The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga

by Josh VanBrakle

  He swore. Sleep would have to wait. Nightraid was doing most of the work anyway, and he’d at least gotten a few hours’ break.

  “Ready, Nightraid?” he asked the horse, loading Minawë into the saddle and then climbing up himself. “Ride with the speed of dragons!”

  They tore through the woods, branches slicing into Iren’s skin. He couldn’t care less. Unless Nightraid absolutely needed a break, Iren wouldn’t stop until they reached the border. He knew that saving Minawë’s life would take everything he had left.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  To Protect Someone Precious!

  Iren raced across the empty plains of western Lodia, the wet earth sending clumps of mud careening from under Nightraid’s hooves. The weather from yesterday had not let up. As the dull gray of the afternoon darkened into night, Iren still couldn’t see his destination. He hoped he’d nearly reached the forest, but in these conditions, it could be miles as easily as yards. He probably wouldn’t see it until he smacked into a tree at full gallop.

  Glancing at Minawë, Iren’s concern grew. More than three quarters of her hair had turned white, and she looked over sixty years old. The pace of her aging had quickened, and she hadn’t woken once since leaving the glade the previous afternoon.

  “Nightraid!” he shouted. “I swear to you, if you make it to Ziorsecth in time, no one will ever force you to do anything again. You can live a free life; you’ll have earned a fine retirement.” He wished he knew Kodaman so that the horse could understand him. The stallion deserved something for his trouble.

  Just then, over the wind, Iren heard an odd whistling behind him. He craned his head in time to see an arrow pierce the veil of evening and strike Nightraid in his right hind leg. Neighing in terror, the wounded horse lost control and stumbled. A second arrow screamed across the plain and struck the stallion once more, this time in the side, barely missing Iren’s calf. In his panic, Nightraid’s legs twisted among themselves, and he crashed to the ground. Reacting quickly, Iren gripped Minawë with both arms. Pushing off with his legs, he flung himself away from the horse to avoid getting pinned under Nightraid’s bulk.

  He hit the muddy plain at a jarring speed. The moment he landed, searing pain shot through his left arm as his wrist snapped. The shock forced him to release Minawë, sending her rolling along the ground.

  Stumbling to his feet, Iren clenched his teeth, striving against a wave of nausea. After the frantic pace of the last few days, though, he found himself unable to cope. Limply, he fell to his knees. He longed for the Muryozaki’s healing power, but his father’s katana was gone forever.

  As he knelt there, the sound of hooves reached him. Seconds later, a form emerged through the downpour. A mighty charger, nearly an equal to Nightraid, rode proudly forward. Pushing his long, soaked hair out of his face, Iren realized the horse bore a familiar person clutching a bow.

  “Balear!” Iren cried. “What are you doing here, and why on Raa are you shooting at me? You could have killed us!”

  Balear stared coldly at him as he dismounted. Walking up to Iren, he barked, “It took longer than I wanted, but I finally found you. I had to stop you from leaving the country by any means necessary. Iren, come with me. You’re wanted for questioning.”

  This had to be a joke. “Wanted?”

  The young soldier’s expression didn’t lighten. “Rondel betrayed us all. She gave away weaknesses in Haldessa Castle and convinced the Quodivar and Yokai to attack. Captain Angustion says you have information about her, so I need to take you to him.”

  Iren tried to get to his feet, but he could barely move at all. “You’re insane!” he cried. “What proof do you have?”

  Balear reached into his leather jacket, pulling out a piece of parchment. Handing it to Iren, he said, “Here’s your proof. Rondel sent this just before we left on our mission.”

  Iren quickly read the letter, his fingers trembling. He couldn’t believe the words. True, Rondel acted spiteful and annoying, and yes, she brutally slaughtered those Quodivar in Veliaf. Even so, she didn’t seem like someone who would betray a city to thugs and monsters.

  Then Minawë’s words about Rondel came back to him. She absolutely could betray a city. She’d already done that, and more, to the Maantecs a thousand years ago.

  “So let’s go,” Balear said. “I’m bringing you back to Haldessa.”

