The Dragon Wakes (The Land of Fire and Ash Book 1)

by Sarah Dalton

  “Hot,” Luca admitted.

  “Right, because you won’t let it out. You’re forcing yourself to keep the fire inside. It’s there, ready to use, but you’re resisting. Look inside to find the fire.”

  Luca closed his eyes for a second, but Matias was there waiting for him. When he opened them he found himself panting for breath.

  “Relax,” Tania said. It was easy for her. She was always relaxed. There was never a moment where Tania lost her cool composure. Luca, on the other hand, had constant anxiety, restlessness, and the weight of guilt pressing down on his chest. “Loosen your limbs. Shake out your arms and legs.”

  When Luca complied, Geraldo burst into a belly laugh. “The boy’s a donkey!”

  But Tania rolled her eyes. “Ignore him. Concentrate on your breathing. Relax your body and look inside yourself. You can do this, Ludo.”

  Geraldo scoffed. “The little sneak can’t do anything. The little sneak is going to fail miserably when the war comes.” Geraldo had been saying that a lot recently. He’d taken to calling Luca a sneak and laughing every time he fell during training. Luca found himself against some formidable opponents: tall, strapping men swinging a blade with dangerous strength. He had gone to his bedroll with bruises and sprains at night, to wake in the morning and do it all again.

  Luca did not care. He liked the pain. He deserved it.

  “Attack him, Tania,” Geraldo commanded.

  “He’s not—”

  “Attack!”

  A jet of water hit Luca in the chest, knocking him off his feet. Tania called the water back and held it in a ball between her hands. Luca pulled himself back up. She had pulled all the water from his jerkin and trousers. He patted himself down in disbelief.

  “Dry as a bone,” Tania said with a wink. She bounced the large whirling ball of water between her hands. “Don’t you want to learn how to do this with fire? Try harder.”

  “Again,” Geraldo ordered.

  Another jet of water hit Luca before he had time to dodge. It left him winded on the compacted soil. He scrambled to his feet and sucked in a deep breath.

  “Again!”

  This time Luca dropped to his stomach and the water streamed above his head, missing by a finger’s width.

  “Nice dodge,” Tania admitted.

  “You can’t spend the entirety of war dodging blows,” Geraldo said. “You have to actually fight. The sneak thinks he can sneak around everything. The sneak will get himself killed that way.” Geraldo smiled as if the thought brought him pleasure.

  Luca balled his hands into fists. The fever was coursing stronger than ever and Geraldo’s words cut too deep. He hated the man. He hated him almost as much as he hated himself. Geraldo was a cruel, vindictive bully and he longed to loose his fire on him.

  “Use that anger, Ludo,” Tania encouraged. “Use it on me. I can block anything you throw at me. I’m water, remember. I destroy fire.”

  But Luca could not shake the memory of the burnt-up corpse on the floor of his chambers. He could not stop replaying that moment over and over in his mind. There was the scent of burning flesh, the feeling of sweet relief, the power that made him strong, that saved his life… And took another. I will never take another life.

  “This time, aim higher,” Geraldo commanded. “Attack!”

  Tania sighed first, but she threw the water at him once more. Luca attempted to dodge to the side, but Tania redirected the water to follow his movements. Instead of throwing him back, the water wrapped around him, encasing him in the liquid.

  Luca panicked as the cool water trickled down his nose and throat. Pure horror filled his mind when he realised that he could not breathe. His arms flailed as he tried to escape the water. He coughed and his lungs burned; he moved in frantic, jerking motions, completely at the mercy of this great, whirling jet of water encasing his face. It seemed to go on for hours until Tania finally called the water back and Luca dry-heaved until his stomach ached.

  “How could you?” Luca shouted. “How could you make me feel like that?”

  Tania avoided his eyes as she bounced the water from hand to hand. “It’s nothing personal. This is the training. We’ve all been through it and it’s tough, but you have to try. It’s easier if you actually attack me.”

  Luca turned his attention to Geraldo. “You…”

  “What?” Geraldo challenged. “What am I, sneak? Again!”

