The Red Dragon Girl (Firethorn Chronicles Book 3)

by Lea Doué

  “What do you have to do with any of this?” Mel said. She couldn’t keep the accusation out of her tone.

  The girl glanced back. “Fewer questions. More escaping.”

  Right. She probably would have told herself to shut up, too, if their roles were reversed. Orin buckled her belt of daggers around her waist.

  “What’s this for?” she asked.

  His voice cracked as he spoke. “Maybe the dragon will choke on it and cough you back up.”

  “Very funny.”

  He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her firmly on the forehead. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  Her eyes watered in response, his words as painful as a punch in the gut. What could he do? He was in as much danger as she was, if not more. The dragon would go after the loose bait first and then come for her. She couldn’t watch that.

  “There’s nothing you can do. You have to go.”

  “Not likely,” he said with a growl and pulled back. He drew a thin metal object out of his pocket: a lock pick. “Hold still.”

  “I had no idea you could pick locks. You’re a man of many talents.”

  He gave a lopsided grin as he focused on the first shackle. “That I am.”

  Vanda kept a wary eye on the woods. “You need to hurry.”

  The dragon screeched, a far different sound than any Mel had heard so far. A cry of freedom.

  Chapter Four

  Mel’s skin prickled at the dragon’s cry, and she wished the moon would hide itself so she wouldn’t have to witness what would come next.

  The razor-tail appeared within moments, creeping like a black shadow along the ground, snarling, its deadly tail swishing back and forth, cutting down blades of grass. It advanced slowly, wings half unfurled, eyes trained on the three vulnerable humans. A broken chain dangled from a metal band around its neck. It had been tricked by the villagers and bound against its will, just as she had.

  The lock clicked, and the shackle loosened around her wrist. Orin immediately turned his attention to the second one.

  The dragon paused and glanced around as if wondering for the first time where its pack had gone. Vanda took aim. The bow twanged, but the arrow landed short of its mark. She growled, but before the dragon could respond, she released another arrow, which ripped through its wing.

  Roaring and screeching filled the clearing all at once. Howling, the dragon extended both wings and flapped furiously as if to take flight. Vanda loosed another arrow, embedding it in the soft flesh at the base of the injured wing and making it impossible for the dragon to fold it. Or to fly.

  The dragon rushed at them, eyes fixed on Vanda, and closed the distance alarmingly fast. She ran across the clearing, apparently trying to lead it away, but it turned its attention to Orin. She stopped and shot again, this time hitting it squarely in the shoulder.

  That got its attention.

  As it swerved away from them, its tail arced around towards Orin. He didn’t see it.

  “Watch out!” Mel grabbed hold of the chains in both hands, raised up her feet, and kicked him out of the way. He landed flat in the grass, and the dragon’s sharp tail passed over his back.

  “Orin?” He didn’t move. “Orin!” He must have hit his head on a rock.

  The remaining shackle clicked open. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she flexed her fingers. How? He must have gotten it unlocked just before he fell. She knelt next to him and shook his shoulders. “You’ve got to get up. Please, get up.”

  Vanda had almost reached the edge of the woods. Perhaps if she could climb a tree, now that her pursuer’s wing was useless, she might stand a chance.

  Grabbing a couple of throwing daggers, Mel stood guard over Orin, waiting for the dragon to return.

  “Hurry up!” Vanda screamed.

  Hurry up and do what? Mel’s daggers were useless at this distance.

  Something blotted out the moonlight for a moment, and the razor-tail stopped in its tracks. A massive form swooped down and landed with a gust of air, its wingspan filling almost a quarter of the clearing.

  A black dragon of Mazereon. What was it doing so far from the mountains?

  Confused relief swept through her. Black dragons were not man eaters, although they would gladly steal a horse now and then. This one apparently had a taste for razor-tails.

  The razor-tail roared fearlessly at the new arrival, at least a hundred times its size. The black dragon responded with a ground-shaking bellow that left her ears ringing. She shook her head and then gasped and blinked rapidly when a man, his dark skin and hair making him appear to be a shadow, slid from its back. People didn’t fly on dragons.

