Kinna willed herself to stare into his eyes without flinching. “Yes.” Her voice wavered, and she mentally upbraided herself.
“You'll tell Tannic if I don't.”
Kinna said nothing.
His silver eyes flattened to a dull gray. He backed up and folded his arms over his chest. “Fine. What are you planning?”
Kinna glanced about the room, searching for answers from the dark corners. “Well, I guess we need to go let the Dragon out of his den, and then ... release him.”
Ayden gave a harsh laugh. “Yes, that's it, isn't it? Not a problem. Just ... sneak a thirty-span Dragon past any number of guards to the outside entrance, pat the fire-breathing beast on its back and wish it the blessing of the Great Star?”
“Indeed.” Kinna turned for the door, twisting the handle and cracking it open. “Let's hurry.”
His hand came down just above hers and closed the door again. Kinna shivered. The heat from his body behind hers warmed her tunic.
“Not yet, my lady. Best to wait until the dead of night when there are few guards and fewer opportunities for getting caught, imprisoned, and executed.”
Execution! Kinna forced saliva down her dry throat. She dropped her hand and turned, sliding under his arm to sit on his bed. “Of course, you're right.” She smiled tightly. “So tell me about yourself.”
Silver flashed in his eyes, and he looked away. “There's nothing to tell. And apparently, you've already discovered my secret sins.”
The bitterness in his voice shocked her, but he did not elaborate. He stepped closer and reached past her, grabbing his pillow and tossing it on the floor in the corner. “Excuse me, my lady, but I plan to get some sleep.”
He flopped onto the dirt floor and tossed his arm over his eyes. Kinna watched him as he slipped into slumber, the slow rise and fall of his chest marking his steady breathing.
Chapter Six
Ayden
Ayden couldn't fall asleep. His chest moved with the gentle rhythm of deep slumber, but his mind flew from point to point. He saw again the dry, gray cracks as they traced their way through Carn and Band's skin, melting into ash, plummeting into a pile on the floor.
Next the memory of the Dragon's smoky, desperate gaze twisted through his mind. Ayden had felt the beast's inner struggle when he’d led the chained Dragon down the dark passageways to the arena. The creature hated being beaten by Dimn, shouted at by enthusiastic onlookers, and evaluated by Sebastian's generals as the subject of military reports taken back to The Crossings.
Tannic should have done something about the imbecile they'd allowed in the arena with the Dragon. Too many Dragondimn relied on violence alone to control their creatures.
Ayden’s mouth twisted wryly. That was why he was the point of ridicule for the entire staff of the arena. He had a soft spot. He worked hard to hide it, but inwardly, he cringed whenever the maces struck the Dragons, whenever the boys poked stones or swords at the beasts. Was not the whole point of training to achieve psuche?
“Aye, boy, 'tis true,” Tannic had cackled once when Ayden had pointed this out. “But Dragons must be cowed afore they can be tamed, and tamed afore they can be befriended, and befriended afore they can get anywhere nigh to psuche.”
Ayden didn't agree, but he kept his opinions to himself.
He shifted his arm ever so slightly and peered beneath his lashes at the intruder, the flame-haired girl from the loft. She had long since ceased to stare at him. Now her green-eyed gaze swept over the room. Her hands twisted nervously in her lap.
How under the Great Star's glow had she found out about Band and Carn?
It didn't really matter. She had, and now she could command his life, what there was of it. Bitterness tasted awful.
Finally Ayden decided it was late enough. The Dragons grunted in their various dens, but the rest of the keep was silent. Tannic usually made enough noise for ten men as he blustered through the hallways, but at the moment there was no sound of him.
Two guards would be posted at the doors that led to the cobblestone courtyard between the Dragondimn lodges, but Ayden knew those guards. They loved their ale and usually accompanied their time on duty with pocket-flasks.
