Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1)

by Tamara Shoemaker

  Cedric held his palms close to his face, studying them, and jumped when a great roar split the darkness behind him.

  He whirled, his pulse thundering in his ears.

  A Dragon filled Cedric's vision, scales gleaming with fire. Heat radiated from the beast, and Cedric glanced behind him for a place to hide.

  He could see nothing.

  A moment later he realized the beast was not watching him anyway. From the swirling darkness another Dragon appeared, lurching to stand snout to snout with the first Dragon. The flaming wings of the second Dragon were braced behind its back, and a brilliant spot of piercing light shone through the membranes.

  The second Dragon released the light, and to Cedric's amazement a smooth, burnished egg rolled onto the ground. The puddles dried in the heat of its flames; the grass around it burned, black and wilted.

  The second Dragon's scales glowed brighter than the first one’s. The face was narrower, more elongated, and Cedric realized the beast was a female. The she-Dragon sniffed the egg cautiously before pulling back to allow the first Dragon to do the same.

  A moment later the male beast rolled his tongue beneath the flaming egg and lifted it into his mouth, closing his fangs on either side.

  “No!” Cedric cried. His voice echoed in the swirling, rain-soaked darkness. The father had eaten the egg.

  The Dragons either couldn't hear him, or they ignored him. Instead of throwing back his head to send the egg down the length of his throat, however, the Dragon lowered his head, cradling it on the ground. The she-Dragon lurched to a crouch, her smoky eyes level with her mate's jaws.

  For a long moment the stillness was only broken by the sound of pelting rain. The glowing scales of the Embers were the only source of light.

  Then the male Dragon yawned wide, and the egg rolled between his razor-sharp teeth to nestle gently on the ground. He'd kept it safe and sheltered in his own blazing fire.

  The she-Dragon spit flame on it, and the bronzed shell glowed again in the fire's heat. A moment later she easily tongued it inside her own mouth and stalked into the darkness.

  The male Dragon followed his mate, moving farther away until he, too, disappeared into the mist.

  The rain soaked through Cedric's tunic, which had dried in the heat of the flames.

  * * *

  Cedric bolted upright. The capricious torchlight under the door shed enough light into the cell that he could see the straw heaped up around him.

  He drew a breath of relief. It had only been a dream; he hadn't actually left the cell. The dream had felt so real, though, that he had difficulty reorienting himself to his surroundings.

  Then he remembered Sebastian's decree for his death, and despair settled over him again.

  “It's eerie, that's what it is.”

  Pounding feet ran by his door, followed by a shout down a far corridor. “The Dragons are going mad!”

  Cedric crept to the door, pressing his head against the floor, trying to see out the crack at the bottom. Sure enough, he heard loud roars echoing up and down the halls. Smoke roiled from beneath the dens on the opposite side of the hall.

  “Take a message to His Grace. He'll want to know.”

  “Yes, m'lord.”

  A set of bare feet scurried across Cedric's line of vision, and then more pounding, booted feet arrived. His cell shook with the roars of the Dragons.

  “What on the seven seas has happened here?”

  The first voice lowered. “It all started when His Grace's prisoner shrieked in his sleep. It was like them Dragons were part of his dreams. Never heard such a clamor in all my borned days.”

  The two sets of feet moved off, and gradually, the Dragon roars faded. Low grumblings and bestial mutterings cloaked the halls again while Cedric lay on the stone, his eyes wide in the dark.

  What did it all mean?

  A door down the hallway groaned open. “Make way for His Grace, King Sebastian.” More scampering feet echoed in the hall.

  A moment later a key rattled in the lock, and Cedric sat up, moving out of the way as the door swung open.

  The jailer, Genlich, preceded Sebastian inside, heading to a torch in the wall bracket. He turned with a low bow as Sebastian crossed to the cell's corner, looking around in distaste before finally settling his gaze on Cedric.

  “What is your name, boy?” His cold eyes glinted in the torchlight.

  “Cedric, Your Grace.”

  “From?”

  “The Rockmonster Dwellings.”

