Call of the Dragon

by Jessica Drake

  Not that I could blame her. I had hoped I was wrong, too.

  “You…what?” Captain Marcas was stunned. “But I thought that was an old legend!”

  “It is an old legend,” Tavarian said dryly. “It also happens to be true. Now,” he said, pinning me with that soul-searing gaze of his, “you three are going to come along, and you’re going to explain to me what this foolishness is all about.”

  I thought about resisting, but several other guards stepped out of the shadows, nipping that thought in the bud. I’d done enough killing for tonight, and there was no point in fighting any further. It was clear that Tavarian wasn’t trying to resurrect the dragon god, and he wasn’t the one who had tried to kill me.

  But if that was the case, then why did he have that piece of heart?

  Captain Marcas had our hands bound, and we were bundled into a cart waiting at the top of the hill. The long ride back to the estate was dead silent, the tension in the air thick enough to slice with my dragon blade. The weapon pressed uncomfortably against my thigh, where I’d hastily secured it with a leather strap. The blades were bound up with some cloth, but I knew that wouldn’t work long term. I needed to get it a proper sheath.

  Finally, we made it back to the estate. I thought we would be ushered into a parlor room, but the three of us were separated. Captain Marcas took Jallis, one of his subordinates took Rhia, and I was left with Tavarian in his study, the two of us staring at each other over his desk.

  “Sit,” he commanded.

  I did so, grudgingly.

  “Speak.”

  “Is this how it’s going to be?” I demanded. “I have to tell you everything, and meanwhile you’re not going to explain why you have a piece of the deadliest dragon this world has ever seen lying around on your property?”

  “How I came into possession of the heart is less important than why you are looking for it,” Tavarian said. His voice was hard, his eyes glittering with impatience. “How did you know I had it?”

  “I sensed it the last time I was here, when I was doing those exercises you taught me.” I felt a flash of guilt as I remembered how patient he’d been with me, how kind. And how had I repaid him? “I was able to envision it, so I knew exactly what it was.”

  “Yes, yes, I surmised as much,” Tavarian said. “But very few know of the legend, never mind the heart itself. I have been thinking about this the entire ride back, and I can only surmise that you recognized it because you were already looking for it the first time you came to my estate. The first time you tried to steal from me.”

  I swallowed, looking away.

  “So, I was right,” he said softly. Silence stretched between us, my heart pounding painfully in my chest. What was he going to do to me? Was he going to have me expelled? Would Captain Marcas throw me in jail after all?

  “Tell me why.”

  Defeated, I told him everything. About Brolian, about Salcombe’s offer, about the supposed auction, and the passage I’d read in Jallis’s library. About how I’d sent out a false advertisement for the piece of heart and had nearly gotten killed for it tonight.

  “Unbelievable.” The anger was back, carved into the lines of Tavarian’s face, blazing in his eyes. “And you didn’t think to come to me? About any of this?”

  “How could I have?” Tears burned at the corners of my eyes, and I pushed them back. “I had no idea who I could trust. Salcombe was so sure it was you, and—”

  “Salcombe has been lying to you this entire time.”

  The statement wasn’t exactly a revelation, and yet my mind still rebelled. “How do you know that?”

  Tavarian was silent for a very long time. “If I tell you this,” he finally said, “you will have to swear a blood oath that the truth never leaves this room without my permission.”

  “A blood oath?” Goosebumps raced up and down my skin. “What does that mean?”

  “It means what it sounds like.” Tavarian pulled a dagger and hovered it over his palm. “Will you consent?”

  I stared at the blade shining dully in the moonlight. The idea of cutting my skin open and swearing an oath wasn’t exactly appealing, but I knew this was non-negotiable, and I needed answers. Besides, how binding was a blood oath, really? I wasn’t planning on breaking it, but it wasn’t as if I would die if I did.

  Would I?

  “You won’t die if you break the oath,” Tavarian said grimly, and I jumped. “But you will wish that you had.”