  “Why?” Iren shouted, anger and regret mingling in his voice. “What does it matter now, anyway? Rondel’s dead.”

  Balear was adamant. “Dead or not, the letter implicates you. We can’t take any chances. Look, don’t make this hard. No one’s officially charged you. You’re not a criminal. Just come to Haldessa with me. Answer the captain’s questions, and if you satisfy him that you aren’t carrying out Rondel’s agenda, he’ll release you.”

  Iren considered for a moment, then shook his head. “I can’t come with you.”

  Balear’s expression flared, and he swung his bow. He snarled, “If you don’t, it means throwing your life away. I said you aren’t a criminal, but if you refuse to come, that makes you guilty of resisting arrest. Worse, I’ll have to assume your refusal as an admission of aiding Rondel. That would make you guilty of treason against Lodia. Wanted posters will go up in every town and village in the country. Everyone will know your face and name. If anyone sees you, they’ll execute you immediately. You won’t be able to return to Lodia for the rest of your life.”

  Iren hesitated, uncertain what to do. He was only on this errand because Rondel had pushed him into it. If he defied Balear, he would be giving up everything he had ever known. He would be marking himself for death for the sake of a woman he’d only met a few days ago. It made absolutely no sense for him to resist.

  And yet . . .

  He glanced at Minawë, at her helpless form on the verge of death. Subconsciously, he reached up and touched the spot where her lips had brushed against him the night before, the first time anyone had ever kissed him. He made up his mind.

  “I can’t return to Haldessa with you.”

  Balear’s hand reached for his sword. “Then you side with Rondel?”

  “I don’t know whether Rondel’s guilty or not, but my choice has nothing to do with her.” Iren’s expression turned fierce, and he stared directly into Balear’s eyes as he defiantly roared, “All that matters to me now is protecting the life of someone precious!”

  Balear swore as he dropped his bow and drew his sword. “As you wish, traitor. Prepare yourself!”

  Iren forced himself to his feet, facing Balear’s blade with only his off hand and the Muryozaki’s sheath. He should have felt terrified, but instead a serene calm filled him. His mind couldn’t explain it, but his body knew what to do. “Balear,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” He raised his right hand. Magic flowed into it, smoothly and easily, as though he’d done it a thousand times. White light engulfed his palm. The energy lanced out like a spear, striking Balear and knocking him on his back.

  Turning to Minawë, Iren hefted her onto Balear’s charger with his one good arm and began to climb in the saddle himself. An arrow grazed his cheek. It struck the horse just above the heart, killing the beast instantly. As the horse toppled, Minawë fell too. Her head struck the ground and bounced off the hard earth.

  Iren whipped around and saw that Balear had retrieved his bow. With his last strength before passing out, the sergeant had attempted to shoot Iren from behind. The arrow might have missed its intended target, but in killing the horse, the damage done was just as great.

  Rather than despairing, however, Iren’s will steeled. Minawë needed to get to Ziorsecth. He couldn’t surrender. With nothing left but a desire not to let down this woman who genuinely believed in him, Iren hauled the unconscious Kodama onto his back. He tried drawing on magic to restore some of his stamina, but he couldn’t feel it at all.

  The storm crashed with more intensive fervor, as though nature itself wanted to keep him from accomplishing his goal. Nevertheless he mar
ched on a slow, inexorable trek west.

  He didn’t know if he was awake or dreaming. He wasn’t even certain he was still alive. Minawë’s body pressed against his, limp and breathless. With her on his back, her face rested on his shoulder. Even in this state, appearing as old as Rondel had, she still looked more beautiful than anyone he’d ever known. Though her eyes were shut, he recalled their emerald hue like two tiny forests, strong and frail at the same time.

  He leaned his head against hers and rubbed her fine hair, undamaged despite her many ordeals. Its vibrant green, however, had vanished. All the hair he could see was white. Her lips, too, had lost their fullness and luster. Only now, staring at her lifeless visage, did he realize how much, in just a few days, he’d come to love her. He blamed himself for her misfortunes. If only he’d ridden faster, he might have saved her. If they could have stayed in Akaku just a few more hours, perhaps that would have given her the time she needed.

