Dragonjacks: Book 1 - The Shepherd: A Dragons of Cadwaller Novel

by Vickie Knestaut

  “Hey,” Halton said, raising his palms before himself, “that’s what Brath says. He says he’s seen it himself. That the mother feeds steel and flint to her whelps. I’m just warning you. He really takes offense if you don’t believe him.”

  Tyber shook his head and looked to the shadows and trunks along the path. A pool of still water waited ahead of them. It mirrored the dark leaves above. Beyond, a small patch of white flowers with three petals grew low to the ground.

  The urge to turn and look for Rius through the trees pressed at Tyber. Just a glimpse of those brilliant blue scales through the dark trunks would make him feel better. Leaving her behind was unsettling. It seemed unlikely that harm would come to her. Gurvi was there with her, and dragonjacks couldn’t take a dragon that was bonded. But the deeper he wandered into the murky woods, the farther it felt he was getting from Rius and his training.

  He paused and looked back.

  “Tyber?”

  Halton had stopped. He stood along the path and stared back at him.

  “Sorry,” Tyber said as he caught up. “I thought I heard something.”

  Halton looked back along the path as well, then shook his head. “You’re hearing things. There’s nothing out here. And no one would dare touch your dragon while I’m with you. Sirvon wouldn’t stand for it, and no one wants to cross Sirvon.”

  Tyber started to ask if Sirvon had a nickname, but that’d be too obvious. He kept his mouth shut and pushed on toward a shack near the bank of the creek.

  Chapter 12

  When they reached the shack, Halton knocked. A curtain was pulled aside, and a weathered face peered at them through the glassless window.

  “Whaddya want?” the man asked.

  “Brath sent us,” Halton said. “Wants you to set this guy up.”

  The man looked Tyber up and down. “With what?”

  “He’s going to make us a drawing compound.”

  “A drawing compound? Really?”

  Tyber folded his hands behind his back and tried his hardest to look relaxed.

  “Come on. I got silver. Brath said he’d be good for anything more that this guy needs.”

  The man sneered through the window. “And what’s the difference between Brath’s word and fish dung?”

  “Come on, Koff. I have ten strips to spend.”

  “Copper?”

  “Silver.”

  The sneer slid from the man’s face. He dropped the curtain back into place, and a second later, the door opened on creaking, leather hinges. A man with rumpled, gray hair and an unshaven face stared at them from above the folds of a dark, coarse robe that hung loosely from his shoulders as if thrown on with haste. Wiry chest hairs and a concave belly peeked through a gap above the robe’s sash.

  “Well,” the man said as he looked Tyber up and down again. “What is it that you need?”

  “This is Tyber,” Halton said. “Tyber, this is—”

  “What is it that you need, Tyber?” Koff asked.

  Tyber’s mouth fell open. He’d practiced on the flight out. Had an entire list of things he wanted to buy whether they existed or not.

  “Well?” Koff asked, then rubbed his finger under his nose and sniffed loudly. “Ain’t got all day. If your tongue’s stuck, I got some fefflewort that’s good for that.”

  Tyber nodded. “Really? Fefflewort?”

  Koff nodded, then wiped his hand down the front of his robe. “I see you don’t need it, though. Which is good.”

  Tyber shuffled his feet then looked around, hoping to convey impatience. “For starters, I was hoping to get a bunch of mottled thrush weed.”

  “Thrush weed?” Koff asked, his head moving back on his neck in surprise. “Ain’t got none of that. What about miner’s thistle?”

  Tyber shook his head. “No. It’s thrush weed that I need.”

  “What for?”

  “The drawing compound,” Tyber said. “I was told you’d have the ingredients for one. Do you? Or should we take our silver elsewhere?”

  “Take it easy. Drawing compound. Hmm,” Koff rubbed at the bottom of his chin. The scratching of his whiskers underscored the silence of the woods around them.

  “What does miner’s thistle do?” Tyber asked. “I’ve never heard of that.”

  Koff cocked an eyebrow at him. “Miner’s thistle? You’ve never heard of miner’s thistle?”

  “You’ve never heard of thrush weed.”