  Luca dodged to the side, but the water chased him. He dropped to his knees, then leapt to his feet. He ducked, and the water ducked with him. He attempted to feign left, but the water encircled him with ease and he was trapped by its whirling, consuming force. He could not breathe. Geraldo laughed heartily as he lost control, flailing his arms again. Even though he knew it achieved nothing, Luca could not help thrashing his limbs, no matter how hard he attempted to stay still.

  “Keep going,” Geraldo commanded.

  Geraldo’s voice was distorted through the water, and Luca’s vision was blurred by the whirling pool before his eyes. His nose filled with the water and it trickled down his throat. There was no way to take a breath and his lungs burned. He choked and choked on the water, falling forward onto the ground.

  “Keep going,” Geraldo commanded.

  Luca realised he could do nothing. His fingers dug into the dirt, scraping his fingernails in the hard soil.

  “No!” Tania pulled the water away from him, leaving a choked and weakened Luca scrambling on the ground. “He’s had enough.”

  “I say when he’s had enough,” Geraldo barked.

  “He was drowning. I won’t murder a boy for you, Geraldo, no matter what you’ve done for me, and for us.”

  Luca felt Tania’s hands on his arms, pulling him up. As he struggled to his feet, Geraldo stormed away from them. When Geraldo was gone, Luca rushed to the tent where Geraldo had stored his iron bracelet. He was unsteady on his feet, and Tania followed him, helping him when he stumbled. The girl had a calming effect on Luca, soothing the fever that burned through him. Water to my fire, Luca thought.

  “You know, it would be much easier if you at least tried in front of him,” Tania said.

  Luca found the bracelet on top of a table filled with training swords. He pushed it onto his wrist and immediately felt the fever dissipate from his body. “I will not. I am too dangerous.”

  “Maybe out in the world,” Tania said. “But not here in the camp. We’re all Menti here. If you think we haven’t all been through this stage then you’re wrong.”

  “What have you ever done that is so bad?” Luca snapped. He could never imagine Tania causing harm to anyone.

  “I almost drowned my parents. There was a flood in my village and I couldn’t control the water power. I redirected nearly all the river water through my village and into my own home. They found my little brother days later, half-drowned, half-starved, and trapped in a tree. People lost their homes and their possessions, all because my water power brought the river to us. My parents almost drowned in their own home when the water broke through our walls. It was all because of me, and I knew it because I felt it. The water found me and it moved around me like I was its leader.”

  “What did you do?” Luca asked.

  “I confessed it to the Prestis in my village. He is the holy man.” She ran a hand through her cropped, curly hair. “He told me what I was. I was Menti, and that was unholy. Mentis are instruments of the Gods we shunned, the barbarian Gods, the ones born of magic.”

  “Even in Xantos? Mentis are outlawed here too?”

  Tania nodded. “They hate us here like they do in Estala. I went crying to my mother after seeing the Prestis, and she sent me here to Geraldo. He took me in, fed me, clothed me. The other Mentis became my family, not my mother and father. You’ll learn that too. Your past doesn’t matter here. We all have one, we’ve all made mistakes. What matters is your future, and you don’t have one unless you learn to control the fire inside you.”

  Reva

  As Reva
tossed and turned in her sleep, she dreamed of scaled skin and wings that stretched as long as a horse. Her husband Francis crawled out of the dirt, his flesh grey and rotting. Ammie lay in his arms, blood seeping from the wound in her chest while Sister Valeria whipped them both. Then Reva opened her legs and out crawled a babe, so monstrous that it could not be called human. It was a snake, scaled and ugly, with a pointed head and a tongue as red as blood.

  Every night the dreams haunted her. Sometimes she dreamed of Luca standing under a hot sun smiling at her with his arms outstretched. But before she could go to him, the sun burned him to ashes.

  She saw her parents die in her dreams. She saw Francis, Ammie, Luca, and everyone she had ever known die. She dreamt of her dead children, the ones who had never taken a breath. She dreamt of them all, and she woke even more exhausted than when she had gone to bed.

  After two days of shivering in her undergarments, and avoiding the staring eyes of the guards, Sister Laurie gave her a new tunic and footwraps. Reva had not had much to do with Sister Laurie, but she did not seem as cruel as Sister Valeria. Reva was at least grateful that she had not had to steal a tunic and face the wrath of Rosa or Sister Valeria.

