Dragonstorm: A Dragonhall Chronicles novel (The Reasoner Trilogy Book 2)

by Mirren Hogan

  "This way," Bakel said, heading up the corridor.

  The number of reasoners stationed at the holding must be few, and all occupied with the train, because there was no sign of them anywhere inside the building. The lack of sound made Daven's hair stand on end. A glance at one of the doors as they passed suggested it was thick. Perhaps there was a magin inside screaming, and they couldn't hear a sound. Just the idea made him sick to his stomach.

  "Here." Bakel stopped outside a door. The same colour as the rest, it was secured with a heavy bolt as long as his arm. "It's designed so a toucher can't unlock it from the inside. And sound proof so a singer can't escape either."

  "They've thought of everything," Emmin muttered.

  "Trial and error," Bakel corrected, "haze only knows how many reasoners died to build this place."

  "Not enough," Emmin grumbled.

  "Someone's coming," Daven said, hearing footsteps from somewhere inside the holding.

  "Haze," Bakel swore. He slid the bolt across with gritted teeth. It moved without protest, and with minimal sound. He opened the door and ducked inside, followed by Emmin. Daven hesitated, knowing the unbolted door would be noticed almost immediately.

  With a silent apology, he closed the door, slid the bolt back into place and darted up the corridor. He found an open door and hurried inside. This room contained only a bed, which he hid behind as a pair of reasoners passed, boots sending echoes as they went. They kept going, not even pausing, but his heart was beating so loudly he was sure they'd hear it.

  He waited until they'd disappeared, hurried back to the door and unbolted it again. As he opened it, he prepared to evade a blow from Bakel or Emmin. They'd might assume he'd run, and was a reasoner coming to discover their presence.

  "What the haze?" Emmin didn't strike, but her face was red with fury.

  "Saving your behind," Daven said, "you're welcome. We should get out of here." He looked past her to where Bakel crouched beside an old woman. Her eyes were glazed, expression blank.

  "Get in here," Bakel hissed, "close the door."

  Confused, Daven complied. "Who is she?"

  "My mother. I need you to heal her."

  "I—" Daven started to shake his head.

  "Try." Bakel wasn't ordering him now, he was begging. This was what they needed Daven for. The reasoners had broken this woman, and Bakel thought he could fix her again.

  "Minds are . . ." he caught Bakel's expression, even in this gloomy place. "I'll try."

  He stepped forward and placed a hand on the woman's arm. She flinched. That was a good sign; there was still someone alive in there, someone responsive. Licking his lips, he focused on the magic and took a breath, trying to draw it and search this woman's mind.

  "I don't think—wait." He found a point in her mind where something had snapped, like a broken bone. "I can try this, but she may not thank you for giving her back the memories or whatever she's locked away." Leaving her broken might be more merciful.

  "Do it, and hurry up," Bakel urged.

  "Fine, here goes." With a twist, Daven pulled the pieces together and joined them, fusing the pathways into place. The woman gave a jolt, throwing off Daven's arm and began to weep.

  "Mother? Mother!" Bakel drew her into his arms. He rocked her and stroked her back. "We need to get out of here. Do you understand, Mother? We're taking you out of here." Whether she understood or not, Bakel helped her to her feet and led her to the door. He pushed it open and they staggered out, Emmin right behind them. Without a backwards glance, the man helped his mother to the doors leading back out, to safety.

  He must, Daven reflected, have waited years for this moment; to find the right healer to help her. No wonder he was bitter and filled with hate. If that was his mother, he'd do anything to get her free.

  "Haze, they're coming back," Emmin hissed.

  She was right. Footsteps headed toward them from the direction the two reasoners had gone. He pushed her toward the doorway and walked faster.

  The reasoners rounded the corner and one gave a shout.

  They broke into a run.

  Daven shoved Emmin out of the door and caught sight of Bakel's mother, looking at the world in wonder. She'd been through enough. Bakel took her arm and propelled her forward.

  Daven slammed the door shut, ignoring Emmin's look of dismay, and turned to face the reasoners.

