Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1)

by Tamara Shoemaker

  They came at him from opposite sides, swiftly sliding over the landscape, their talons scrabbling against hard stone and turf. Their breath rippled heat waves from their mouths, and Sebastian could see the end.

  “This is it,” Lanier murmured, echoing his thoughts. “If the boy makes it free from this, it will be no small feat.”

  “Aye,” Sebastian breathed, intent on the boy's burnished auburn hair.

  Both Dragons sucked in massive draughts, enough to wave the hair across Sebastian's forehead as he watched. They were coming—the flames that would roast the boy and bury the spark of hope he'd discovered this morning.

  “STOP!” Cedric's arms flew straight out on either side of him, his palms facing both Dragons.

  They stopped.

  Sebastian's jaw dropped open; the guards who watched the astonishing tableau fell silent.

  The boy had stopped two Dragons locked in full battle mode simply by telling them what to do.

  The boy's back was to Sebastian, but his arms shook visibly. Cedric pulled in another breath. “Back to your corners.” His voice broke in adolescent terror. “Off with you now.”

  The Dragons both lowered their heads, the rumbling of their growls much reduced. Slowly, gradually, they turned away. The Poison-Quill returned to his perch on the ledge in the far corner, but the Ember climbed the stone walls below Sebastian.

  Cedric's head whipped back and forth between the two beasts. He seemed unsure of his next step.

  “Shall we continue, Your Grace?”

  Lanier's words jarred Sebastian from his mind-numbing amazement. Sebastian shook his head. “I've seen enough. Bring him back to my chambers in the palace. I wish to speak with him.”

  “It shall be done.” Lanier bowed, and Sebastian glanced once more at the field where the two giant beasts of terror curled like mewling kittens in their corners. He hurried down the stairs to his waiting horse.

  * * *

  By the time Cedric arrived accompanied by Sebastian's guards, Sebastian had bathed and dressed. He reclined on a couch, a cluster of grapes in his fingers, the very picture of opulence.

  When the boy appeared, Sebastian tossed his remaining grapes to a nearby page and sat up. “Sit,” he commanded. He waved to a wooden chair opposite the couch.

  “I prefer to stand, Your Grace.”

  Sebastian stood and advanced closer to the boy. In Cedric's eyes he saw fear struggling with courage. Which would be the winner? Smothering an inward smile, he rested a fist on one hip, narrowing his eyes.

  “Do as you're told, boy.”

  “Your Grace ordered me here for a conference. I have no wish to be here in your presence. Should you prefer to send me to the headsman, you have every right to order it.”

  Sebastian stood nose to nose with the boy, dismayed when he realized he had to look up to meet the boy's unflinching gaze.

  “I said sit.” His voice remained even, and he wondered if the boy would obey, or even if he wanted the boy to obey. He found his admiration for Cedric's spirit at war with his own propensity to play on the boy's fears.

  After a long, tense moment, Cedric turned to the chair and sat. Sebastian did not believe for one instant that the battle was won. He picked up the decanter in the middle of the table, filling a goblet. “Would you care for a drink?” he asked. “It is the finest mead you'll have anywhere.”

  “Nay, Your Grace.” Rebellion boiled in the lad's eyes.

  Sebastian shrugged and took a long gulp. “I have decided, for the present, to keep your head intact with your body.”

  The boy's hazel eyes gleamed, but his face remained set in stone.

  “Are you not glad of it, Cedric? Only last night you believed that you were to die today, and here I have graciously spared your life. Have you naught to say?”

  Cedric's mouth opened at last. “I find it hard to show gratitude, Your Grace, when the person to whom I should be thankful is the same person who pitted me against two fiery beasts not two hours ago.”

  “I see.” Sebastian raised the cup to his lips and drained it, setting it on the table again. His sword rested on the table, and he ran his finger across the gilded edge of the grip. Then he picked up the blade, handing the sword, hilt first, to Cedric.

  The boy stared at him in astonishment.

  “Take it, boy.”

  Cedric hesitantly grasped the handle. Sebastian let go, and the weight of the sword dropped to the ground with a loud clatter.