  After the incident with Rosa and the tunic, Reva had learned more about Rosa. The girl had been in the Gardens for almost five years. Lottie had told her about the little gang to which Rosa belonged, and how they bullied the other prisoners. They were tattle-tales with loose tongues, whispering in the ear of Sister Valeria. And of that small gang of three or four girls, Rosa was the ringleader. Until… Lottie told Reva how Sister Valeria rewarded the other women by bringing them into the Sisterhood. They now travelled Estala finding more women and young girls to bring back to the Gardens. Only Rosa remained as Sister Valeria’s eyes and ears amongst the prisoners. Rosa remained loyal to Valeria in the hope that one day she would become a Sister too.

  Karine had been quiet for days. She worked with Lottie in the towers where she could move slowly without Valeria’s whip lashing out at her. It was best that she stay out of the prying eyes of the Sisters, but Reva missed the sound of her voice. She had become accustomed to Karine’s chattiness, and even come to enjoy it. Since then, Reva had not made any more friends. She was the girl who worked in her undergarments with her breasts exposed. They whispered about her behind her back, and she did not think that what they said was pleasant. But it had all been worth it. She had not only helped Karine, but helped herself. There was a new piece of the old Reva pushed back in place.

  There was a time to be brave and Reva had stepped up during that time. Ammie had known when to be brave, too, and Reva thought of her during the hard times. If only she knew how to be brave in her nightmares, perhaps she could wake feeling well rested instead of exhausted and drained.

  Reva stumbled through her days, her body moving automatically and her mind lost to the physical exhaustion. Sister Valeria followed her almost every day, and gave her extra tasks. Reva had the worst of the jobs: cleaning out the pigsty, emptying the privy, cleaning the chicken coop. She went to her bed roll stinking of excrement from three species of animal. But even as she drifted into her nightmares, she thought of Karine, and she thought of that moment of triumph where she had found a piece of herself.

  One piece. Small and seemingly insignificant, yet large to her.

  Then, on her fifteenth day at the Gardens of Anios, Karine followed her to the pigs.

  “I’m with you today,” the girl said.

  Reva nodded.

  “You’re skinny,” Karine noted. “You wouldn’t be so skinny if you didn’t work so hard.”

  “Valeria watches me wherever I go.” Reva scraped muck out of the sty and pushed it towards the corner as she did every morning.

  “She’s not here today.”

  Reva’s head snapped up from her task. She searched around the side of the sty where Valeria often stood and watched. Then, she let her gaze follow the outskirts of the courtyard, checking every corner, every shadow: the nook by the chicken coop, the doorway to the guard tower, the archways beneath the Sisters’ hall. Sister Laurie was wandering slowly around the yard, nodding to the prisoners. But there was no Valeria.

  “Maybe she grew bored of torturing you,” Karine mused. “After all, you’re taking it far too well.”

  “What do you mean?” Reva asked.

  “You’re doing every task she makes you do, without complaint, and you’re doing it well. It’s a shame you’re completely exhausting yourself at the same time. One of these days you’re going to collapse and never get up. Are you sleeping?”

  Reva shrugged. “Some.”

  “Hmm. Thought so. I’ve seen you toss and turn at night. They don’t look like pretty dreams of knights and summer weddings to me. You’re having nightmares, you’re working yourself to death, and you’re not eating enough.”

  “They don’t feed us enough.”

  “True. I can’t change that but I can help you with the work thing. Stand still. I’ll clean the sty.”

  “But—”

  “Still, Raina. I don’t think you understand what still is. You see, it’s when you don’t move. I think you’ll find that you are moving at this very moment.”

  “Sister Valeria—”

  “Raina, make the most of her not being here! Rest!”

  Reva winced at the name, but she set the shovel aside and moved to let Karine take over. There was nothing wrong with the name Raina but she hated to lie to Karine. Her lips even parted with the intention of telling her the truth, of letting her know her true identity, but they closed again. She could not be that stupid. She could not even utter her real name aloud, though she did sometimes say it in her mind over and over. Reva Avalon. Reva Avalon. Not Unna, not Raina. Reva Avalon.