  Chapter Nineteen

  A hot breeze caressed Kaida's face. The shade did little to dispel the heat. The south section of the rooftop was the only place with any shelter, and it was minimal. Once, the overhang had been bigger, but time and weather had crumbled parts of it away. Even when new, it was large enough for only a few people. Apparently, whoever built the hall hadn't considered that the draakin might sit outside. Or perhaps they'd left the area open to make more room for the dragons to sun themselves. Even on the hottest days in the middle of summer, they'd lie out here and bask.

  She glanced over at Dashka, who looked half asleep, her face turned toward Nehko, the back of her head resting against the wall. Whatever she'd seen on the day she'd bonded him, it had had a profound impact on her. She spent a lot of time deep in thought, a worried furrow on her brow.

  A dozen times in the last month, Kaida had opened her mouth to ask her about it. Each time, she'd stopped short and closed it again. Today though, curiosity gnawed at her. At the very least, she wanted to reach out to her.

  "You know, you don't have to talk about it, but if you do, I'm here to listen." There, she'd said it.

  "I could say the same to you," Dashka said, opening her eyes the rest of the way and regarding her.

  Kaida sighed. She too had much on her mind and hadn't spoken about it either.

  "You're referring to Del?" she asked, although the question was rhetorical.

  "I saw your face when you found out he'd left," Dashka said, "but you were so quiet about it I didn't want to intrude."

  "Of course." They'd been thinking the same thing about each other. Maybe it was time to clear the air. Only, she wasn't sure what she thought about Del's departure. She'd taken one of her rare visits down the manufactory, planning to ask him if he heard anything from Daven. She was certain he hadn't. If he had, he might not tell her anyway. She'd steeled herself for an argument, but it hadn't come.

  Instead, she'd stepped in the door to find everything rearranged. For the first time since she'd been here, the place was tidy and organised. It was about time Del had done this. Whatever triggered it, she was pleased. Until she walked into the small room he'd used as an office.

  No sign of him remained at all.

  "Can I help you?" a voice asked, polite until she turned around, showing her draakin pin. Then the man's face looked guarded, even hostile. "Do you have business here?"

  "I was looking for my . . . for Del Issel. He works here."

  The man must have been new, she'd never seen him before and Tsaisa was small enough that she knew many of the residents on sight.

  "Not anymore he doesn't," the man replied, "he took a job in Paryos. Left three . . .four days ago."

  "Oh." Haze, that long and she hadn't known? "He didn't leave a note behind?"

  "What's your name?" the man asked.

  "Kaida."

  "Ah. No. He left one to a Daven." The man shrugged. "Friend of his?"

  Kaida knew what he was implying; Daven might be the name of another lover, one she was unaware of. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Daven is his son. Our son."

  "I see," the man said, "well, he didn't leave anything for you. Now, this isn't a safe place for those who don't work here, so if you don't mind." He took her by the elbow and led her toward the door.

  She jerked away from him and raised her chin. "I know the way, thank you," she said, giving him a dignified look. Let him talk about how uppity draakin were, she wasn't going to take nonsense from him.

  "Best you take it then," he said, "Del won't be returning." Which she understood was another way of him telling he
r not to return either.

  "Thank you," she replied, "you've been . . . helpful." She gave him a haughty look and headed out the door before it could sink in that Del had really gone and hadn't even said goodbye. He owed her nothing, of course, but it still stung. He'd been a big part of her life for so long she couldn't imagine him not being around at all.

  "What is there to say?" she asked Dashka, "he left. He had no obligation to speak to me. Perhaps it was best he didn't. We might just have ended up in another fight. It's a clean break this way. He can get on with his life, and Sarev and I can get on with ours. We don't have to worry about bumping into Del anywhere around town or having him give us disapproving looks. Or argue every point just because he could. Or . . ." She sighed and felt tears prickling at her eyes.

