Redheart (Leland Dragon Series)

by Jackie Gamber

  Flames licked out from Kallon’s throat, engulfing Jastin’s bearded face with yellow heat. If the man sensed his near death, he failed to show it. He stood before Kallon’s gaping mouth, chained arms flexed, feet planted, and glared.

  “You killed Bluecrest!” Kallon showered Jastin with sparks.

  Jastin didn’t even flinch as the sizzling pinpricks turned to ash against his bare chest. “It was business!”

  “You murdered my father!” Kallon belched fire, his eyes gone wild. This time, Jastin had to duck to avoid it. The cell was filled with the stench of sulfur and singed hair.

  “Stop it!” Riza screamed. She clamored to get to her feet, tumbled, and tried again. “Kallon, stop it!” Through her haze of pain and nausea, she knocked aside Orman and rushed toward the heat. “Don’t do it!”

  “He killed my father!” Kallon roared.

  “Not here! Not like this!” Riza ran blindly. She collided into what felt like a solid wall, and only registered the scratch of rough scales a split-second before an explosion of pain in her shoulder came so quickly she couldn’t even gasp. She fell back and twitched helplessly. Little specks of light floated around her eyes.

  “Riza!” Orman’s voice came from somewhere very far away.

  She felt hands cradling her. She thought she heard the click of Kallon’s claws, but the sound bounced around her ears in echoes. Again came Orman’s voice from some dark, resonant hallway. “So it was you.”

  Jastin’s reply faded like a ghost down that same hallway. “It was business.”

  * * *

  Fingers roused her, stroking her cheek. She stirred and opened her mouth, but a hand pressed over it.

  “Sssh. It’s Jastin,” he whispered. “Be still.”

  She mumbled against his hand. He removed it, but his breath remained close to her ear. “What happened?” she asked. “Where am I?”

  “You’re still here, where you fell. The wizard tended you for a while, but he sleeps now.” He chuckled softly. “You managed to fix your own shoulder when you ran into that lummox. Must have hurt like a bugger.”

  “Where’s Kallon? What did you do to him?”

  His hand clamped to her mouth again. “Ssh. You think I’m able to do something to him in the dark, and with no weapons? I don’t even have free arms.”

  She tried to turn her head, and to pull her mouth out from beneath his grasp, but his fingers only tightened. His chains scratched her chin as his other hand cupped her cheek.

  Now his voice came from above her. “Listen to me. Your stubbornness is going to get you killed. You can’t leave your fate to the dragon.”

  She yelled into his hand. He clenched her face so hard she struggled to breathe. “No, listen,” he hissed. “The dragon can’t save you. He can’t prove Blackclaw’s involvement, and he can’t retrieve the circlet. When the Red fails, Blackclaw will kill us both.”

  Circlet? What circlet? She didn’t understand what he was talking about, but she wouldn’t believe him, anyway, if she did understand. She tried to tell him that, but his hand choked her words. She arched her neck and tried to bite him.

  “Missed me,” he whispered. “I’m not trying to hurt you. Stop fighting me.”

  She wished she could see him, so she could at least glare at him.

  “I’m going to say this one more time. The dragon will fail. When he does, you will die.”

  She stilled. She tried to ask a question, but only garbled against his hand again. He loosened his grip. “How can you know he’ll fail?” she asked.

  “Blackclaw has challenged your Red to retrieve the Circlet of Aspira. But I delivered that circlet to him years ago. He already has it.”

  “Oh. That circlet.” Now she remembered Orman’s story. “Why don’t you tell them? If the others see that Kallon was tricked, won’t that show how Blackclaw really is?”

  Jastin touched her hair. “Blackclaw isn’t stupid. While we’re here, out of his way, he’s taking care of all that.”

  “But how can you know?”

  He pressed his mouth to her temple and spoke words against her skin. “It’s what I would do.”

  She closed her eyes. “Please stop touching me like that.”

  “Why do you resist me, Riza?” His mouth drew down the side of her face and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Even if this whole challenge weren’t already doomed, you could never fit into his life.”