  “Great,” I said, sarcasm thick in my voice. But I didn’t really have a choice, so I held out my hand. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  Tavarian didn’t hesitate. He sliced his palm open, then grabbed my hand and did the same. I hissed as the blade bit into my flesh, and gritted my teeth when we gripped hands, as if we were doing some kind of bloody secret handshake.

  “Do you swear that whatever secrets I divulge to you, both today and on any other day in the future, will never spill from your lips without my permission?”

  “I do.” I glared at him, then said, “Do you swear that whatever secrets you tell me that are bound by this oath will be truthful, with no attempt to deceive or mislead me.”

  Tavarian smirked. “I do.”

  The moment he spoke the words, a flash of light enveloped our hands. I yelped as a searing pain rippled across my palm, and yanked my hand back to see the cut had completely healed, leaving a faint white scar in its place.

  “There.” Tavarian wiped his blade and hand with a handkerchief. “Now we are bound by the oath, which can only be broken upon pain of death.”

  “How…how did you do that?” I sputtered, still staring down at my hand. There was no way that simply pressing my wound to someone else’s wound and saying some words out loud was enough to do this. “This is—is—”

  “Magic,” Tavarian finished.

  “But how?” Puzzle pieces began to fall into my head, but I was having a hell of a time putting them together. “You’re a dragon rider.”

  “Yes. My father was a dragon rider, and therefore I am as well. But my mother comes from a long line of mages. Her power was a very well-kept secret—as the last mage of her line, she could not risk anyone knowing what she truly was. But I have inherited that birthright, and when my mother finally left home, she begged me to carry the burden that came with it.”

  “The piece of heart,” I said numbly. “It’s yours by right.”

  “Yes. This auction that your friend Salcombe speaks of never happened. The idea that someone would put such a powerful object up for auction is absurd anyway,” he added with a frown.

  In my heart, I had known that. And yet, to accept that… “It’s Salcombe,” I said heavily. “Salcombe is the one who tried to kill me. He’s the one after the pieces of heart.”

  “The evidence does seem to suggest that,” Tavarian said gravely. I expected him to berate me for believing Salcombe’s lies, for falling in with him, but there was no judgment in his gaze. “Have you noticed anything different about him recently? Any change in mannerisms or attitude?”

  I thought back to my last meeting with Salcombe. “He was in a really good mood, which is unusual for him. And he looked healthy. He’s been sick for years,” I explained at Tavarian’s quizzical look. “He told me he found some kind of potion that could help him.”

  Tavarian’s eyes flashed. “Maybe so, but it is entirely possible that he might have a piece of the heart already.” Abruptly, he pushed back his chair and stalked to the door. “I must speak to Captain Marcas about this immediately.”

  “Why?” I rushed after him. “What are you going to do?”

  But Tavarian didn’t answer, and I didn’t need him to. There was only one way this was going to end—with Salcombe in chains, and the piece of heart, if he did have one, confiscated. And there wasn’t a damned thing I could do to stop it.

  18

  Tavarian refused to let me accompany him and Captain Marcas to Salcombe’s residence, but it didn’t matter. Somehow, S
alcombe had gotten wind that they were coming, and he’d already fled by the time they arrived. They’d combed the city for days looking for him, questioned me extensively about possible locations that he might have fled to. I gave them the locations of the apartments and villas Salcombe owned both in Elantia and various countries around the world, but I knew Salcombe had many more. I’d only stayed in a handful of them during various trips and expeditions, and I knew Salcombe wouldn’t go to any of those now.

  He had well and truly disappeared.

  “Is it wrong that I’m glad they haven’t caught him?” I asked Rhia as we walked the gardens. I’d gotten into the habit of taking my lunches out here—in the mess hall I was constantly swarmed by cadets who were either trying to become my friend or trying to get me to do something for them. I’d become something of a celebrity over the last couple of weeks, and the unceasing attention was growing insufferable. “Even though he tried to kill me?”