  "What he did to Daven changed him," she added softly. "I think it broke a piece of him inside. He always tried to be so honest, so obedient to the law, never putting a toe out of place. But then when he told the reasoners about Daven . . ." She shook her head, "I think that was a step too far, even for him. Daven was the one thing in the world he was proud of. And he took that and threw it away. Justifiable or not, he can't take back what he did."

  "You think it troubled him that much?" Dashka asked. "Wasn't he angry before?"

  Kaida snorted softly. "Once, long ago, I couldn't even imagine him being angry. The years changed him. Me bonding Risper, his work, then this; it's all piled up. I shouldn't be surprised he left."

  "I apologise, but I'm not sorry he did," Dashka said tartly. "He upset you."

  "He wasn't always like that," Kaida said. "Although it's probably past time I stopped defending him. He's more than old enough to make his own mistakes and take responsibility for them." She pitied him in some ways. He'd been so wrapped up in his own righteous indignation he'd missed out on making memories with Daven. Perhaps she should hate him, but she couldn't bring herself to. She would, however, never forgive him. Knowing he'd never forgive himself gave her no comfort at all. The whole situation was a mess.

  She cocked her head at Dashka. "We were supposed to be talking about you. You changed the subject."

  Dashka smiled. "Yes I did, didn't I? Do you feel better having shared your thoughts?"

  "I suppose I do, but what about you? Something you saw troubled you. If you don't want to talk about it, I understand, but if you do, I'm a good listener." Having a dragon was a huge learning experience, especially for someone whose life had been as sheltered as Dashka's. Not that long ago, she'd been scared of the creatures. Now she was joined, mind to mind, with a beast older than any other living thing in Dargyn. Sometimes Kaida felt overwhelmed herself, and she'd been with Risper for years.

  Dashka shifted uneasily, her gaze turning to where Nehko lay sleeping, twitching occasionally as he dreamed. Risper, lying close by, did the same. Kaida had asked him once what he dreamed about, but he claimed he couldn't remember. She hadn't pushed the matter, in case he preferred not to think about it during his waking hours. She knew some people thought dragons were just big animals. They might be surprised to learn how complex they really were. Perhaps it was better they not know. Enough people feared them as it was.

  "I saw Ara Lucretia," Dashka said softly, "and General Sandvaal. I saw the Dragonwars, and afterward. So may people died, and the dragons helped."

  Kaida reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze. "The dragons have all seen and done a lot. Much more than we could even imagine. And yes, some are events and people they'd like to forget, but it's important we know,"

  "Uncle Huberth used to say that if we don't look into the past, we'll make the same mistakes they did back then."

  "He was right," Kaida agreed. "As much we both know that most magin are harmless, we don't want them to create armies. And we know from history that while the dragons might help to end a war more quickly, the price is high. It would have been higher without them though."

  "So if there's another war, you and Risper would fight it?"

  Kaida hesitated. "I doubt it would ever be that simple, but to saves lives, we might. Ara waited a long time to lead the dragons to fight alongside the general. Had she done it sooner, things might have been very different."

  "You don't think she was right to wait?" Dashka asked.

  "I don't know," Kaida admitted, "but it's something to consider if it ever happens." She licked her lips before asking, "Was there more?"

  Dashka looked toward the ground. "The reasoners were her idea. Well, sort of. She said there was a need for more reason. Then General Sandvaal made them. If not for her . . ."

  Kaida shook her head. "She might have given him the idea for the name, but I'm sure he'd have set them up, regardless. In the days after the war, Dargyn needed stability. They provided that. And a lot more, but I believe that was the intention."

  "What about now?" Dashka asked, looking up, eyes wide.

  Kaida glanced around in case anyone had ascended to the rooftop without her knowing. "I think," she said slowly, "at times they can be somewhat overzealous, but Dargyn has known peace for so long. Perhaps it's worth the price." She averted her eyes.

  "You don't think they're doing the right things?" Dashka sounded breathless. That wasn't surprising given the dangerous nature of this conversation.

