Redheart (Leland Dragon Series)

by Jackie Gamber

  Branches clawed her face. Needles stung her arms and calves. Her bare feet tromped hard on sticks and pebbles. She was almost grateful that her fear numbed the pain, but it did nothing for her stamina. Her body gave up before her mind was ready, and she dropped to her knees, her breath raspy. She clutched at the pain in her ribs.

  Movement rustled behind her. “Kallon?” she whispered. No response. A stick snapped, and she whirled. “Who’s there?”

  A hand clamped over her mouth. She was crushed against a chest and ribs, and dragged backward across scraping underbrush. “What are you doing? You were told east! East, not west,” said a harsh voice in her ear. She recognized it, its whisper was no disguise. Jastin Armitage.

  She clawed at the gloved hand over her mouth and tried to kick backward. When she couldn’t find his legs with her feet, she clamped her teeth on whatever she could grip. “Holy—!” he wheezed. His hand dropped. Before she could suck in a breath to scream, the hand was back, choking her. A stampede of heavy feet closed in.

  She was lifted. Her captor threw himself against a mound of boulders, pulling her with him. They fell onto the floor of a small cavern, and she landed on top of him with a grunt. Behind them, rumbling footfalls shook the ground and rushed past the slim opening of their hiding place.

  He removed his hand from her mouth. “Go ahead,” he whispered. “Scream now.”

  Oooo, how she burned. She’d rather be trampled than to have to look at him. She tore away and flung herself at the fissure opening. He cursed. His hands latched around her ankles. She fell hard on her face and saw sparkles. When she felt his hands on her shoulders, she sprang to action again, kicking and clawing at him. He pulled her to her feet anyway, and slapped her to the rock wall.

  “Stop fighting me,” he snarled. “I’m trying to help you!”

  “I don’t want your help! Where’s Kallon? What have you done to him?”

  “I’ve done nothing to him. He isn’t coming for you.”

  “Yes, he is! He said he would!”

  “Get it through your head, woman. I’m your hero. I always have been.” He pressed her arms above her head, and his voice came near to her mouth. “Your dragon is a coward.”

  “I never asked for a hero. Only a friend.” Something stabbed her ribs. She writhed, trying to pull from his grasp. “You’re hurting me.”

  “Where were they keeping you? You stink like a sewer. It’s going to take a month of baths to get the stench out of your hair.”

  “If it means you’ll stay away from me, I’ll be happy to never bathe again.”

  He released her. “There are thirty dragons out there searching for you right now. Come dawn, there will be more. They will all want to find you, and without me, they will. Hate me if you want—”

  “Fine. I will,” she snapped.

  He moved away. When he spoke again, his voice was soft. “Hate me tomorrow, but tonight let me help you.” He sounded so weary. She’d have never guessed the man was capable of being tired. And he sounded hurt. She’d have never guessed he was capable of that, either.

  She wanted to see his face. She slipped her hand into her pocket, and her light crystal ignited. Sparkles lifted toward the low ceiling of the hiding place and cast yellow light over his hunched shoulders and surprised eyes. “How are you doing that?” he asked.

  “Orman taught me.” She stepped closer and studied him. He did look weary. Even beaten. She almost felt sorry for him. Almost. “Fine. For tonight I’ll let you help me, if you tell me where Kallon is.”

  He wrapped thick fingers around her hand and turned to lead her outside. “That light trick is handy, but douse it a little, will you?”

  She held her ground. “Jastin. Where’s Kallon?”

  When he tugged her, she had to shuffle her feet to keep from falling over. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know where he is.”

  * * *

  Kallon peered around from the corner of the manor. He’d been crouched, listening for the fall of dragon steps, for what seemed hours. In, out, up the stairs, down the stairs, herds of feet trounced the ground until he thought the ceremonies were never going to start. Twice, he’d circled in back to the place where the manor and mountain became one. By design, none of the windows were large enough to climb through. All dragons had to enter through the arch. He’d considered climbing up the windows, though, and perching on top.