  “No,” Rhia said. She stopped by a flowering rhododendron bush to watch a hummingbird flit between the bright pink blossoms, stealing bits of nectar here and there. “He might have betrayed you in the end, but he was the closest thing you had to a father. It’s tough to let those feelings go, no matter what he did to you.”

  I nodded, my gaze turning skyward. I hadn’t heard from Tavarian aside from a terse letter I’d received yesterday updating me on the manhunt for Salcombe. I had half-expected him to send for me when he’d returned to his estate, but I suppose I couldn’t blame him for not wanting to see me.

  And yet, even in his anger, Tavarian still made my life better. Rather than locking me up at his estate, he’d gotten my suspension lifted at the academy so I could continue my training. He’d even dealt with Aria, who had been suspended, pending a full investigation into the matter. Overall, I should be happy that things were finally going my way, that I finally had the answers I’d been seeking.

  But as I lay in bed that night, staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but feel that I was still missing a piece of the puzzle.

  A tap at my window broke through my muddled thoughts, and I looked up to see a carrier pigeon perched on my sill. My heart sped up, and I rushed to the window to take the scroll tied to his leg. Was this another update from Tavarian? Had Salcombe been found?

  No, I thought as I unrolled the scrap of parchment. This wasn’t Tavarian’s handwriting. It was a message from Captain Marcas.

  Miss Kenrook, the message said in a hasty scrawl. Urgently need your assistance locating an object. Might help us find Salcombe. Meet me outside the armory. Time is of the essence. – Marcas

  I jumped from the bed, my mind racing as I pulled my clothes on. What sort of object was Marcas talking about? How would it help us find Salcombe? The message didn’t make much sense, and I worried that it was some kind of trick. But I couldn’t very well ignore it, so I took my new dragon blade with me as an extra precaution.

  “Lessie?” I called as I approached the armory, my senses on high alert. Considering the last attempt on my life, I thought having a dragon as backup wouldn’t be a bad idea. But Lessie didn’t answer, and when I pushed, all I got was a wall of black. She was dead asleep. A shiver crawled up my spine—usually Lessie answered me no matter what the time of day. But she’d been tired when I’d come to tuck her in tonight, barely able to keep her eyes open. Maybe she was hitting another growth spurt.

  “Captain?” I whispered as I circled the building, looking for him. But he wasn’t there, and my stomach began to twist itself into a knot of fear. Was this some kind of set-up? I gripped my dragon blade tight as I searched the shadows for an enemy.

  “Lessie,” I called again, nervous now. “Lessie, wake up!”

  I finally felt Lessie’s consciousness stir, faintly, as if she was dragging herself from a deep slumber. But before I had a chance to be relieved, something whizzed through the air, and I twisted to the side just in time to avoid a feathered dart. It made a humming sound as it hit the wall, and I hissed as a second one struck the side of my neck, hot pain stabbing me.

  “No!” I whirled in the direction the darts had come from, raising my weapon. But my vision was already starting to blur as my attacker stepped out from behind a tree. Or was it two men? Three? They wore dark robes, with hoods pulled up over their faces, weapons hanging from the sashes at their waists.

  “Bag her,” a deep voice ordered.

  I slashed as one of the hooded figures approached, but my depth perception was off, and my strike went wide. Laughing, he kicked me to the ground, then yanked the blade from my hand.

  “Zara?” Lessie’s voice was sluggish but tinged with panic. “Zara, what’s happening?”

  I tried to answer her, but my mind was already fading. I was barely conscious of someone tying my hands behind my back, and when the bag finally came over my head, I was gone.

  19

  “Is she awake yet?”

  The familiar voice pierced the black fog that cloaked my mind, reminding me that something existed beyond this endless expanse of nothingness. I struggled to push past the blackness, to open my eyes, but my eyelids were heavy, and a headache gripped my temples like a vise.

  “I think I saw her twitch,” another voice said. “The poison should be wearing off soon.”

  “Good.” There was a rustle of fabric, a scrape of wood against stone. “Leave us.”