  Several of the guards in the room choked back a cough of laughter. Cedric's face turned a dull red. Sebastian worked to hide his own smile.

  “I see we have our work cut out for us.”

  Cedric said nothing.

  Sebastian picked up his sword and returned it to the table. “I have several Dragons in my palace, Cedric. Many of them are not tamed or even close to finding psuche with anyone. I have experimented with several of these creatures, tried to find Dimn for them. Some have been sent to the Dragon Clan and returned with no improvement. As far as I can see, Cedric, they are untameable.” He stopped, allowing his words to settle. “Two of my most aggressive rebels faced you today.”

  “Your Grace, I—”

  “I wish to put you in charge of my Dragons, Cedric.”

  The boy's face flushed, this time with astonishment. “I—I beg your pardon?”

  “I am essentially giving you an entire keep of Dragons, Cedric. I want you to find a way to manage them so that they can be commanded in battle. You may have all the men you require for the job. I've ordered a suite of rooms set up for you near the entrance to the Dragon halls. I expect to see you training daily on the fields, and we shall see what the Tournament brings when you put my Dragons through their most rigorous paces. Kneel.”

  Two spots of high color remained on the boy's cheekbones. “Y—Your Grace?”

  Sebastian sighed as he picked up his sword. “I said, kneel. Are you hard of hearing?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  “Then do so.”

  After a silent pause, Cedric slid onto his knees. Sebastian gripped his sword-hilt, turning the flat of the blade to Cedric's shoulders, first one and then the other. “I hereby pronounce you my Dragon-Master, lord of all these beasts in my castle as well as those in the Dragon Clan. I pledge you to serve me as best you can in this respect and all others.”

  Cedric's eyes looked dazed as Sebastian tossed the sword back onto the table and grabbed another bunch of grapes from the abundant bowl in the middle.

  “I—don't understand.”

  “What don't you understand?” Sebastian bit back the surge of impatience at the boy's utter innocence. “I'm providing you clemency and a title in exchange for practicing your skills with my Dragons. What is difficult to understand about that?” He crunched a grape in his irritation.

  Cedric seemed to be searching for words. He stood once again, his finger rubbing a circle across his breast bone. “I understand you are a Dragondimn as well. Surely the beasts listen to you? After all, you are of royal blood.”

  Thunder roared in Sebastian's ears. “Get out!” he shouted. “Get you to your rooms and do not let me see your face again for a long time!”

  Cedric stared at him. Sebastian was on the edge of charging him like an angry bull before a flapping garment, but after a moment, Cedric calmly exited the room, followed by two of the King's guards.

  Sebastian gripped his temples between two fists, gathering handfuls of his hair. Why must his brother's ghost torture him without ceasing?

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kinna

  Kinna and Ayden did not start their time together in the Rues well at all. She should have expected it; she was intruding when he clearly wanted to be left alone. He obviously hoped to connect with the Dragon, and Kinna knew that he wished she and Lincoln had never come. Still, he could be civil, couldn't he?

  She stood toe to toe with Ayden next to the campfire, heat flushing through her chee
ks, her fingers clenched into fists. “All I did was offer to help. That's all I did, and look at you; you're practically spitting flame yourself.”

  “Why did you have to come?” Ayden demanded. “Now it's distracting; he hardly knows which one of us to focus on.”

  “Why do you think it's such a problem that there are two of us?”

  “Three,” Lincoln helpfully piped up from the river bank where he dragged his feet through the cool liquid.

  Ayden ignored him. “How many Dragons have you heard of that have achieved psuche with two Dimn? Have you heard of any? No, you haven't, and you know why?” Ayden sucked in his breath. “Because it's impossible.”

  “Is that what this is all about?” Kinna shot back. “You're afraid that I'm going to achieve psuche with Chennuh before you? Well, Ayden, last I checked, I'm from the Pixie Clan, so I couldn't achieve psuche with a Dragon anyway.” She jerked the shoulder of her blue tunic to one side, and it only irritated her further that the Pixie mark was already fading again.