  It was on his second circle that he’d heard a shout. He’d scrambled back around to the front of the manor. Now, peering around the corner, he saw herds of dragons split off from the entrance to the arena and rush into the surrounding trees. Snorting dragons stomped past without seeing him. Claws kicked fir needles into the air in a chaotic blur. The earth shook. Then all was quiet.

  His chance had presented itself. He rushed up the granite steps of the manor and ducked inside. He pressed against a far wall, whisking his tail in to wrap it around his feet. Riza’s hazy scent found his nostrils. He barely recognized it, it was so infused with the sour tones of human waste. He must be close.

  The hall was clear. He inched his way forward. He reached the doorway of the Great Room and peeked in. The sloping curve of the high ceiling, detailed paintings of dragon battles on the stone walls, the plush, woven flooring beneath his feet; all were reminders of the time when this place was his home. Great feasts and celebrations had been held here. Suddenly, his memory echoed with his father’s laugh that ricocheted like thunder off the walls, drowning out the chatter of dining guests. The sound was so convincing, he had to look around himself to make sure he hadn’t really heard it.

  He moved on, shaken. He was afraid to go further for fear of what other memories might surface, but he willed himself to continue. He would find Riza and Orman and steal them away to safety. His heavy footfalls were silent against the cushioned floor.

  “Kallon!”

  He drew up. “Orman?” he asked, eyes searching left to right for a trace of the man.

  Orman emerged from the shadows of a long hallway, arms outstretched. His beard, brown with filth, spread stains across his scrawny chest. He limped. When he reached Kallon, he collapsed against Kallon’s ribs.

  “Where’s Riza?” Kallon turned toward the dark hall, expecting to see her green eyes and smiling face. He didn’t.

  “Gone,” said Orman. “Whitetail took her, left the door open.”

  “Left the door open? He took Riza and left the door open?”

  “Yes. Yes. Go, we must get out of here.” Orman pushed off from Kallon and limped past. “Hurry. I’ve a feeling—”

  “He will be back?” finished a voice for Orman. Kallon spun around. He stared into the face of Fane Whitetail.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  “Whitetail,” said Kallon, not knowing where the firmness of his voice was coming from. “This human has done no wrong. You are holding him prisoner against the Dragon-Human Relations Pact guidelines for non-war conflicts.”

  “This human is a spy. There are no guidelines which dictate this situation.”

  “Hawk spit! I’m no spy, you pale runt!” Orman balled his fists and shook one at Whitetail. He swung flashing eyes to Kallon. “All they asked me about was the circlet. They think the real one is out there somewhere.”

  “The Circlet of Aspira? Is that what all this is about?” Kallon looked from Orman to Whitetail, and back. “What does that have to do with Riza? What does that have to do with you, Orman?”

  “Kallon, that circlet is what your father was defending when he died.” Orman suddenly looked older than Kallon remembered him ever looking.

  “But, you always told me he died defending you.”

  “Yes. I was bringing it to him. To return it to the dragons.” Orman closed his eyes and withered against the wall. “We were attacked, and I never did find the circlet after that. We failed to protect it.”

  “Do not say failed!” Kallon reared back, his anger blasting to the ceiling. “He was not a failure! He was a hero!”

&n
bsp; “Yes.” Orman held up his hands. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

  Kallon felt Whitetail’s eyes boring into the side of his face, and he swung his narrowed eyes to the White.

  Whitetail crossed his forelegs and arched back. “So. You are the heir of Bren Redheart, after all.”

  “Of course I am. I am the last Red,” Kallon snorted, and surprised himself again with his tone.

  “We thought you had died with your father. That is,” Whitetail added, “…we dragons. You will forgive us our surprise at your sudden and unexpected return.”

  “What have you done with the girl?”

  “Me?” Whitetail looked between Kallon and Orman. “What do you mean, what have I done with her?”

  “The wizard said you took her and left the door open. What have you done with her?”

  Whitetail shook his head, paws uplifting. “No, you are mistaken. I have only just come from the woods, where we have been searching for her. Your wizard here is the one who opened the door and helped her escape.”

  “You’re lying!” Orman puffed his chest and glared up at the white dragon.