  “I just want to be his friend. I don’t see why we can’t be friends.”

  “Where? Here? You see how they’ve accepted you already. They despise us as much as we despise them.” His lips pressed to the side of her neck. She clenched against the rise of goose bumps. “A war brews, Riza.”

  “No.”

  “There won’t be any more friendships between humans and dragons. When the fight comes, it will be us against them. Live or die. One side or the other.”

  “No.” Fear clenched her belly and squeezed tears to her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

  “It’s already that way. You just refuse to see it.”

  “If Kallon becomes leader instead of Blackclaw, he can change that.”

  Jastin was silent for a long time. She felt his breath against her throat, smelled the bitter remnants of sulfur and perspiration. She was almost certain he could see her in the dark, and that his eyes were roaming her face for which piece of flesh he might tear off with his teeth.

  But when he spoke again, his voice was tender. “I think your Red wants to show the others that Blackclaw paid me with a pouch that bears the manor symbol.” His chains scraped over her shoulder as his fingers guided her face toward his voice. “That pouch is already gone. It was long gone before we were captured.”

  “But if you tell them where it is, won’t it be enough to prove Blackclaw was in on it?”

  “It’s miles away.”

  “When did he give it to you?”

  “Before the opening ceremonies of the council meeting. The night I took you to the cave in the woods.”

  “Then when did you have time to travel so far to hide it?”

  He growled softly. “You are the most obstinate female that breathes. I thought my wife was the only one who could argue a snake into thinking he was a leather belt, but she had nothing on you.”

  “Well, I just don’t understand!”

  “Do you have to understand something before you can believe it?” He slid his hand into her hair and gripped gently. She could feel his lips against her mouth as he spoke. “Understand this, then. I am trying to save your life. I can’t think why, with all the trouble you’ve given me.” He drew in a long breath. “When I get my vest back, I can take you to safety in the time it takes you to blink. We can be miles away. Just like that pouch.”

  “Are you talking about magic? Are you a wizard?”

  His quiet laugh held more frustration than amusement. “I’m not a wizard. But I work for someone who knows one.”

  “You mean Blackclaw?”

  His fingers traced her cheek. “Let me take you with me, just to see you safe.” His voice dropped so low, she could barely make out his words. “You don’t have to stay with me. Just let me save you.”

  She let herself see deep inside to all the resistance, all the straining she’d ever done against the world and its confines. Jastin was right, she was stubborn. But she’d had to be. In a world of selfish, small-minded thinkers, she’d had to fight with everything she had not to become one of them.

  But for what? To be laid out on a cold floor of a cell, buried alive. She’d changed nothing. She’d accomplished nothing. Every small step from home had only carried her further into the mouth of darkness, and she’d been swallowed by it. She searched now for the fight inside her, but only found weariness.

  She would have liked to cry a little, but couldn’t work up the strength for even tears. She closed her eyes. “What about Orman?”

  “Let him save himself,” he whispered. His kiss pressed hard to
her mouth.

  She couldn’t immediately react. She’d gone numb. It felt like all those times when she’d slept and had somehow known she was sleeping. When her dreams didn’t feel like dreams at all, but like moments when her soul had escaped to fly, soaring and fearless, into adventure.

  Was she sleeping now? Her body lay unmoving. The weight of his heavy leg swung across her thighs and pinned her to the floor. It hurt, but she couldn’t squirm. He pressed harder against her.

  Her mind was foggy, full of the shadows of things she once dreamed about in places she thought someday she’d discover. Those things would never happen if she died here on the mountain. Maybe a life with Jastin was better than no life at all. Maybe he was right about that too.

  Then she heard someone call. At first, she thought the voice echoed in her mind, but when she listened closer, she realized it murmured from that place in her soul where her fight was hiding. Wake up, Riza, said the voice. You want to fly.

  She instantly awoke. Strength flowed into her arms and legs. She cried out against his mouth, and bucked against his weight.

  He pulled back, his voice thick with breath. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. Not here. Not like this.”