  “Yes.” Ayden shook his head and sighed. “I can definitely see how you fit so well into the Pixie Clan, what with your fading mark and your attachment to my Dragon.”

  Kinna whirled and stomped from the circle of light, promptly stepping into a puddle that had collected in the muddy soil. Gritting her teeth, she turned back into the circle and yanked off her boots, laying them close beside the fire to dry. She sat down, stretching her legs near the flames in a most unladylike fashion, shivering a little as she held her feet close to the heat.

  “So that's it, then, is it?”

  “What's it?” His angry silver eyes flashed orange in the flickering firelight.

  “You're jealous.”

  “No, I'm not.”

  “You are. You don't want anyone else to intrude on this special relationship you've got with your Dragon.”

  Ayden remained speechless. Kinna watched the tips of his gloved fingers twist the loose ends of his belt into a knot.

  “Why do you wear gloves all the time?” Kinna asked, abruptly changing the subject.

  “You don't know? But...” Odd expressions chased each other across his face. He shrugged. “They keep my hands warm. I lost one when Chennuh escaped, so I found another pair.” He held up his gloved hands in the dancing light of the flames. “Not the warmest pair ever, but they do the job.”

  The tension passed, especially once Lincoln returned to the firelit circle, and the three of them arranged themselves around the burning embers to sleep.

  The following morning Ayden disappeared over the rocky cliffs to spend time with Chennuh, and Kinna had to admit that she was a tiny bit jealous. Even though she wasn't a part of the Dragon Clan, she had felt such a strong connection with the Dragon in the keep that it had sent her searching for Chennuh after his escape.

  That, and the fact that she would have been pulling down her parents' reputations by staying with the Pixies.

  Lincoln amused Kinna to no end. The Pixie had a running list of jokes that were not funny in themselves, but told by the orange-haired lad's quicksilver tongue, they made Kinna laugh until her sides ached. He had no small view of himself, nor did he bother to keep his high opinion of himself quiet. His whole manner was rather tongue-in-cheek, and Kinna had thanked the Great Star many times over the last few weeks of travel that she had allowed him to come along, if only for the entertainment he provided her.

  He stood now, balancing on one foot on a river rock for the sole reason that since no one had yet done it, it should be done.

  “Some days turn into one days,

  And one days rarely settle for some days,

  Because some days you wish

  You had a no day, and you turn over to sleep again.”

  He hopped to his other foot, his necklace flopping wildly against his chest, his arms windmilling. “Do you happen to have lunch yet, m'lady?”

  Kinna hooked her hair behind her ear and gripped her stick tighter. She waded in the calf-deep water, careful not to dip her rolled up breeches into the liquid, pushing aside rocks and attempting to pull out some of the crayfish that lived in the dark wetness.

  “If you're waiting on me for lunch,” Kinna yanked impatiently on her tunic where it had twisted beneath her belt, “you'll have to wait a long time. These crayfish aren't more than a bite a piece, and I've only found two so far.”

  “One for you and one for me, and that leaves the third of the company to starve.”

  “We'll all starve unless you sing your magic over the fish or something.” She glanced over her shoulder at the high cliff where Ayden had disappeared that morning to spend time with Chennuh, and bit back the spark of jealousy.

  A splash interrupted her thoughts. Lincoln sat in water up to his chest, his eyebrows arched in surprise.

  Kinna bit back the smile that threatened. “You're warm enough to go swimming?”

  “I—I'm actually r—r—rather cold.” Lincoln's teeth chattered. “But I g—got d—d—dinner.”

  Kinna's mouth parted in surprise. All around Lincoln's chest and legs swam a thick school of large fish. They were packed so tightly together that they bumped and jostled each other right out of the water. The ones on top squirmed and struggled to dive below the surface again, but Lincoln quickly flung five of them onto the bank.

  He stood, and the fish fled from beneath the fall of water that drained from his clothes. He sprang lightly onto the shore. “I'll get the fire started, shall I? Perhaps you can persuade his highness to join us for lunch.”