  “Am I?” Whitetail’s eye ridges lifted, and his paws fanned open. “You will have the opportunity to refute the accusation tomorrow, during the council meeting. In the meantime, we will investigate. You will have to be kept in chains in full view of a guard at all times. You cannot be trusted to stay put.”

  “I’ll do no such thing,” Orman said. “You’ve gone too far this time, Whitetail. The others will see right through you!”

  “We will see.” Whitetail waved a paw, and from nowhere, a Gray appeared with chains in his paws, dragging them noisily across the floor.

  “No!” Kallon roared. He lowered his head and rammed Whitetail in the shoulder. The frail dragon grunted in surprise and careened back against the wall with a thud. Kallon spun for the Gray.

  The Gray dropped the chains and tensed, but before he had a chance to pounce, Kallon dove. His head butt found the Gray’s jaw. The Gray’s head snapped back, but his forelegs jutted out, clamping around Kallon’s throat. Kallon yanked back, trying to pull the Gray off balance, but the Gray only stumbled and caught his footing again.

  Kallon couldn’t breathe. The Gray loomed over him, face twisted. Kallon worked his tongue, and then spit a pathetic spout of flame into the Gray’s face. He knew it wasn’t strong enough to singe anything, but he hoped it was enough to sting his eyes.

  The Gray recoiled with a growl and the grip around Kallon’s throat loosened. Air rushed into his lungs. Kallon chopped his foreleg upward to break the hold, and then rushed. Desperately, or, instinctively, Kallon went for his throat. His jaws clamped around the Gray’s thick neck, and Kallon threw all of his weight into flipping the other onto his back. Gray claws flailed. His opponent slammed into Whitetail with the rumble of an avalanche.

  “Hurry,” said Kallon, and nudged Orman with his snout. The rooms of the manor weren’t large enough to allow full wingspan, so he and Orman couldn’t lift until they were outside. Only a few feet to go. When Orman struggled to run, Kallon gently nudged him again.

  “Get off me, you oaf!” Whitetail was heard above the scratching din of two dragon bodies scrabbling for balance.

  They reached the arch. Kallon clutched Orman to his chest. His wings sliced the air, and they flew. Kallon pivoted to look behind them. They weren’t being followed.

  “What about Riza?” Orman called over the wind.

  Kallon dipped to catch a cross draft, and his billowed wings shot them sharply forward. “Whitetail said she is in the woods. If we try to look for her now, we might lead more dragons to her.”

  “Why would Whitetail help her escape, only to abandon her to the wilds?”

  “I do not think she was abandoned, I think she was delivered to someone. A human.”

  “A human?” Orman asked, his voice weakening.

  Armitage. That human in black was at least competent to keep Riza safe in a wood full of searching dragons. Kallon seethed at having to leave her to his company for the night, but he wasn’t exactly given a choice.

  “We’ll need to go back. This isn’t over, you know,” said Orman. “They’re using that girl. I have a bad feeling.”

  “I’ll go back once you’re safe,” said Kallon. While he spoke, his eyes scoured the darkness below. Armitage had better take care of Riza. Or he’d kill him.

  * * *

  Riza was tugged through the cutting underbrush, trying to keep up. “How much farther? Where are we going?” Jastin didn’t respond. He only yanked her arm harder. She stumbled, and the glowing crystal dropped from her hand and winked out.

  Jastin stopped. “Now what?” He crouched and sifted his fingers through the thick carpet of fir needles. “We could really use that light.”

  His face hovered somewhere near her knee. She wanted to kick him. “I’m tired. I’m hungry. I’m scared. I think my feet are bleeding.”

  He rose up, and though she couldn’t make out his features in the darkness, she felt his face close by. “I’m sorry, Riza. I know I’m pushing you hard, but we’re almost to Blade, and then you won’t have to walk.”

  “But then what? Where are you taking me?”

  “To a safe place, where the dragons won’t find us. We’ll need to spend the night there, then we’ll leave the mountain tomorrow.” His hand drew down her arm and clasped her fingers. “Forget the light. I can hear Blade. Come on.”