  Her skin felt cold. It was over; he had failed. Reluctantly, he let her body fall.

  As her face drifted from view, he started. He thought he’d seen a movement in her lips, or perhaps a shred of color in her cheeks. He pulled her tightly to him again, but she gave him no further sign, if indeed she’d given him one in the first place. Nevertheless, that wisp of life, real or imagined, motivated him. Despite the pouring rain, despite the dead weight of her body on his back, and despite his own exhaustion, he would continue until the end.

  He tripped often, slipping in the ubiquitous mud of this vile place. Several times he stumbled not from the wet ground but from his own weakness. In desperation, he set down Minawë, then discarded his shirt, cloak, and even the sheath to the Muryozaki. His load that tiny bit lighter, he hefted Minawë onto his back and continued trudging.

  As Iren became certain he could not take another step, he finally saw, at the limits of his vision, a line of trees. Hope came to him at last. It was the forest! It must be, for in a few more moments he would surely die. With the last of his strength he forced himself under the shield of its canopy. Beneath its boughs he gently set the lifeless woman he’d sacrificed himself for on the ground. His task completed, he collapsed amid the leaves and surrendered to the void.

  Had he remained conscious a few more seconds, he might have seen the Kodama’s hair shift ever so slightly as her body settled, revealing a single green thread that had previously been obscured.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Haldessa Ablaze

  Amroth charged across Lodia on his Quodivar warhorse, pushing the animal far beyond its limits. Foam flew from its mouth, and every footfall slammed with the ominous roar of gathering thunder. He had neither eaten nor slept since Veliaf, but he didn’t care. Every second counted as he raced toward Haldessa.

  He already knew the city would fall. The Quodivar and Yokai would reach the castle long before he could. Amroth hoped not to save the city, but to arrive before his enemies moved on to another target. He wanted them all in one place so that he could test the full range of power that now belonged to him.

  At his hip, he felt the gratifying presence of his new sword, the Karyozaki. With unreserved glee he drew it, the blade glowing red like a beacon. The two concentric rings of symbols on its hilt shone a brilliant yellow.

  He’d waited a long time to gain it. Amroth had seen its power the day Nadav died, and ever since, wielding it had become his all-consuming passion. It was strength absolute, and it was exactly what Lodia needed. That fool Hezna had wasted its magic. The Oni could have conquered Lodia with it, yet instead he’d hidden away in Akaku and let the Quodivar do the work. Now that Amroth owned the sword, though, he would make good use of it. He would carve out a new future for Lodia, one that would guarantee peace for his country.

  He recalled with cold satisfaction the look on Hezna’s face. While Iren’s attack had slain Zuberi, it had only struck the Oni a glancing blow. He’d survived, but he couldn’t move. When Amroth stood before him, the Oni’s eyes had grown huge in recognition. The captain had then plunged his sword up into the monster’s jaw, one of the few weak points in the Oni’s natural armor.

  Once certain of Hezna’s death, he’d plucked the Karyozaki from the Oni’s own claws. Flames had risen around him, threatening to char him alive, but he’d paid them no heed. They’d licked his skin and left harsh burns, but he’d simply stared stoically ahead. Showing any weakness or fear would have caused the dragon to devour him. He knew as much from Nadav. Feng, greatest of the dragons, understood what truly mattered in this world: strength. If you had strength greater than anyone else, you could go unchallenged in all deeds. You could get what you wanted without hesitation.

  At last the fires had reached their fever pitch, and then they’d crashed as one into the Karyozaki, so that the sword erupted in flame. From within the blade, Amroth had felt, rather than heard, a growling bass voice call to him, “Amroth Angustion, you have passed my test. You are the Fire Dragon Knight.”

  He hadn’t smiled. He hadn’t celebrated, even though it represented the pinnacle of years of preparation. He’d simply nodded, as though the dragon had told him nothing more exciting than the time of day, and replied, “Of course.”