  Kaida looked back up and licked her lips before she spoke, "Catching and executing innocent people because they can do magic? No, I don't think it's right. But it's the way things are. All we can do is keep our heads down and try not to be noticed too much. And go where they send us without argument." Even if doing so was against her better judgement. Refusing to do as they were asked wasn't worth the trouble they'd bring down on their heads.

  "Have you ever thought about leaving?" Dashka asked, breaking through her thoughts.

  "Leaving Dargyn?" Kaida frowned.

  "Yes," Dashka looked at her fervently, gaze intent on her.

  She took a breath and inclined her head. "Many times. But then I remember that there's nowhere else to go."

  "There are other countries," Dashka argued, her eyes bright with enthusiasm for the idea. "Lots of them according to Uncle Huberth's maps. Some aren't even that far from Dargyn. Maybe we could fly over there and see. Maybe they'd want to have draakin and dragons, we might be—"

  "We might," Kaida said, cutting her off, "but Dargyn is my home. Even if we're not wanted, I don't want to leave."

  Dashka's face fell. "I didn't mean to offend you."

  "You didn't," Kaida assured her. "Trust me, I've had this conversation with myself a thousand times and it comes back to the same thing. The Dragonhall is where dragons are meant to be. Haze, you never know, Dargyn might even need us again some day." She caught Dashka's disbelieving look and shrugged. She didn't blame the younger woman. She'd spent all her life hiding what she was to the world. She'd been abandoned by her mother, lost her aunt and found herself here. Her whole life had been turned upside down. It was only natural that she'd try to find where she fit into all of this. Kaida would never tell her, but she was still trying to work that one out herself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Kaida chewed her lip. "I'm not sure her bonding was the best idea." She slopped hand lotion onto her fingers and started rubbing it in. Apart from soothing aches, it was becoming a ritual to soothe her nerves. "I'm not sure she's taking to it the way I hoped."

  Risper planted his nose in the gap at the top of the stairway leading from the rooftop, his slitted eyes regarding her. I remember when you bonded me. You weren't sure you'd done the right thing for a long time.

  It hurt to have him remind her of that. "That was different." She rubbed a little harder.

  Was it?

  "Of course it was. My marriage was falling apart, my son needed me, and my father had just died. Everything in my life was a mess." Having a dragon in her mind, occasionally speaking through her, had been disconcerting to say the least.

  Do you think it would have been different if Del had supported you? he asked.

&nb
sp; "Yes . . ." She started to answer but stopped. "I'm not sure. Possibly not, but it didn't help that he didn't."

  I doubt there has been a draakin in history who took to the bond immediately, Risper said, it's a process of learning and adjusting. It's not easy for us, either.

  "It's not?" That was the first time he'd even as suggested as much.

  Of course not. Every mind is different, and there is much we can't see until we bond. There are always—surprises.

  "Bad ones?" Kaida wasn't sure she wanted to know.

  Sometimes, he replied, people can keep thoughts buried deep for many reasons. Sometimes they've done things they're ashamed of, or they know secrets best kept hidden. Once we bond, we see much of that.

  "Have you ever bonded anyone and regretted it?" She licked her lips, hoping he wouldn't admit regret at bonding her.

  He snorted, sending a burst of hot air and musky scent down the stairway. I do not regret bonding you, Kaida dear. But no, I don't regret anyone. If a person were truly a bad fit, we'd know before the bonding. Killers, for example, can't keep that hidden from us. They have a unique mind. It's like— He searched for the words. An unsavoury smell.

  "Do magin smell?" she asked without thinking.

  Not of anything bad, he assured her, Nehko wouldn't have chosen Dashka if she did.

  "I suppose not."

  You should not worry for her so much, he admonished, she will be fine. She already knew that the reality of being a draakin wasn't romantic. That puts her far ahead of many who bonded us in the past.

  "Not romantic," Kaida echoed, "that might be the understatement of the century. Was it ever?"

  In the early days perhaps, when draakin were ranked side by side with kings. No one dared deny them anything.

  "It couldn't be more different now," she said, "but I don't have any regrets. Not really."