  Koff nodded. “Fair. Where you from, anyway?”

  “The mother city.”

  Koff squinted and looked to Halton. “Did he say the mother city?”

  Halton nodded.

  “Surely you can find an herb scrounger between here and the mother city. Why, I’d think you’d have one on each corner. What are you doing out here?” Koff peered hard at Tyber. The corner of his eye twitched.

  “Long story,” Tyber said, crossing his arms before himself. “Have you got what I need? Because I’d rather not fly all the way back to the mother city to spend my silver.”

  “Fly?” Koff looked him up and down again, then back to Halton. “You brought a hordesman to my home, you dolt?”

  “No!” Halton said with a shake of his head. “He’s not a hordesman. I swear.”

  Tyber held his breath. His heart hammered as Koff studied him. Finally, a sly smile spread across the herbalist’s face. He nodded slowly. “Yes, well, I can see right through you, young man. But if you’re looking for black lace, you won’t find any of that here. I don’t touch it. I won’t. Lost a son to it. Nothing in here is forbidden,” he said, sweeping his arm back into the dank shadows of his cottage. “You want something for a drawing compound, then I probably got it. Except thrush weed. Describe it to me, and I might even have it. They got peculiar names for things out in the mother city.”

  “What do you have for a drawing compound, then?” Tyber finally asked with a sigh, trying to sound exasperated.

  “Drawing compound. Hmm. Seems to me then that you’d be interested in things low in the wet humors and high in the fire humors.” He rubbed at his chin again. “What are you hoping to draw out?”

  Koff turned to Halton as if he’d said something. “The dragon plague? He thinks he can fix the dragon plague? Him?” He pointed at Tyber.

  “Please,” Halton said. “It’s bad. Pendro is in bad shape. She can’t even stand anymore.”

  Koff let out a low whistle and shook his head. Off in the distance, a bird whistled the exact tune, as if mimicking.

  “This one ain’t no dragon healer, though,” Koff said, shaking his finger at Tyber. “He’s a hordesman. Hordesmen don’t know nothing about drawing compounds, herbs, or any of it. They only know killing and the King’s empty words.”

  “He was in the academy, but he left,” Halton said. “His alpha was killed. His dragon absconded. But he was busted for theft before that. Stole a purse.”

  Koff turned back to Tyber, his eyes roving over him once again.

  “Bah! He ain’t no thief. No more than you, Halton. Stealing takes a thief. Getting caught only takes an idiot.”

  “Come on,” Tyber said, turning to Halton. “I’ve had enough.”

  He started to turn away.

  “Wait!” Koff called out. “Come on. Get in here. I ain’t going to sell you anything the King forbids. Don’t matter to me if you’re a hordesman. Silver is silver.”

  Tyber took a deep breath. His temples ached slightly, and his eyes felt strained. The woods smelled dank and awful. Not as bad as the city in the summer, but still full of rot and damp. It felt like death was something Tyber could wipe off his arms like a mist.

  “He’s not a hordesman,” Halton said, and it sounded like he was trying to convince himself of that more than anyone else.

  “I don’t care if he’s King Cadwaller himself. If you’ve got silver to spend, then I got whatever it is you can spend it on.”

  Tyber turned back to Koff and Halton. A breeze shook the tops of the trees above, but didn’t
reach down into the trunks. Small patches of sunlight swayed across the forest floor and then disappeared.

  “Show me what you have for a drawing compound,” Tyber said as he stepped back to them.

  “This way, then.” Koff motioned for Tyber, then stepped back into his cottage.

  Tyber followed him into the shadows, avoiding the watchful gaze of Halton.

  Waiting for his eyes to adjust to the gloom didn’t accomplish a thing. Koff moved about the room, ducking and twisting like a strange bird, circling a table, examining shelves along the wall. He shoved the curtain out of the window, and the feeble light of the forest fell inside as if too tired to stand on its own. He cupped a bunch of dried stems and leaves hanging from the ceiling by a string, nodded once, then drew a small knife from a pocket in his robe and cut them loose.

  “Maiden’s last night,” Koff said as he held the stem and dried leaves out to Tyber. “You’ve heard of that, right?”