  After passing Feng’s test, Amroth had reentered the cavern and hidden the Karyozaki in an alcove off the main tunnel. He didn’t want Balear to know about the sword, not yet. He’d seen how the sergeant reacted to Iren’s magic, and Amroth didn’t need his new weapon giving the soldier any doubts. Instead, he’d waited until the loyal fool tore off after Iren before retrieving the blade.

  Now, as the sun rose two days after leaving Akaku Forest, Amroth crested a small hill and arrived just outside Haldessa. Even though he expected it, the sight still gave him pause. Flames dotted the city, their smoke rising above the castle battlements. The stench of blood and ash reached him, but he didn’t retch. It only reinforced what he knew he had to do. The Yokai and Quodivar had triumphed, using the baths to breach the castle just as the letter had instructed. Amroth wondered if any of the Castle Guard remained alive, valiantly yet futilely attempting to repel the invaders.

  He dismounted, and for the first time since gaining the Karyozaki, doubt entered his thoughts. On his ride here, he’d felt so confident, but now he realized the immensity of his task. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of enemies awaited him within the city and the castle.

  Inside his head, Feng growled, “You have no choice! Set the entire city ablaze! Consume your enemies with their own fires!”

  Amroth wavered. He’d known from the beginning it would probably come to this, but here, at the end, he hesitated. “Feng, how can I? There may still be citizens inside!”

  “The Quodivar and Yokai will kill everyone anyway,” the Fire Dragon replied matter-of-factly. “Whether they die by your hand or your enemies’, they will still perish. You might as well take your foes with them.”

  The captain clutched his open hand to his head. “I can’t!”

  Sharp, hot pain wracked his chest, like someone driving a superheated spear through him. He fell to his knees, crying in agony. Feng roared at him, “Weakling! How could I ever have accepted you? You’re nothing like Nadav!”

  Through the torment, Amroth forced himself to his feet. The face of his old commander reappeared before him. “What would Nadav do,” he murmured, “if he stood here instead of me?” In an instant, the captain had his answer.

  He would cleanse the city with dragonfire!

  Raising his arms, Amroth reached out with Feng’s power to the flames already burning throughout Haldessa. He swung the Karyozaki, letting the full force of his magic fuel them. At once they accelerated and spread, igniting all in their path. Amroth watched callously as they engulfed the city.

  Within minutes, the previous battle sounds ceased. The captain then stretched out his hand, calling to the fires like a god. All the flames died at the same time, but their thick, black smoke lingered.

  Amroth stood transfixed by the damage from his spell. Where Haldessa ha
d once stood, only ashes and the castle walls remained. He’d razed the city to the ground.

  Inside his head, Feng asked him, “Are you crying? Nadav would laugh at you. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The castle’s thick walls preserved its structure, but you destroyed all its finery. Its grand paintings and tapestries, centuries of labor, annihilated in seconds. Even a few you made yourself, correct? And of course, the king and everyone else inside have most assuredly died. You slew them all with your own hand.”

  For a moment Amroth didn’t reply. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When next he opened them, they were dry and glared unfeelingly ahead. “I don’t care.” His voice rang brusquely against the hillside. “Art won’t make Lodia stronger. Neither will feasts or lazy oafs who claim kingship yet sit hidden behind walls counting gold. I haven’t destroyed anything today. I have purified. You and I have cleansed this den of soft luxuriousness. You say I killed Azuluu? Well, what of it? That’s cause for celebration, not mourning. His death means the death of Lodia’s weakness, and the birth of its true greatness. After all, he did name me his heir.”

  Amroth raised his weapon before him, its red body shining at his words. He grinned savagely. “Karyozaki, the Fire Dragon Sword,” he said. “A fitting weapon for the new king of a better, stronger Lodia.”

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Home in the Trees

  Iren had no doubt; he was in Hell.

  He overlooked an expansive plain choked by smoke and war cries. White flames burst from the ground and spurted high into the air. In their midst, thousands upon thousands of shapes clashed, the screams of the dying reaching him even at this distance.