  People didn’t kidnap princesses and tie them to poles, either. What did she know anymore?

  As the dragon rider ran towards her, the razor-tail screeched in anger and whipped around to face Vanda, another arrow planted in its side. The black dragon growled, and the razor-tail hissed and backed up parallel to both its foes, opening a path for Vanda to rejoin them. She lunged forward just as the black dragon swiped at the razor-tail. Unable to fly, it hopped into the air but didn’t get high enough. The black dragon’s paw knocked it to the ground, where it lay stunned on its side.

  The dragon rider slowed when he reached Mel. Dirt caked his clothes and boots and dusted his short, curly hair.

  “We’ll explain later. Get into the woods.” He bent down and grabbed Orin under the arms. Orin groaned, and Mel helped steady him once he gained his feet. They made their way slowly to the trees.

  “True,” Orin whispered. “True.”

  The man glanced at Mel, brows drawn down in confusion.

  “His pet goose,” she said. “I don’t know where she is.”

  Pausing, the man glanced back at Vanda, who immediately veered off and headed for a different point in the woods—the direction she and Orin had come from. She must have remembered the goose, too.

  Poor True. She was probably terrified, strapped into the basket and helpless.

  The ground rumbled with another roar from the black dragon. Orin startled, and his eyes widened. “I hope he’s with us,” he whispered in a choked voice. He took Mel’s hand and stumbled forward in a near run.

  Once under the trees, they all stopped and watched the two dragons. Orin wrapped his arms around Mel, and she leaned into him, taking long, deep breaths. The razor-tail stood no chance without its pack.

  “Hurry up, hurry up,” the dragon rider muttered, much like Vanda had just before he appeared. His hands dug into the bark of a tree, and his gaze alternated between the clearing and the woods on their left. After a few moments, he let out a deep sigh and seemed to relax a bit.

  Vanda appeared among the shadows, carrying the basket, which she immediately handed over to Orin. True peeked her head over the edge and gave a sad hwonk.

  Mel gave her a quick pat. “It’s all right now, girl. You keep those babies safe.”

  The dragon rider approached Vanda as if to embrace her, but she put a restraining hand on his chest. “We need to get moving. He’ll join us.”

  He nodded but didn’t move, studying the dragon battle in the clearing.

  “If he says he can handle it,” Vanda said, “leave him be. Don’t make him angry.”

  Mel frowned. Had she missed part of the conversation?

  “All right,” the man said. “Let’s go.”

  Vanda led the way as quickly as she could in the dark, with Mel and Orin in the middle, putting as much distance as they could between themselves and the clearing—in the opposite direction of the village. The sounds of battle faded, until finally a loud crack echoed in the woods, as if a tree had been snapped. A scream from the razor-tail, cut short. A final ear-splitting roar from the black dragon.

  Mel stopped and let the silence settle over her.

  “The dragon’s dead,” the man said. “But we have to hurry. There’s a stream ahead, and he’s meeting us there.”

  “Any chance you can tell us who you
are while we walk?” She’d ask for further details later, but she’d like a name for her rescuer.

  “Prince Sebastian of Mazereon at your service. You can call me Baz. The dragon is… a friend. He’s going to pick us up at the stream and take us to safety. That razor-tail’s pack is headed this way fast.”

  Orin squeezed her hand. “How are you holding up?”

  “I’m fine.” She let him lead her on. How had the crown prince of Mazereon become involved in all this? King Lotario had no heir and a spare. Sebastian was his one and only child—riding on a dragon and rescuing a princess. Her thoughts felt disjointed, but she had no doubt that Vanda and Prince Sebastian—Baz—withheld more information than they shared.

  “How long to get to this… wait. Did you say the dragon is picking us up?”

  “Yes,” Baz said.

  Her stomach clenched almost as tightly as it had in the clearing. Heights were no problem, but falling… well, falling was another matter entirely.

  “Is something wrong?” Vanda asked.

  “Ah. No. Just never flown on a dragon before.” Who had? Except for Prince Sebastian-call-me-Baz of Mazereon. What kind of man had a giant dragon as a friend?