  For the rest of the day, Karine told Reva stories as she shovelled the pig excrement. They were about Mentis and their power. Some of the stories sounded familiar to Reva. She even saw an image in her mind of her mother sitting on the end of her bed telling her about the water princess of the Insect Isles who created the Swarm Gulf to drown her cheating lover. She had forgotten all about that story, but Karine gave it back to her again.

  “Do you know about the Dragon Kings?” Karine asked.

  “Everyone knows about the Dragon Kings,” Reva said. “Nesra was the last of them, which is why they call the castle Nesra’s Keep.” She refrained from telling Karine about how she had once lived in the same castle.

  “You don’t know everything though. I heard the story from a fire Menti. Fire Mentis know everything there is to know about the Dragon Kings.”

  “Go on then, tell me everything.” Reva had taken to leaning against the sty fence, occasionally shooing away the little pig that liked to nip her toes.

  “In ancient times there were four Dragon Kings ruling Estala, one in each corner of the realm. Ato ruled Banitha, tall and thin as a man, but a grand silver dragon with azure flames when he shifted. Dreak ruled Irrinthia, a pale-faced man with golden hair, and an emerald dragon with great spikes atop his head who breathed fire as yellow as the sun. Then there was Nesra, the King of Kestalon. He was olive-skinned and handsome as a man, but breathed a white-hot flame when in his dragon form, with scales of indigo and black. Finally, Esto ruled Lantha. They say his skin shimmered like copper and his eyes were a deep brown. He changed to a golden dragon whose scales shined like metal, and a bright orange flame.”

  A shiver ran down Reva’s back. She had been born in Lantha. The Fiuryn Coast of Lantha was her home. And at one time, a great golden dragon had ruled her home.

  Karine lifted her spade and tossed pig muck into the cart. Then she wiped sweat from her forehead—smearing dirt on her face—set down her spade, and rested against the handle. “The Dragon Kings had tempers as fierce as their fire. After fighting amongst themselves, the kings decided on peace. They would leave each other to rule his corner of the realm as long as each king left the other alone. Peace worked for a while, until the old hag found them.


  “It was Esto who allowed her onto his council first. They say that the hag saved his son from an accidental death, and the king asked her what she would like most in the world. The hag answered ‘to serve my king with my wits, nothing more, nothing less,’ so Esto allowed her to sit on his council, even though his advisors were against the decision.

  “And so, the hag—who was wrinkled and ugly and had a mouth full of rotten teeth—advised the King of Lantha on how to rule his kingdom. She wormed her way into his good favours with flattery, until King Esto considered her above all others.” Karine paused to cluck her tongue. “He should not have done that, because the hag had plans for him. She had plans for the kingdom. The hag whispered into Esto’s ear day and night about how he was the true ruler of Estala. The other kings were no good. They were poor kings, they let their people starve, they were weak, terrible, despicable. The hag told Esto that Ato should be the first to go. ‘He is a fool,’ the hag said. ‘A cruel fool without friends. You will kill him easily.’

  “Esto listened to the hag. He met Ato in the air and destroyed him with flame. And this act destroyed the peace between the three remaining dragon kings. Dreak and Nesra joined their forces to attack Esto. Despite merging Ato’s army with his own, Esto was still outnumbered, and a bloody battle almost completely destroyed Lantha.”

  One of the Sisters walked close to the sty, which prompted Reva into action, picking up a brush to sweep straw into the pile with the excrement. Karine busied herself with shovelling the muck onto the cart. Reva watched the Sister walk away before she turned to Karine.

  “What happened to Lantha?”

  “Well,” Karine said, slightly out of breath from the work. “As the war ended, the hag left Esto and went to Nesra to tell him that Dreak was building an army led by his son, Prince Arrin, another dragon shifter with ruby scales. She whispered to Nesra as she whispered to Esto until Nesra’s paranoia reached its peak and he launched an attack on his ally, Dreak. Yet this hag was clever, she had already been to Dreak and warned him of the impending attack. Dreak had his forces ready. The armies fought well and hard, and both Dreak and Nesra lost sons. Prince Arrin was murdered at Nesra’s own hands.