  Sebastian showed no acknowledgment of Cedric's words. Cedric imagined the reflection of flames in the King's eyes was real fire, and an involuntary shudder ran up his back.

  “Why am I here, Your Grace?” Cedric asked at last, pushing himself to his feet. A stunning pain hit him in his chest; he sucked in his breath with a gasp.

  Sebastian's eyes narrowed. He paced, his fist resting on a hip, his robe brushing the floor behind him.

  “You were to die at dawn at the mercy of my headsman.”

  Cedric moved his gaze to the narrow slit in the stone wall at the top of his cell. The black of night had changed to pre-dawn gray, and he knew the pearl of morning would be on him before long.

  “Aye, so I had been told.”

  “You will not die this morning.”

  Relief lightened Cedric's spine. “Am I to know why?”

  “Soon enough.” The King raised an eyebrow as he stopped his pacing and surveyed Cedric. “You must pass through the fire first.”

  Confusion swirled through Cedric's mind. What tests would he be set? And why?

  Sebastian was not yet done. “I understand you carry a mark, as do all my people.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “Show me.”

  Cedric turned and raised his arm, displaying the black ink of the Dragon with the notched circle at the top.

  “And yet you were raised with Centaurs?”

  “With a Centaur, Your Grace. My mother was an outcast from her Clan.”

  “So I understand.” The King's eyes seemed almost hungry as he gazed at the mark. After a silent moment he turned away. “And you never made an attempt to reconnect with the Dragondimn?”

  “None until recently.” Cedric shrugged. “My mother died at the hands of the Rockmonsters. After her passing I chose to seek out my own Clan. As you can see,” he motioned around the cell, “I've run into an impediment.”

  Sebastian's facial muscles could have been carved from stone. “I will send clothes for you,” he said at last. “You will live—today. We will see about tomorrow.”

  Cedric bowed. “Thank you, Your Grace.” When he straightened, the door was already closing behind the jailer. Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.

  Cedric stared at the closed door, his thoughts struggling to comprehend Sebastian's strange appearance and even stranger clemency.

  His stomach growled, and Cedric wondered if he would be offered breakfast, since he wasn't to meet the headsman, at least not this morning.

  He turned toward the pile of straw and sat. A key again rattled the lock, and Cedric jerked his gaze upward as the door swung open. A young boy entered with a tunic, a set of leggings, and a gray wool cloak folded over his arm. His other hand held a pair of boots.

  The boy set the clothes down on the stone floor and bowed to Cedric. “His Grace says ye are to be dressed and ready when 'e returns 'ere for ye in 'alf an hour.”

  Cedric nodded, and the boy exited the cell.

  He picked up the tunic, sliding it over his head. He had never worn such a garment before, and the material on his shoulders and chest felt scratchy and hot. He wished he could make do with his soft leather loincloth, but he had seen that no one in this country wore such things.

  He tied the belt, drew on the breeches and then the boots. His movements were mechanical; his mind returned to the Dragon's egg from his dream. He'd felt a pull toward the bronzed sphere, so powerful that he'd
wanted to touch the white-hot shell.

  He still wanted to touch it, to wrap himself around it, to absorb its heat and let the warmth consume him in a thousand tongues of Dragonfire.

  He shoved the heels of his hands against his eyes. He must be going mad.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sebastian

  Sebastian pushed aside the trencher that held his breakfast. “Take it away,” he ordered, and the page scurried into action, gripping the tray between two thin hands and edging out of the room. Sebastian eyed the candelabra that graced the center of his table, his mood growing darker and deeper.

  “You don't wish me to test the boy, Rennis.” He turned to his court counselor, who sat at the end of the table, his wrinkled hands folded neatly on the wood, his white beard spilling over his fingers.

  “I did not say that, Your Grace. I merely suggested that your time might be better spent preparing for the Tournament, which is forthcoming in a mere matter of months. Our spies have brought word of Nicholas Erlane's plans, and time is not your friend in this instance.”

  Sebastian stood and moved to his window. “What think you, Lanier?”

