scrambled up onto the boulder and I followed him.

  Looking down, I could see an impressive gorge now where three rivers met—one streaming down from a waterfall, one wide and slow, and the one we followed cut out from this joining. The path wound down to the river and led to a rickety, wooden bridge that crossed the rough waters below. Once across the river, we’d be in a wide and long meadow that stood between the three rivers.

  “Are you sure that bridge will hold?” I asked Nerys.

  She shrugged, and then Jaydra circled overhead, casting a shadow over us. Nerys glanced up, raised her bow and knocked an arrow.

  Stepping forward, I knocked her bow down. “You should know an arrow will do little against a dragon’s scales.”

  Nerys narrowed her eyes but she did not lift her bow again. “Depends on where your arrow strikes. Our dragons are dark, their scales black or a very deep blue. So that is your dragon?”

  “Mine? Dragons d
on’t—”

  “You ride wild dragons?” Bower said, interrupting. He turned to me. “The black dragon of the North Mountains is supposed to be the fiercest of all. It’s said to be a little smaller than Jaydra, with spikes on their tail, and barely civilized.”

  I glanced at him and then turned back to face Nerys. “Jaydra is with me. But she is not mine.”

  “Well, see to it she keeps her distance.” Nerys unknocked her arrow and returned it to her quiver. She followed the other two women down to the wooden bridge, glancing back to shout at Bower, “And as for riding a dragon, who would be fool enough to try such a thing?”

  Bower glanced at me, his expression worried, but he followed Nerys down to the bridge. I noted how Nerys held to the ropes that acted as handholds on either side of the bridge. The ropes creaked and the bridge swayed as she crossed. The other two women crossed as well, one at a time.

  “How could the Iron Guard get across this?” Bower muttered.

  I glanced at the deep waters below us—the river was not so fast here, but the smooth surface might hide fast currents. “Maybe they just walk through the water. I’ll go first—you follow me.”

  The wood of the bridge was slick with water splashed up by the river. I took my time crossing. The bridge and the wood creaked like a dying animal. Several of the boards looked rotted to me and I stepped over them. This bridge was as much a death trap for the unwary as anything.

  When I reached the other side, Nerys gave me a grudging nod, as if she approved of me. I turned to find Bower already on the bridge and crossing.

  “Watch the boards,” I called out.

  He nodded, and clung to the rope handholds, his knuckles almost white. For a moment, I thought he would cross safely, but as he neared the last quarter of the way, a board cracked and split. Bower’s foot slipped through the wood and he clung to the rope, staring down at the fall to the water below.

  I started to cross back to where he was, but Nerys grabbed my shoulder and held me back, calling out, “Too much weight on the bridge and it will collapse. It is made for one person at a time.”

  On the bridge, Bower had frozen, his booted foot dangling through the gap in the boards. Magic tingled in my fingertips and welled up in my chest. But I feared releasing it. Perhaps I could use it to fly him across the river, but what if the power burst out too strong and took out the bridge completely? I could end up sending Bower plummeting into the river below? But another could help.

  Jaydra?

  Bower in trouble—Jaydra sees.

  With a shriek, Jaydra swooped down, claws extended. She snatched Bower up by his shoulders, as if he was a tasty, large fish. Beating her immense wings, she soared up and then deposited Bower not far from me.

  Thank you, sister.

  “Th-thank you, Jaydra!” Bower said, gasping for breath, his face red and his voice shaking a little.

  “By the mountains!” With an arrow again knocked, Nerys looked from Jaydra to Bower. She’d hunched down as if fearing Jaydra would grasp her next, but now she straightened and said, “Your dragon—didn’t fly off to eat him—why not?”

  I faced Nerys. “No dragon would ever take advantage of a friend in need. And no dragon would ever eat a friend.” Hands on my hips, I stared at her. “You might as well suggest that we try to cook Jaydra for our supper tonight!”

  She could try, Jaydra thought to me as she soared back up into the sky. Heading over to Bower, I asked him, “You well?” He nodded, and I lowered my voice and said, “I am starting to get an uncomfortable feeling about the people of the three rivers if that’s who they are.”

  Bower straightened and shook his head. “Maybe…maybe this isn’t the right clan.”

  I gave a rude snort. So far I didn’t think much of these people.

  Nerys turned and with the other two women strode down into the meadowlands. A narrow path wound through grass as tall as our hips, and then the path opened and I glimpsed smoke from a settlement. Clusters of small huts dotted the meadow, with perhaps two dozen or so huts in total. I heard the bleating of goats and the lowing of cattle, and all too soon I could smell the smoke and the scent of people and animals.

  But no dragons in the sky.

  Birds soared overhead, but why didn’t dragons swoop from the caves in the mountainsides that I could see. Were there even any dragons here?

  Jaydra can smell dragon, my den-sister informed me. But as if very far away. They are not like island dragons. Jaydra’s hisses carried to me from overhead, a sign she was distressed at what she was uncovering.