  Kinna glanced at the makeshift box of bark in which she had put the two crayfish she had caught. But now the box was empty. With a sigh, she tossed her stick to one side and stepped out of the water and into her shoes. She liked fish better anyway.

  It took her a while to scale the boulders to the top of the mountain, especially with wet feet. By the time she reached the top, even the soft leather of her moccasins irritated where they chafed her moist legs.

  She pulled to a stop, panting, and surveyed the canyon below.

  Chennuh paced the narrow ridges along the bottom, his mirrored tail swishing against the rocks, sending small showers of pebbles tumbling to the ground with each hit.

  Ayden crouched on a ridge not far below Kinna, watching the beast intently. Chennuh would stop and survey Ayden every so often before continuing on.

  The loose wing dragged on the ground, carving grooves into the earth with each pass. The Dragon snuffed a breath of flame now and again, but otherwise seemed peaceable enough.

  Kinna descended the cliffs toward Ayden where he crouched, his back to her. She reached his shelf and sat beside him. He glanced at her and stood up, folding his arms across his chest, his dark gaze following the Dragon.

  Kinna shook off the irritation. “He's looking a little better.”

  “Aye.”

  “Do you think we'll be able to fix the wing so he can fly again?”

  Ayden shrugged. “I don't know. It depends on how soon I can train him so I can get close enough to reattach his wing.”

  Kinna studied the Dragon, who had stopped and seemed to be watching them. “He doesn't seem that dangerous.” She pushed off her ledge onto the next one down.

  “Kinna, stop!”

  Kinna jerked her head up at the alarm in his voice. He had already scrambled over the ledge and grabbed her arm before she could yank it away.

  “Get back up there.”

  “No.” Kinna pointed at Chennuh. “I want to go do ... whatever Dragon-training techniques you've been doing while I've been hanging out at the camp.”

  “You want to know what I've been doing?” Ayden's grip on her arm didn't relax. Even the soft leather of his glove did nothing to lessen the fierceness of his grasp.

  “What?”

  “Sitting here, staring at the Dragon. For the last two weeks that we've been here, that's all I've been doing.”

  “You haven't ... tried.”

&n
bsp; “Of course, I've tried, but every time I get anywhere close to him, he burns the ledges where I'm standing.”

  “But you led him out of the keep; you helped to rescue him, and you were this close to his mouth.” Kinna held up her finger and thumb about a half an orlach apart.

  “But then he wasn't in pain with a broken wing. And until I can try to reattach his wing, nothing's going to change.”

  Kinna stared at him. He dropped her arm as though it burned him and stepped back.

  Kinna turned to survey Chennuh, who now crouched on all fours, his eyes never leaving the pair of them. “What's he going to eat? Or drink?”

  Ayden shrugged. “Dragons can go several weeks without eating or drinking. But I've been bringing small game each morning.”

  Kinna nodded. Ayden had rigged a makeshift trap that had produced a few squirrels and a rabbit over the last week. The animals had disappeared before she could do anything with them. She, Ayden, and Lincoln had stuck mostly with the fish diet.

  Kinna turned to face Ayden. “Lincoln!”

  A tiny spark of amusement lit his silver eyes. “I'm Ayden.”

  “Obviously. No, I mean, Lincoln could sing the Dragon to sleep!”

  Ayden's gaze turned thoughtful as he glanced back at Chennuh. “That might be a way to get him food and drink without getting roasted alive, but I doubt even the Pixie's magic would keep the Dragon asleep once I started pulling on the wing.”

  “We could at least try, right?”

  Ayden ran his glove through his hair and sighed. “Sure. We can try.”

  Kinna grinned. “Excellent. Lincoln's got fish cooking for us.” She hooked her hands on the next ledge and pulled herself up, rolling onto the rock shelf. A tearing sound split the air, and Kinna felt her breeches rend on a sharp rock. Fire leaped to her cheeks. The tear ran from her thigh clear down to the top of her boot. “No,” Kinna gasped. She glanced up at Ayden.

  “Would you care for some help?” His unhurried attention roved down her leg. One amused eyebrow arched over glinting silver eyes.