If Tannic knew about the drinking, he'd have their heads. But he didn't know, and Ayden did, and that was what he was counting on to release the ridiculous beast and the equally ridiculous girl with it, prayerfully never to see either of them again in this life. The Mirage was a rare find as well as a favorite of the King's. Of course the girl had to pick this particular Dragon to release. But if Ayden were completely honest with himself, he would rather release this Dragon to freedom than any of the others. Something about the beast called to him. He'd always hated to see the beautiful creatures in captivity anyway.
He rolled to his feet in a single graceful movement. The girl's head jerked up. She had begun to nod off where she sat on his bed. Perhaps he should have let her rest. He could have removed his glove, carefully run one finger across her cheek...
He slammed a mental lock on the dark thought. “Are you ready?”
She nodded. “Yes. Just tell me what you want me to do.”
“I want you to go home and forget you ever came to this hole. I want you to leave me alone. But obviously, my wishes are not yours at the present, so let's go free the Mirage. Tomorrow, when we're standing in front of Sebastian's headsman, don't say I didn't warn you.”
Her lips tightened, their rich red lightening to pale rose. “That's not going to happen,” she whispered.
He shook his head and turned for the door. “Sure, it's not. The headsmen always listen to red-haired, green-eyed, blackmailing minxes.”
* * *
The corridors were empty, dark, and still. Torches spaced at long intervals cast wavering light into the deep blackness. Despite the fact that Ayden knew they wouldn't be seen, he felt extremely vulnerable as he slid through the dim light next to the girl.
The Mirage's den loomed in front of them, and Ayden laid a gloved hand on the girl's shoulder, pulling her to a stop. He tilted his head to whisper in her ear, careful to keep a distance between her skin and his.
“Tannic will be in his deepest sleep, but even he won't snore through the groan of a door winching into the ceiling. I'm going to have to go very slowly, and you'll need to keep your mouth shut and your ears open to listen for anyone coming. Do try not to get us killed before we even clear the Dragon from the keep.”
The girl's green eyes flashed as she glared at him. “I'm perfectly capable...”
“Aye, well, that's nice. Lower your voice; you're louder than a banshee.”
She lifted her chin, her brows lowering in a stubborn knot. “I wanted to see the Dragon once more. Before he’s freed.”
“Are you delusional?” Ayden stared at her in disbelief. “He's not a pet. He's a big, powerful, dangerous monster who can cook the meat on your tender bones in five seconds flat. And since it doesn't appear that you're from the Dragon Clan...”
He motioned significantly to her shoulder where her tunic had slipped sideways again, and the tip of a Pixie mark traced its way across her collarbone.
She jerked the shirt back into place and scowled. “Fine, oh Great One. I'll go wait at the end of the hall and keep my mouth shut and my ears open.” She stomped into the blackness, though her knee-high moccasins made no sound, and Ayden smashed the smile that the image evoked. He turned to face the door and took a deep breath. It was going to take some doing to get this beast out of here.
The Mirage was sleeping when he pulled the door up enough to enter the den. He could see where the gray eyes should be, but they were encased in reflection like the rest of the Dragon's body.
The steady smoke-tinged breath of the Dragon hissed through his nostrils. The great head lay on the Dragon's forelegs. Now and then, flame licked the gaps in the beast's teeth. Ayden had known Dragons to incinerate the chains that held them by heating them to a molten consis
tency. Then with one flop, the chain would break.
And they have no clue how much power they wield.
He'd told the girl that the Dragons weren't pets. That much was true, but Dragons did have certain pet-like characteristics. They carried a deplorable lack of evil intentions. They could be docile, even playful at times.
He’d seen well-matched Dimn and Dragons before, relationships that had appeared almost frolicsome. He’d seen Dragons who huffed smoke rings for their Dimn to dance through, Dragons who let their Dimn scratch their scales with astounding gentleness.
He remembered his Dragon, Flindel.
Flindel's smoke rings had been tinged with the smell of the summer grasses his pet had insisted on chewing. A visceral ache opened up inside of Ayden. It had been thirteen years since he’d had a Dragon to call his own.
Hatred stirred in his breast bone as he slowly pushed the winch and the door rose with a deep, shuddering groan. King Sebastian had ordered Ayden's Dragon killed when he was a mere lad of eight—just before the coup, when Sebastian had killed King Liam and then folded before Nicholas Erlane's mighty military invasion, fleeing Lismaria for West Ashwynd.