  Not a sorcerer, thankfully. She could rule that out. Dragons hated sorcery of any kind. Speaking of which, whatever curse the villagers had spoken of must still be in effect. How long until they realized their plan hadn’t worked?

  “We’re here,” Baz said.

  As he spoke, a great thwump thwump thwump sounded overhead, and the dragon landed in a stream just beyond the trees ahead, its wings dislodging branches and spraying twigs and leaves into the air. It crouched low, wings spread, belly in the water, and turned its massive head to watch as they emerged from the woods. Its eyes, as big as her head, glistened with moonlight.

  She squeezed Orin’s hand, and he gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Vanda in front,” Baz said.

  She obeyed, climbing onto the dragon without hesitation by way of its outstretched leg and into a saddle with a high pommel and cantle but no stirrups.

  “Your Highness?” Baz held out his hand. “You go behind me. I’ll help you.”

  Mel dragged her feet, staring up at the dragon’s wings and all the way down to the tip of its tail. She placed her fingers in Baz’s hand.

  “Up you go.” He lifted her by the waist and practically threw her onto the dragon’s back. She clutched Vanda’s outstretched hand and hauled herself up, allowing room for Baz to settle in front of her. He reached around Vanda and grasped a couple of handles on the front of the saddle, both of them leaning forward awkwardly. She put her arms around his waist, and then Orin climbed up behind her.

  “Wouldn’t Wren be jealous right now?” he said into her ear, no doubt trying to distract her. The youngest of all the twelve sisters, Wren had always wanted to fly.

  Mel couldn’t even nod. Every muscle in her body was tensed, waiting for the dragon to kick off. Heat from its scaly hide warmed her legs, and its muscles rippled as it stood. She gasped.

  “Everyone hold on,” Baz said.

  The dragon took off without warning, jumping straight into the air, and the movement both jostled them around and pressed them into its back. Its wings flapped madly as it attempted to get aloft with its burden. She closed her eyes and pressed her face into Baz’s back. Orin’s arms tightened around her waist, and he muttered a couple of times in response to the jarring motion. They couldn’t be that heavy for the dragon, weight-wise, but it had to be awkward to have four of them clinging to its back.

  She glanced down once at the quickly-receding stream, the trees a shadowy green blur as they surged forward, but her stomach flopped alarmingly, so she squeezed her eyes shut again. The wind pulled at her hair and screamed in her ears, but it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. Vanda would be getting the worst of it in front.

  The dragon banked slightly. She tightened her grip, and though Baz grunted, she didn’t ease up. As fast as they were going, they would outrun… out fly… the razor-tails in no time. She’d forgotten to use her sister Lily’s trick of counting, so she had no sense of how much time had passed in the air. She had no sense of direction, either. She assumed Baz would take them farther into Mazereon, over the mountains, but she didn’t care to open her eyes to validate her guess at the moment.

  The dragon descended. Were they safe so soon? She peeked with one eye and instantly regretted it after seeing the trees rushing towards them. She shrieked, and by the time the wind blew away the last shred of sound, they had landed. The dragon crouched, and she launched herself off its back, cold and stiff, and stumbled a few steps before she fell to the ground. Everyone else dismounted on the other side.

  She huddled with her arms wrapped around her knees, the pain in her wrists nothing more than a nuisance at the moment. Orin joined her and helped her stand.

  “You’re doing great,” he said, rubbing some warmth into her arms. “We’ve gained some time. Baz says the pack is still following, but there’s a tunnel here that will take us to safety.”

  She nodded. Above ground, below ground. She’d go wherever Baz said to get away from the razor-tails.

  Baz led them to a hole in the ground with hills of dirt piled around its edges, barely big enough for the black dragon to squeeze into with its wings tightly furled. He fetched a lantern from underneath a clump of bushes, lit it, and held out his other hand to Vanda. She joined him, and they descended, slipping and sliding down the loose-packed dirt at the entrance. Mel followed, with Orin behind her. True made worried whisper-honks but remained calm. For all True knew, their flight was one elaborate scheme to save her eggs.