  “No, Jastin,” she said, twisting to push him away. “Not ever.”

  She could feel his angry stare pierce right through the blackness to her face. “Am I really so repulsive you’d rather die?”

  “It’s not you. It’s everything I’ve ever believed. I can’t give up now. If I’m going to die, I want to die flying.”

  “No.” He gripped her chin again and pressed his mouth to her cheek. “No, I won’t let you.”

  “Let me go!”

  Orman snorted awake, and she heard his groggy voice. “Hm? What was that?”

  “Riza?” It was Kallon. His voice was so clear she had to wonder how long he’d been awake.

  “Stupid woman,” Jastin spat into her ear. “Stupid, stubborn, infuriating…” He pushed off, making her grunt. He continued his babble of adjectives as he skulked away.

  “What happened? Did he harm you? Are you quite all right?” Orman was there, his hands smoothing her hair, stroking her arms, searching for injury.

  “Riza?” Kallon asked again.

  “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” She struggled to sit, her hands still useless and aching behind her back. Orman helped. “I have to tell you about the pouch.”

  The door suddenly groaned open and blinding torchlight swung in front of her face. She turned her head, seeing white splotches in front of her eyes.

  “Time to go,” said the talking wall of gray scales that lumbered into the room. “Just the Red. The rest of you get to stay.”

  “Wait,” she said, trying to get to her feet. Orman was there again to help her. “Kallon, Jastin’s pouch—”

  “Quiet, you,” rumbled the Gray, and pushed her.

  She was still trying to see past the floating splotches when Kallon’s muzzle brushed her cheek. “It’s all right, Riza. I know.”

  “No, you don’t!” She stumbled forward. The massive door slammed shut. “Wait! It’s not there! Kallon, the pouch isn’t there!” She fell against the door, scratching her forehead.

  “We’ve got to get out there,” said Jastin, coming beside her.

  “What pouch?” asked Orman.

  “Do you think he heard me?” She turned toward Orman, her voice tight. “I don’t think he heard me.”

  “Doesn’t matter now, anyway,” said Jastin. “We’ve just got to get out there.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Kallon paused in the hallway. “Why are the others not coming?” He could hear Riza’s panicked voice, distorted through the thick wooden door.

  The Gray kept moving. “I was told to bring only you.”

  “Blackclaw is violating numerous codes in the Human-Dragon Relations Pact. You will be held accountable for following orders that defy those codes.”

  “By whom?” The Gray gave Kallon a casual glance, and then, instead of veering left toward the exit, he turned right.

  Kallon hung back. When the Gray was out of view, Kallon yanked open the metal slab on the prison door. “Riza?” he called.

  “Dragon.” Armitage’s face appeared, covered in soot. “Get us out of here.”

  “Riza was trying to tell me something.”

  “You won’t find the pouch where you think. I need my vest. Get me out of here and get me my vest.”

  Kallon snorted. “And I should trust you because…?”

  “There was a time when prisoners just quietly did as they were told,” spoke a voice in the hallway. Kallon turned to find the scowling Gray, who was holding a wickedly pointed shortstaff imbedded with dark blue crystals. “Fear was enough,” continued the Gray, staring down at the staff and twirling it slowly. “There was no need for threats and violence. I liked my job much better then.”

  Kallon sauntered toward him. “Have you tried asking nicely?” he asked, keeping an eye on that shortstaff.

  They turned right. Kallon strained to remember where this hallway led, until he caught sight of an iron door. He paused. Ivy leaves climbed the door and met in the center. There perched a metal dragonfly, watching the hallway with a cocked head. He ran his thumb over the dragonfly’s wings, and remembered. His mother’s room.

  “Go on.” The Gray waved his staff.

  Kallon pushed open the door. In the center of the room stood a thick slab of desk, with massive legs carved into claws that gripped the four corners. A neatly folded black tunic and leather vest lay on top of the desk, with a sword, several cloth pouches, and a crossbow with arrows, all arranged in a tidy half-circle. Behind the desk stood Fordon Blackclaw, his palms pressed to the wood. His dark head loomed over the desk.