  His general stood at attention near the door of the suite. “Your Grace knows my thoughts on the matter.”

  “And you would have me test the boy.”

  “Aye, Your Grace. I believe it could be a valuable use of your time.”

  Sebastian nodded. “In this case, I agree. Lanier, bring the boy to the Tournament fields. I wish to see what he can do.”

  Lanier bowed and turned for the door.

  Rennis stood and bowed as well. “I will retire from your chambers, Your Grace, if you no longer have need of me.”

  Pricked pride rang in the man's voice. Sebastian nodded his dismissal. Rennis rarely agreed with him on many issues anymore. Perhaps it was time to dispense with him.

  * * *

  The air was crisp and cool as Sebastian clamped his thighs firmly around his horse's back, urging the animal into a gallop as Lanier and his men rode beside him.

  The fields stretched before him, each one separated by a thick hedge or a rock wall. When he'd had the Tournament fields built, he'd required his architects to arrange arenas with varied topography. Some of the fields were just that—a level square of land devoid of any interruptions such as trees, rocks, ditches. Other fields boasted all manner of layers—hedges, caves, trenches. The diverse creatures that competed in the Tournament each year needed an assortment of fields to show their truest talents. In the center of the many fields, like the cog of a massive machine, sprawled the biggest arena, covered with an arched roof and housing stands that had the capacity to seat thousands of guests. The structure competed with the palace for size.

  Far down the row, a mass of armored men wrestled a Dragon leashed with at least thirty heavy ropes into the Dragon field. The beast was covered with spikes from head to toe, and even a brush from one of the spikes would cause a painful death as the quill's poison spread like liquid silver into the entire body. Absolute stillness delayed the end of life, but without the proper medication, death was a certainty for those punctured by a Dragon quill.

  As soon as that Dragon disappeared behind the high stone wall that bordered the field, a second appeared from a tunnel, one of Sebastian's few prize Embers. He pulled his horse to a stop as the huge animal stalked toward the field at the end of several chains.

  These Dragons had not achieved psuche with a Dimn yet, and ordinarily, they should still be with the Dragon Clan, but Sebastian kept a few of the wilder Dragons at the palace to test some of his soldiers—to give them practice for the battlefield. These were two of his fiercest.

  He thought regretfully of the escaped Mirage from the Dragon Clan's keep. He should have had the Dragon brought directly to The Crossings. As it was, irritation at the Clan's incompetence filled him. He'd had the keep's overseer tossed from his position; a stand-in had been sent to replace him, but in the meantime, Sebastian had lost the only Mirage his Dragondimn had ever caught.

  As soon as the Ember disappeared into the training field, Sebastian urged his horse to a gallop again, flanked by Lanier and five of his most trusted military advisers.

  He dismounted at the viewing platform and hurried up the stairs. His men followed him.

  “What outcome do you hope for, Your Grace?” Lanier asked as he rested his hand on the stone railing before them.

  “It's obvious, isn't it?” Sebastian turned to the field, his biggest one aside from the covered arena, and his most challenging as far as topography. The Ember crouched against the stone wall at one end. The Poison-Quill roared on the opposite side, thrashing in the center of his ropes like a maypole gone mad. One long, loose chain anchored each Dragon to a wall on each side to discourage flight. The armored men had scattered, scurrying to the exit, and the Dragons were left alone to roar their outrage to the world. Their thunder filled the air, and Sebastian wished for a muff to bind his ears. He glanced at his general. “If there is one who can subdue such beasts, think of what we could do against Nicholas Erlane, and beyond, to the rest of the known world?”

  The general's eyes glinted as he watched the Dragons. “Aye, very true, Your Grace.” He hesitated. “But are you convinced based on last night alone that the boy is such a one?”

  “That's what we're here to find out, is it not?” Sebastian raised his arm to one of his guards at the entrance to the field. “Bring him.”

  The man bowed and motioned to more guards who stood in the tunnel behind them. The doors opened again, and the youth, Cedric, appeared, raising his hand to block the glare of the blinding morning sunlight.