  Tyber nodded as he took the herbs from the man.

  Koff smiled. “Of course you have. Who hasn’t?”

  He turned away and crouched by a cabinet. The folds of his robe fell back and revealed his knobby knees, along with thin shins and bare feet that looked as if they were permanently caked in mud. He pulled out a clayware jar and stood.

  “This,” he said, holding the jar up for Tyber to see, “this is some potent stuff. You could kill a man with this. But a dragon will withstand it. Mutter’s fire. You heard of it, right?”

  Tyber shook his head.

  Koff’s smile grew. “Ah. So you can say an honest thing. I’ll give you a pinch of it for a strip of silver. You’ll want to cut it with something. Lard. Or if you got a better kind of poultice in mind.”

  “I need enough to treat several dragons. Half a dozen.”

  “Half a dozen?” Koff raised his eyebrows and looked to Halton, who hung his head. “I don’t think you had any miraculous recoveries.”

  Halton looked back to him and shook his head. “We lost a few. Hordesmen.”

  Koff nodded knowingly. “Who?”

  “Parry. Marls. Seth.”

  “Seth?” Koff said with a sneer. “May he rot.” He spat to the ground at his side.

  “Now,” he went on. “You want enough to treat half a dozen dragons, you’re going to need more than this. But I can’t tell you how much. I’m not a dragon healer, I just deal in their wares. I think three strips will get you enough to treat six dragons.”

  Tyber shook his head and folded his arms behind his back.

  Koff’s face lit up in surprise, the lines on his face lightening. “No? You going to haggle with me?”

  “I’m going to pass. You’re trying to steal Halton’s money.”

  “Am I?” Koff said, drawing the jar closer to his chest.

  “You don’t have anything in here for dragons. You deal in herbs for humans. You said yourself that stuff would kill a man, so why would you have it, then?”

  Koff smiled, sly and slick like something that would be found in the muck of the swamp outside.

  “You’d be surprised how many things can be healed with a poison. Jilted lovers. Family riffs. Only one’s imagination provides the limit.”

  Koff turned away and crouched to return his poison to its cabinet. “But selling poison isn’t against the King’s will. Just black lace.”

  “What’s black lace?” Tyber asked.

  Koff looked over his shoulder, then stood slowly. “It’s an herb. There’s a fungus that grows out there in the woods. On the trees. After certain kinds of weather. The fungus itself is said to grow from the cracks left after the fall of the pheedris. It is the place where dreams collect before falling out of this world. And some fools, impatient for dreams, have discovered they can make an elixir with this fungus. Foul, foul stuff. Like a demon’s bile. But like everything in this world, there is no moment of joy to be had without paying for it twice over with suffering.”

  Koff approached a rack of shelves that leaned so severely to one side it was amazing it stayed upright. There, he picked up a basket, shook it, and something inside rustled like dry leaves, but heavier. He looked at Tyber. “You’ll be needing a… quarter cup of these, for sure.”

  “And those?” Tyber asked, looking down his nose at the basket filled with something dark that reflected shards of light as it fell through the window. “Tiker berry?”

  “Tiker berry? Ha. No. Dried nymlin.”

  He held the basket out to Tyber. The light had been catching on tiny, translucent wings. The basket was filled with dead insects.

  “What else?” Koff placed the basket on a table and began to inspect more of his wares.

  Tyber glanced at Halton. He stared down at the basket of insects, his gaze intense and far away. He swallowed, but did not blink.

  “Ah! And you’ll want some of this.” Koff crouched, then stood with a pail dangling from his clutching hand.

  “I notice you didn’t bring anything in which to carry these items back with you.”

  Tyber crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m accustomed to dealing with city merchants, not backwoods scavengers.”

  “You mean you’re used to getting had.” Koff nodded. “I could see that a mile off. Before you even entered the woods. No matter. I’ll send you home with what you need. You have the silver, after all.”