  She couldn’t think of what else to do, so she followed. Leaving with him tomorrow would be a different story, but she didn’t mention that. She trudged along, her feet aching as though on fire, her legs as heavy as timber logs.

  “Ho, Blade,” Jastin called. Hooves rustled and a soft whinny sounded. “Up you go.”

  Riza was whisked from her feet and deposited onto Blade’s saddle. Jastin hoisted himself behind her, wrapped his arms around her to grasp the reins, and clicked his tongue.

  What a relief to be off her feet. She sagged against Jastin despite trying not to. “I feel like I’ve been hungry and tired for weeks,” she murmured. “Always running. Always dark. I want to see the sun again.”

  “You rest now,” he said, and pinned her gently back with his left arm.

  In the next moment, he was rousing her. “We’re here, Riza. Look.”

  She peeled open her eyes and tried to find what she was supposed to be seeing. A blur of flickering light floated somewhere in the distance. Everything else was just darkness.

  Jastin slid from the saddle, then eased her down onto her feet. The moment she touched down, sharp pain shot through her legs. She hobbled a few steps, then crumpled, her body refusing to work. Jastin’s arms came around her and scooped her up. “We have food and water and shelter for the night. You’ll feel better soon.”

  He carried her into the mouth of a cave, where torchlight bathed them both. Jastin’s face was pinched and dusty. Her borrowed tunic crumpled around her thighs, torn and muddied. Her arms oozed blood from hundreds of tiny scratches. He laid her onto the ground. “So many caves,” she mused aloud.

  Then she saw the crate beside her. She pulled back the cloth. “Food! Bread and cheese!” She didn’t even wait for an invitation. She broke off a handful of white cheese and gorged.

  “Help yourself.” Something in his tone sounded amused, though he didn’t smile. He crouched beside her and broke off some bread for himself.

  “How did you know this would be here? Did you bring it?”

  “No,” Jastin said. He chewed.

  “Then who did?”

  He only watched her, then rose up and stepped outside.

  “Jastin?”

  He returned with a saddlebag. Opening it, he laid out an empty water bladder, two piles of cloth, a cake of lard soap, and small tins that were bent and tarnished. She finished her cheese and broke off a thick piece of bread while she watched. “Are you going to tell me anything about what’s happening?”

  “What’s happening is
that we’re eating. And drinking, hopefully.” He leaned over the crate and rummaged through it. “Ah. Perfect.” He withdrew a clay pot and two chipped cups. “This will help you feel better.” Red wine splashed into the cups, and he offered her one.

  She accepted. She was so thirsty she drank it dry, and then held out the cup for a refill. “Not too much on an empty stomach,” he said. “Just sip.” More wine poured. She sipped.

  Warmth filled her weary body. She did feel better. She finished her bread and reached for more. “Someone knew we would be coming here tonight, and left food and torchlight. Why?”

  “When you’re able, you’ll bathe.” He set the soap and the pile of cloth beside her. “Scrub your feet, even though it will sting. You can have one of my tunics.”

  As much as she detested the thought of bathing anywhere near the man, she was looking forward to a good soak. Filth and grit felt caked into her skin, as though she’d been lifted by her heels and dunked headfirst into a vat of grime. “I’m able, I think, if it’s not far.”

  He whistled, and Blade appeared at the cave opening. “I’ll lead you there. Blade will wait for you and lead you back.”

  A few aching minutes later, she was perched atop the black mount, watching the sky as she was carried. “I see stars. Look, Jastin.”

  “A clear night. Hot.”

  “Yes. Always hot.” Water splashed around her feet as Blade moved into the water. Her feet did sting as they submerged, and she sucked in a breath. Then she slid off the saddle and plunged into the cool water. Blade waited while she soaked and scrubbed her stinging feet, her scalp, and her face. When she finally climbed back onto Blade’s back, she breathed in deeply of the clean mountain scent mixed with lavender and damp hair. Then she slipped Jastin’s black tunic over her head and tugged it into place.

  “Ho, Blade,” called Jastin, and the horse turned to follow.

  She stiffened. “How long were you standing there?” No reply. She wished she’d kicked him in the head when she’d had the chance.