  “You understand, of course, that the tarnish you are applying to my good name will not easily buff away,” Blackclaw said, his tone offensively patient. “You’ve introduced doubt into the minds of the masses, and it will linger. I will have to work hard to regain their trust.”

  Kallon straightened his shoulders and met Blackclaw’s gaze. He was closer to the council leader than he’d been before. Kallon had thought Blackclaw was larger, somehow. Of course, his head still towered over Kallon’s, and the leader’s paws were half again the width of his own. So why did he seem so much smaller?

  “A great leader should have to work at keeping trust,” said Kallon. “He should have to prove himself again and again to those who place their faith in him.”

  Blackclaw leaned back. “Such conviction in your words.” He shifted around to the side of the desk, moving like liquid shadows. “Almost convincing. In fact, your performance this morning made even me wonder if you actually believed the things you were saying.”

  “Do not pretend for my sake, Blackclaw. We both know the truth.”

  “And it was because of those thoughts I found myself curious about the evidence of which you spoke. It is feasible, after all, that the human male convinced you of a plot by having this ‘evidence’ in his belongings.”

  Kallon’s stomach lurched. “You destroyed it.”

  “No, I assure you, I did not. Now, tell me, just between you and me, Redheart,” Blackclaw said, coming in front of the desk. “Why is it that you have come? What do you really want here?”

  Kallon regarded Blackclaw for a long moment. What did he really want? All morning, and until just now, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been acting on impulse, responding by instinct.

  “Come now, Red. It is the time for truth. What is the real reason you came back?”

  “I came back for my friends,” Kallon finally said.

  Blackclaw snorted. “But what do you want?”

  Kallon moved a step closer. “I want Leland dragons to see you for who you really are. I want them to be guided by a leader who cares more for them than he does for himself.”

  “Or to infiltrate this community with your lies?”

  “Very well, Fordon.” It wa
s the resonant voice of Hale Brownwing. Kallon turned to find the council member emerge from the adjoining room. Shera Yellowfang followed. “We have heard enough,” Brownwing said. “The Red has said nothing to discredit himself, and I believe he speaks in truth.”

  “As do I,” said Yellowfang. “Whether his accusations are true remains to be seen. But I believe that he believes them.”

  “What is this?” Kallon asked, eyes moving from Yellowfang to Brownwing, to Blackclaw. “Some sort of test?”

  Blackclaw opened his mouth, but Brownwing held out a paw and spoke instead. “Forgive us, Kallon. We represent the council members who are at a loss as to what is really going on here. We sense wrongdoing, but are uncertain as to the cause.”

  “So by presenting me with the human’s belongings, which have been cleansed of evidence, you thought I would confess to lying?”

  “Fordon thought you would betray yourself in some way, but only if you believed you were alone with him,” said Yellowfang. “Frankly, I agreed. It does seem an underhanded way of going about it, but you must realize we are only seeking the truth.”

  “The truth is your leader is the one with the power to manipulate all this,” said Kallon. “He can hold me prisoner while he tidies up his secrets. He can keep innocent humans behind bars to protect his own lies.” Kallon turned to Blackclaw, a wisp of steam curling from his lip. “As long as you continue to give Blackclaw his full leadership power, he will continue his wrongdoings without consequence.”

  “We have considered this,” said Brownwing. “But we have failed to find a reason to doubt him.”

  “Then perhaps you should be trying to find a reason to believe him!” Kallon spun to Brownwing. “His accusations of Orman Thistleby as a spy are ridiculous, and you know it. What proof did he give? And yet, the wizard starves in a cell that hasn’t been used since the Anodine war. Are we at war?”

  “Yes,” snarled Blackclaw. “We are at war with injustice. As such, that wizard is a war criminal.”

  “By whose judgment?” asked Kallon.

  “By mine!” Blackclaw slammed his fist to the desk, rattling Armitage’s sword to the floor. “I am the leader here! I need no other judgment!”