  The owner of the voice took shape in my mind, and I shivered. Salcombe. My mentor. Groaning, I forced my eyes open, then immediately regretted it as light stabbed daggers straight into my skull.

  “Ah,” Salcombe said pleasantly. “You’re awake.”

  I cracked an eye open to look at him. He was seated in a comfortable armchair next to the fire in a well-appointed room. The view out the mullioned window to his right told me that we were on the second floor of what I assumed was a house.

  “Where am I?” I demanded, tugging at my bindings. I was seated in a chair that was decidedly less comfortable than his, my arms and legs bound to it. “Why have you kidnapped me? Did you decide murder wasn’t good enough or something?” I was furious.

  Salcombe laughed, his eyes glittering in the firelight. There was madness in the sound, and it sent a chill through me. “You have the gall to ask me that, after you betrayed me? After you told Tavarian about me despite swearing an oath that you would not?”

  “You sent four thugs to try and kill me,” I spat. “And you lied to me about Tavarian. What did you expect?”

  “A little trust,” Salcombe sneered. “A little loyalty, after all I’ve done for you. I did not realize it was you who had put out that advertisement, so the attack on you was not personal. I would have called it off had I known. Not that it mattered, because you killed them all, didn’t you? With your shiny new toy.” He spun my dragon blade in his left hand.

  “Thanks,” I said, sarcasm dripping from my words. “I feel a lot better, knowing that the hit you put on me was an accident.”

  Salcombe shook his head. “It saddens me that it’s come to this, Zara. I raised you up from the filth you were born into, gave you every advantage, every opportunity. And the moment someone else comes along, you turn around and betray me.”

  He rose from his chair, and fear skittered through me as he towered over me. There was no mistaking it—power rolled off Salcombe in waves, an energy and vitality that was far from natural. I opened my senses, and was immediately assailed by that familiar bell gong, that powerful signal that I’d only ever felt from one object.

  “That’s right,” Salcombe said, reading the look on my face. “I already have a piece of the heart. But one is not enough to cure my disease, nor is it enough for me to exact my revenge against the dragon riders who so gleefully cast me out of their society. I will collect all of the pieces, and once I have resurrected the dragon god, he and I will be able to wrest back control of the dragons once and for all.”

  “Cast out?” My mind scrambled for these new puzzle pieces, and I tried to fit them together wi
th the picture forming in my mind. “You…you were a dragon rider?”

  “I could have been,” Salcombe spat, “had the egg I had set my sights on not been stolen by another. But that does not matter now—the World Eater has promised himself to me in exchange for my service. The two of us will soar through the skies together, and the entire world will kneel.”

  Yep. That was definite madness gleaming in his eyes, infusing his voice with zeal. “Salcombe,” I said desperately. “Think about what you’re saying. Zakyiar isn’t going to let you ride him. The moment you resurrect him, he’s going to kill you. He won’t have any use for you anymore.”

  “Ah, but that is where you are wrong.” Salcombe gave me a smug smile. “Zakyiar needs me in order to subjugate the dragons. He needs someone with dragon rider blood to sever the bonds that prevent him from controlling them.”

  “You’re an idiot if you believe that,” I snapped at him. “A selfish, conceited, power-hungry idiot. You’re no better than the dragon riders themselves.”

  Salcombe’s face mottled with rage, and he punched me. Stars exploded behind my eyes as my nose crunched beneath his fist, and I cried out as my chair rocked back, smacking into the wall behind me. Blood gushed down my face, my chin, coating my tongue with copper. I blinked tears of pain from my eyes.

  “You bastard,” I choked out.

  “I have heard enough,” Salcombe said in an icy voice. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and used it to wipe the blood from his hand. “I did not bring you here for conversation, or to bandy about insults with you. I brought you here to trade your life for the piece of heart that Tavarian has on his island.”

  I glared at him. “Tavarian isn’t going to give up the heart for the sake of my life.”

  “No, but he might do it for the life of your dragon,” Salcombe said with a wag of his finger. “If you die, it dies, remember?”