  He thunked the pail on the table and continued to make a slow round of his cottage, adding items to the pile, no longer inviting Tyber to take a guess at what it was. Finally, after dropping a small, burlap sack to the table and announcing it Wifflan’s rough, he turned to Tyber. “That’ll take care of your silver. Now…” He spread his hands across the table and grinned. “Do you want to mix your compound here? I will charge you only for what you use, and for a small pail in which to carry it away. If you want to carry away the ingredients unprepared, then I will provide you with whatever you need to carry them away, but at a greater charge.”

  Tyber took a deep breath. He eyed the ingredients. The truth was that he had no idea what most of it was or what to do with it. And though it would cost more, he had better walk sooner before giving Koff even more reasons to doubt his story.

  “I’ll take the ingredients and go.” He looked up to Koff. “Unless you want to pay me to teach you how to make a drawing compound.”

  Koff’s smile widened. He wagged a finger at Tyber. “I was wrong about you. You’re not as big an idiot as I took you for at first. But you’re still a terrible liar.”

  He waved a hand at the contents on the table. “I think I can divide these up into three separate containers. And you want enough to treat a half dozen dragons? I’ll make sure you have enough, and a little extra.”

  As soon as Koff bundled everything up and handed off a box, a pail, and a burlap sack, Halton handed over the strips of silver. Koff smiled, weighed the silver in his palms, and held it up to the window.

  “Tell Sirvon that I hope good health finds him and his dragons,” Koff said to Halton.

  Halton nodded, then picked up the pail and the burlap sack. He looked at Tyber, then started for the door. Tyber swept up the box of dried nymlin and tarsoot seed and hurried after him, glancing back at Koff.

  “Come back anytime!” Koff called as he stared at his palmful of silver.

  As they stepped out of the cottage, Tyber looked around, squinting as if he expected to feel blinded after leaving the dank place of shadows. But the woods remained thick and heavy. Small dapples of sunlight dropped to the forest floor as if waiting for someone to pick them up. The water in the creek chuckled, and a thrush chirped off in the distance, repeating the same three rising and falling notes followed by a liquid trill.

  “That was… different,” Tyber said. “I’m not used to dealing with men like him.”

  Halton watched the path ahead of them. “Do you have what you need? Can you do it?”

  Tyber nodded, then shifted the box under his arm. “I think so. I think I have everything I need. He didn’t have wha
t I expected to find, but I think I got some adequate substitutions.”

  Halton turned to Tyber, his gaze hard and piercing. “Don’t lie to me.”

  Tyber studied the path ahead. Even in the dim shadows of the woods, his treacherously honest face would give him away. “I think I can. I’m not sure. He didn’t have everything I wanted, but like I said, I think I have—”

  “Gurvi means everything to me,” Halton said. “And it’s not just all that hogwash about dragons and their riders, all that mystical junk that the bards tell about the bonding. She was my brother’s dragon. And I need her. She is all I have left. So, Tyber…”

  Halton shook his head. “Don’t lie to me. I don’t know what your game is, who you’re trying to fool or why, but don’t you lie to me. If you can’t help Gurvi, then say so. Say so now.”

  He took a small step forward, and for an instant, Tyber thought the man was about to throw himself to his knees to plead.

  “If you can’t help Gurvi, then don’t pretend. Don’t do that to me. On your own dragon’s name, on Rius’ name, don’t do that to me. There’s nothing I have done that is worth that. If you can’t help her, then go on. Just leave. Take your friends and go and I’ll tell Brath that… It doesn’t matter what I tell him. If you can’t help Gurvi, then just get out of here. Go now. Because if you fill me with hope, but leave me with a dead dragon, then by the eyes of the gods above, I am swearing that I will kill you, Tyber. So tell me now. Tell me the truth.”

  He hefted the pail and sack before himself. “Can you help Gurvi?”

  Tyber looked from the man’s fierce brown eyes to the burlap sack dangling from his fist, swinging slightly with the weight of its contents.

  What in the wilds would he do with all of this stuff? How far could he carry this ruse? Even if he actually was a dragon healer, could he help Gurvi and the others?

  He took a deep breath. The irony of the situation sank sharp and painful teeth into him. A petty crime against the kingdom had put him in this situation. Now he was being asked to lie, to deceive, and maybe even harm dragons all in the name of the King.