  Mel steadied herself against the wall as she half skidded down the steep slope, loose soil raining on her hands. Once at the bottom, the ground leveled off to hard-packed earth. She followed Vanda closely, keeping her eyes on the lantern light floating ahead. It reminded her of descending the staircase to Tharius’s underground lair not long ago with her sisters. But this tunnel, said the man with the pet dragon, would lead them to safety. She couldn’t imagine where it would come out that would be safe. Above ground lay nothing more than woods. Endless woods and meadows, gradually leading up into the distant mountains. How far did the tunnel go?

  Dust floated through the air. The dragon brought up the rear of their procession. The scratching of talons on stone and the rumble of falling earth echoed behind them, as the dragon closed off the Greenway entrance to the tunnel. Neylan could have told her whether razor-tails were good diggers. Either way, the dirt would only slow them down briefly.

  “How close are they?” she wondered aloud, not expecting a response.

  “He can’t smell them through the dust,” Vanda said.

  Maybe she could get more answers. “Where does this tunnel lead?”

  After a long pause, Vanda said, “To a clearing. A large one.”

  A clearing. Unless the prince had a few quads of dragon soldiers on the other side of the tunnel, how would a clearing keep them safe? She didn’t ask, partly because the dust had dried her throat.

  She pulled up the collar of her tunic to cover her mouth and nose and squinted to keep the flickering lantern in sight. Roots brushed her hair from time to time. She counted for a while, but trailed off after four hundred and something. As they continued, she tripped less, and the ground smoothed out, as if trod down from more frequent use.

  Finally, the path sloped upward, and Baz picked up the pace, despite the incline. “Hurry!”

  Mel panted, legs aching from the exertion. And then she heard it. In between the grunts and growls of the black dragon as it pulled down the tunnel, distant snarls from the razor-tails, who seemed to be digging through the blockage. She let go of the tunic covering her mouth and covered her ears. Her legs burned, as did her lungs, her wrists, her feet. She imagined jumping into a pool of cool water and washing away the memory of this day and then drinking another pool of cool water and then falling asleep in a soft bed. Orin’s
hand pressed into her back, urging her forward. How long had he been there? With thoughts of water and feather pillows in her mind, she scrabbled up a rocky slope at Vanda’s heels until they emerged into the clearing. The large clearing held no dragon soldiers and no shelter and no safety.

  “Run!” Baz yelled.

  She didn’t think she could possibly run anymore, but she somehow did.

  Chapter Five

  Mel didn’t run alone in the open field, easy pickings for the pursuing razor-tails. Orin grasped her hand and steadied her as waist-high grass tangled around their legs. She glanced back.

  The black dragon burst from the tunnel. A cloud of dust and debris followed, billowing behind and quickly overtaking it with the force of a storm, as if the whole tunnel had collapsed. The creature whipped around and roared into the darkness, wings extended, until the cloud engulfed it.

  The dust overtook them all. Mel coughed and stumbled forward, running and running and running. Perhaps the dirt would hide them from the razor-tails, mask their scent. She forced her legs to keep moving. Someone shouted, but she kept going. Finally, Orin slowed. She slowed with him, and then he stopped and pulled her in for a hug.

  “It’s over. We can stop running.”

  The dragon fanned its wings, dispersing the dust cloud to reveal the hole filled in with rocks and dirt. She panted for a moment, and then breathed a huge sigh of relief. No way had those dragons survived that. They’d barely survived it themselves.

  Orin gasped and drew his sword, stepping in front of her, head tipped to the sky. Three dark forms flew fast towards them in the moonlit sky—more razor-tails, stragglers who hadn’t made it into the tunnel with the others.

  Mel drew two daggers and stepped up beside him.

  Baz joined them, hands on his hips. “We’re safe now. Just watch.”

  How could he be so calm? They would all be watching a bloodbath in less than a minute. She tensed, waiting for the onslaught, but when the dragons reached a point just beyond where she guessed they’d entered the tunnel, they all slammed into… something. All three of them fell, disappearing into the trees. They didn’t return to the air.