  Ahead of us, Nerys waved an arm and called out, “Welcome to the Three-River Clan,”

  So much for these people being the wrong ones—they were indeed the clan the Hermit had said we should find. I was starting to think perhaps the Hermit had not been in his right mind when he’d said such a thing. He’d been dying at the time, and perhaps had mistakenly sent us to the wrong place.

  Bower, however, started to smile and the tension eased from his shoulders. I could only guess that to him just the sight of people living far from the rule of Enric and his Iron Guard was enough to be an inspiration.

  Glancing around, I kept wondering where their dragons lived? If they were dragon-friends, why keep their dragons so far from their homes?

  Sending my worried thoughts to Jaydra, I told her, Stay near, but not too near. And stay on alert.

  Jaydra sent back her own worries to me and circled overhead.

  The meadow path led into the center of the settlement. Seen up close, I saw the huts were made of round, gray stones with straw-thatched roofs. In front of each house a banner flew marked with what seemed to be the symbol of the clan, three blue lines under a red flame.

  Bower slowed his stride enough to walk closer to me and said, “Judging by the moss on those stone walls, on the north side, this settlement’s been here a goodly time, for a couple of decades at the least.”

  “How is that useful?” I muttered.

  He lifted a hand and said, “It means they’ve evaded Enric’s notice for a good time.”

  I shook my head. “Evading is not enough—and I do not see enough fighters here.” Which was true. Children, old men, old women and then a few women and men who looked able to pull a bow watched us as we came into the settlement. People came out of the huts with wary but curious expressions. It seemed to me that this clan had only a dozen fighters. The people seemed thin, as well, as if they had little to eat. The children all offered up clean, round faces, but everyone wore what looked like patchwork clothing—leather and cloth stitched and mended so many times it was now a mix of colors and materials. Women and men all wore their hair long and braided.

  A horn blast echoed from the mountains that sheltered the rivers and the meadows on two sides. Nerys raised her head and let out an ululating cry that seemed to be a reply to the horn. Stopping in the center of the settlement, she said, “Ryland comes.”

  “Is he your chief?” I asked.

  Nerys didn’t bother to answer. I gave Bower a sour look—I liked this Nerys less and less. But I thought the feeling mutual, for she seemed to dislike me as well.

  The sound of galloping hoof beats came to me, and I looked around, trying to find the source. A group of five riders headed to the settlement, riding what looked to be tough little mountain ponies. They wore the same patchwork clothing as everyone here, but with leather jerkins studded with metal, and sunlight flashed off the metal tips of long spears.

  Turning to Bower, Nerys told him, “Ryland is our war chief.” The ponies slowed as they came into the settlement, their hides steaming. A young man in his twenties led the group. He pulled his pony to a halt and vaulted off, landing on his feet in a graceful and practiced move. His braided hair gleamed in the light like burnished copper. Deep green eyes regarded us with a steady gaze. Strong cheekbones gave him a rough look, and his beard had been braided with bands of silver and gold. He looked first at Bower, seemed to dismiss and turned to face me.


  His gaze seemed to hold a challenge, but I recognized a similar soul to myself for there was a touch of the wild in his eyes, as if he was someone who would never do well in a city or even in the confines of a building.

  “I am Ryland,” he said, looking straight at me. His eyes seemed to warm, and a wave of heat swept through me.

  From above, Jaydra sent me a puzzled alarm, asking with her thoughts, Saffron well?

  Not now. I cannot explain. And I couldn’t. What was wrong with me? Why did I suddenly feel both hot and cold and as stupid as if a rock had struck my chest?

  Glancing up, Ryland shielded his eyes with one hand against the sun’s glare and said, “Ah, she is a magnificent beast. With her size, I’ll wager she could take down a Grim Bear.”

  The heat vanished from my body. Annoyed, I crossed my arms over my chest. “Jaydra is no beast. You speak of my den-sister.”

  His hand falling to his side, Ryland looked at me as if I had sprouted dragon horns and wings. “You are close to your companion animal.”

  Jaydra not just an animal! Jaydra gave a roar and swooped down over the settlement. Cows bellowed and goats bleated and even a few children started to cry.

  “War Chief,” Nerys said her voice tense. “That beast overhead is frightening the flocks.”

  Glancing up, I saw Jaydra swoop down again and then angle up and fly over the meadow settlement in a huge loop. Jaydra seemed delighted by the frightened animals. Even one of the mountain ponies shied and gave a low whinny.

  Ryland frowned, and I told him, “Jaydra is just playing. If she meant harm, she could have snatched up her choice of cow or goat, one in each claw.”

  That earned me even more frowns, so I thought to Jaydra, Calm now, den-sister. We hope to make these people our friends. Please stop chasing their livestock.

  What good are friends if they will not share food? Jaydra gave another roar, but she circled down to where we stood and hovered over the settlement. That left the mountain ponies pulling to get away.