  “Will Your Grace allow him any bodily protection?” Lanier asked.

  Sebastian took in the boy's thin wool tunic and breeches tucked into knee-high boots. The clothing would offer him no protection against Dragonfire. Of course, if the boy were truly Dragondimn, he would resist the flames, at least for a time.

  Sebastian raised his eyes to the boy's face, and the past stabbed him in the gut. “Why would I do that? It would ruin the point of this exercise.”

  At Sebastian's signal the guards grasped Cedric by his upper arms and led him toward the training field. The boy's expression grew increasingly nervous as the Dragons shook the ground beneath them.

  At the entrance the guards released Cedric's arms. One of them pointed into the arena, speaking with the boy. The auburn sheen of the boy's hair gleamed in the sun, reminding Sebastian, once again, of years past.

  The guards turned away, and Cedric squared his shoulders, stepping into the field.

  Sebastian leaned forward eagerly, but the boy seemed hesitant. A path led downward into a canyon stretching clear to the other side of the field, lined with steep rock walls and pocketed by divots deep enough to hide a man. A rocky ledge ran the field's edge from corner to corner. If the boy chose to follow that path, it would take him directly to one Dragon or the other.

  “Do you think that he'll actually do anything?” Lanier asked as he leaned on the railing. “It appears the boy is stuck in mud.”

  Indeed, Cedric hadn't moved. “He's transfixed by fear,” Sebastian growled. “Gustav!”

  One of the guards at the entrance glanced up. Sebastian motioned to the boy. “Motivate him.”

  Gustav bowed and reached for the whip that circled his shoulder like a long black snake. Cedric's attention was entirely on the two monsters, but he screamed when the tongue of the whip snapped across his shoulder, flaying his shirtsleeve and throwing him to the ground.

  “Move, boy!” Gustav roared.

  Cedric scrambled to his feet, stumbling down the path through the middle of the field. The Dragons hadn't noticed the boy yet, but it would only be a matter of time. And once they did, Sebastian wanted to see the boy's instincts.

  Cedric reached the deep center of the field, his head upturned to track the Dragons above him. He looked around and found one of the divots in the wall.

>   “No, don't hide, boy,” Sebastian growled. “This is not meant to take all day.”

  “He needs time to think, Your Grace. You did not warn him of what he faced today.”

  “Aye, but there is no time to think on the battlefield. When a mace swings at your head, you duck. When a Centaur charges you with a broadsword, you clash your metal with his.”

  Lanier nodded. “Very true, but he may come up with something yet.”

  Just then the Ember spotted the boy. With a roar, the beast tried to fly, but the heavy chain inhibited the creature's progress. The Dragon compensated with a sideways roll off the shelf where he sat, leaving a burning, charred mass of grass behind him. He climbed down the steep ledges, face first, until he reached the far end of the field where he could see directly down the path that half hid Cedric.

  The Ember opened his mouth and poured out a massive fire stream that swirled down the pathway and subsumed Cedric in its licking yellow-black plumage.

  Sebastian leaned forward, his eyes straining through the roiling smoke. Something akin to relief bubbled in his stomach when he saw the boy clinging to the divot, his clothes smoking, but otherwise unscathed.

  The Poison-Quill took offense at the nearness of the Ember, and his chains clanked loudly as he scrambled toward the other huge beast. The two Dragons met in a shattering roar. The Poison-Quill threw himself into the Ember. Quills and flames burst in a sky-high cloud.

  Sebastian ducked as some of the quills tumbled through the air to land dangerously close to the observation landing where he stood.

  The quilled Dragon lashed its long tail toward the Ember, but the tail got caught in the trenched pathway where Cedric hid. Cedric was trapped inside his cave, and the straining tail flopped perilously near the boy.

  When the tail pulled upward, Cedric took his opportunity, springing from the divot and up the path in the opposite direction, away from the lashing tail as it bore down on him again. He cleared it in time and scrambled up the path to the wall's edge. Now both Dragons had caught sight of him.