And it had been Ayden's fault.
Ayden had roamed with his Dragon up into the hills on that day when everything had fallen apart. He'd been training the Dragon to hunt for itself, to find the choicest mountain goats or shaggy sheep that grazed on the high, grassy slopes, and Flindel had been improving his technique. Ayden had hoped someday to achieve the elusive psuche with the creature; his mother had told him it would be soon, as connected as the two of them were.
As Ayden had lazed on his stomach, his chin cupped in his hands while he waited for Flindel to finish eating his recent kill, his eyes had narrowed on a disturbance in his distant village.
Tinctum was overrun with soldiers, and even from the hills, in the still summer air, Ayden could hear the shrieks of the inhabitants.
Terror filled his small body; he leaped down the side of the mountain, forgetting to call for Flindel in his haste. He tripped and fell flat on his face several times during his pelt down the hill, but he pushed himself up to keep going. Instinct told him something terrible was happening in the village.
The house he shared with his mother stood on Tinctum's outskirts, and as he drew closer, his horrified gaze took in the licking flames that curled around the thatched roof, wafting the smoke skyward to join the black, floating ashes from the rest of the village.
Soldiers wielded heavy swords on the backs of their horses. The animals' snorts and pounding hooves blended with the villagers' screams as they cowered before the onslaught. Man, woman, and child met their ends in rivers of brilliant crimson. It was a massacre—the innocent destroyed with no warning of attack. Char and burning flesh flavored the air.
Ayden crouched, sobbing, behind a shallow bank, stuffing his arm in his mouth to silence his cries.
Finally, in the relative stillness after the blood-letting, the one with the crest on his helmet slid his visor from his eyes. “Do not dismount, men,” he called, his voice shuddering across the square. “Leave your hoof prints rife over the ground. Remember, we must make it appear as though Centaurs did this work. My brother, Liam, will bring his wrath down hard upon the creatures once he hears word of this, and at that point, our Trolls will be allowed more freedom. We will succeed in throwing the King from his perch on the throne, and then,” he turned his horse, pointing his sword to the sky, “you will all bow your knee to me, King Sebastian, and you will be heavily rewarded for your loyalty.”
The soldiers thrust their swords skyward, too. “Long live King Sebastian!” they roared.
Ayden squinted through his swollen eyes. Up until this point in his life, adults had always been his friends, his protectors. He was confused; he felt the urge to ask for help, but how could he plead for help from the man who was responsible for the death of his mother and his village?
Suddenly, in the midst of the bustle of victory, a huge dark object hurtled past Ayden, blowing right through the center of the square.
It was Flindel. His nine tails thrashed like a writhing tornado; his jaws opened in a massive yawn, teeth closing around any man or horse who got in his way. The spikes of his tail stung, whipped, destroyed, and the soldiers were thrown into confusion.
More screams rent the air. Ayden watched, appalled but mesmerized, unable to look away—until he was whisked onto a horse, the steel muscles of the commander's arm pressing him back against heavy metal armor. Sebastian's sword indented Ayden's neck.
“Dragon!” Sebastian roared. He kicked his horse until the terrified animal stood trembling in the square in front of Flindel.
Flindel saw Ayden and abruptly stopped his attacks. Awareness of Ayden's danger flickered in his smoky eyes, and he didn't protest when soldiers hauled chains from the blacksmith's hut to throw over his body.
Sebastian sat there the whole time, his gloved hand on Ayden's face, directing the boy's gaze to the Dragon as the soldiers chipped the scales from Flindel's torso. As soon as a scale was gone, before it could regenerate, a soldier would plunge a sword into the rawhide, to the hilt. Ayden tried to shut his eyes, to squeeze out the sight of the brutality, but Sebastian’s gloved fingers yanked his lids open. So Ayden saw it all. The screaming beast, the nine tails that struggled fruitlessly to break the chains, the slow agonizing death as the soldiers made a pincushion of the Dragon with their swords.
As the soldiers surrounded the horse on which Ayden sat captive, one of the knights drew his sword from its sheath; the shrill ring of metal on metal slit the air. “Shall I dispatch him, my liege?”
“No.” Sebastian's voice behind him rumbled, rolling like thunder. “I have plans for the boy. Let's see what Nicholas Erlane thinks when this ragamuffin stumbles into the court and tells everyone of the Centaur raid that destroyed his village. As Erlane seems reticent to give me his full trust, it will be so much more effective coming from an innocent lad than from me, will it not?”
The soldier nodded as he replaced his sword in its sheath. “Yes, my lord.”
Sebastian had then whirled his horse, leading the soldiers from the village. Their hoof beats had thundered across the open plain, continuing their circuit of destruction and death through multiple villages before they had returned to the Capital and King Nicholas, leaving Ayden's family, friends, and Dragon behind. All dead.
* * *
“Psst!”
Ayden jerked his gaze to the opening where the door was now fully raised and saw the fire-haired girl in the restless light of the nearest torch.
“I heard something down that hallway.” She pointed. Even her whisper bounced off the stone walls in the cavernous space.
Ayden latched the chain into place, his heart racing as he motioned her inside the den. He pointed to a corner, anger tingeing his thoughts. Was it really worth it? She would tell everyone his secret, spelling his death sentence if he didn't help her, but he would most likely die anyway helping her release a Dragon. Not just any Dragon. Sebastian's prized catch. Black hatred for the King flooded him.
Yes. Yes, it is absolutely worth it.
Instead of crossing to the spot he'd indicated, she stepped back out into the hallway, her moccasins moving silently across the stone to the only torch nearby.
“What are you doing?” he hissed through his teeth.
She whirled, held her finger to her lips, and then turned her back again.
Ayden's gloved fingers clenched in irritation. Maddening girl. She was going to get them caught and then...
She reached the torch and stood on tiptoes to pull it from its bracket. Running lightly back to the den with torch in hand, she submerged the torch in the Dragon's water trough.
Pitch blackness settled over the area. Ayden could hear his breath, the girl's quicker, lighter breaths, and the Dragon's occasional groaning snuffs as he dreamed.
A moment later footsteps curved into the hallway
some distance down, growing closer. Two sets of feet.
“Oy, the daft boy's gone an' left the torch out down this way.”
“Ye reckon 'e's got cotton twixt 'is ears?”
“Aye, er beans. They rattle 'round when 'e moves 'is 'ead.”
They both laughed, and their proximity grew nearer and nearer. If the Dragon awoke... Ayden's jaws cramped as his teeth clamped together.
And then they were past, their laughter trailing down the hallway, their footsteps growing fainter and fainter until the sound of them disappeared altogether.
Ayden released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding.
Turning, he felt his way through the darkness to the opposite wall, his gloved hands stretched in front of him. There was the water trough, and next to it, ah, the torch. He grasped it, spun it in his hand, and then made his way for the Dragon.
“Ayden?”
“Hush.”
She ignored him. Of course, she did. “How are we going to get the Dragon out of here? In the pitch dark?”
“Aren't you mapping the game plan?” Of course he knew how they would proceed without getting caught, but he wasn't going to let her know that.
“I don't know the keep as well as you do.”
“Well, that's your hard luck, isn't it?” He had reached the Dragon by this time, and he lightly knocked the torch against the beast's snout. A deep grunt told him the reptile was responding. He did it again harder.
The rumble of breath shot through the Dragon's lungs, and Ayden waited for the crack of his mouth, the release of hot air.
It came, and Ayden immediately pushed the torch inside, brushing it along the top of the Dragon's mouth. It kindled.
The flame-haired girl stared at him in the torch's variable light. “How did you know how to do that?” she asked, awe dripping from her words.
He shrugged. “I've worked with Dragons for a long time.”
Ayden glanced back at the beast, who had risen to all fours while swinging his head to study the situation. The smoky irises of his eyes flicked from Ayden to the girl and back again.
Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) Page 7
