The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga

by Josh VanBrakle

  “Like hell it is!” He prepared to slam her into the wall a third time, but Minawë intervened, rushing across the room and grabbing his arm in midair.

  “Stop!” she cried. “Enough! Calm down and let Rondel explain.”

  Iren screamed in her face, “I won’t listen to anything she has to say!”

  From the other side of the room, Aletas said matter-of-factly, “Why not? What can it hurt? You can’t go back to Lodia. They’d kill you.”

  Iren halted, mouth open, as his confrontation with Balear came back to him. In the eyes of Lodia, he’d thrown in his lot with Rondel. He’d become a traitor, marked for life. “Fine,” he spat, releasing Rondel roughly before plopping himself on the bed, his right arm folded over his splint. “But if I don’t like what I hear,” he glowered at Rondel, “I’ll kill you.”

  The diminutive Maantec chuckled. “You can try.”

  Aletas groaned. “Rondel, you’re not really helping.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Rondel conceded, though she sounded far from sincere. “You never did know how to have fun, Aletas. Fine, fine, might as well get down to business. Let’s start with the simplest matter: why I’m still alive.”

  Despite Iren’s best attempts to maintain his fury with her, he had to admit that particular subject made him curious. After all, he’d checked her pulse himself.

  She explained, “You know that I manipulate the lightning in my body. By increasing its flow, I make myself faster and stronger. What would happen if I decreased it?”

  “You’d get weaker,” Iren guessed.

  Rondel half-smiled. “And suppose I stopped it entirely?”

  Iren froze on the bed. “Impossible.”

  “The brain regulates all the body’s functions, even involuntary ones, by electric signals. Turn off those signals, and the body stops breathing, stops blinking, even stops its own heart. For all intents and purposes, it dies.”

  “Except,” Iren found himself muttering, “the brain itself remains alive.”

  “Correct,” Rondel said, “and critically important, otherwise I couldn’t start my signals up again. I’d really die then. Of course, the brain can’t live without air or blood for very long. A high-risk technique to be sure, and I can only maintain it for a few minutes. In this case, though, it lasted long enough. My senses continued functioning throughout my death state. I saw you unleash your beam. I heard you fall and get dragged away by your horse. And I saw Amroth finally reveal himself.”

  Iren frowned, confused.

  “I told you before,” Rondel went on, deducing Iren’s expression. “I’ve suspected Amroth had an ulterior motive from the beginning, but I couldn’t prove anything. I played along with his scheme, hoping he would eventually reveal his treachery. After you left, he did. He came out of the tunnel, fully armed, and marched right up to Hezna. He drew his blade and cut the monster’s throat.”

  “What’s your point? That’s why we went on that mission in the first place.”

  “Only in the most basic sense. Amroth didn’t just want to kill Hezna. He wanted what Hezna had. The moment the Oni died, Amroth took the monster’s sword. You couldn’t have recognized it, but I did. It was the Fire Dragon Sword, the Karyozaki.”

  Iren’s pulse quickened. That Oni had been a Dragon Knight! “What happened to Amroth? Wouldn’t the dragon have tested him?”

  Rondel nodded, her expression ominous. “He did, and Feng accepted him. I don’t have all the details, but I do know this much. Amroth didn’t become the Fire Dragon Knight by accident. He knew what he was doing.”

  Iren sat pensively for a minute before bursting into loud, wide-mouthed laughter. “You’re insane!” he replied. “Absolutely crazy. You don’t honestly expect me to believe this nonsense, do you? You betrayed Lodia to the Quodivar and Yokai, and you think you can cover it up with this ridiculous story? Look, even if I don’t have the letter, I still read it. I know what it said, and I know who signed the bottom of it.” He stood. “I’ve heard enough. Amroth befriended me when no one else would. He rescued me as an infant, and he gave me a chance to avenge my parents. I won’t let you make up lies about him! I’ll kill you, Rondel, and when I carry your corpse back to Lodia, they’ll know I’m not a traitor.”

  Rondel didn’t react. Aletas, however, piped up, “You think that will solve anything? Amroth will still put you to death. He’s planned to from the beginning.”

  Iren rounded on her. “How would you know? This is Lodian business, anyway, and none of your concern!”

  Aletas was unflappable. “It concerns us now, foolish Maantec child, because the two of you came here. Traitors or not, Lodia will see Ziorsecth as harboring you. Besides, I’ve read the letter. It doesn’t implicate Rondel. Quite the contrary, it proves her innocent.”

  “You’ve read the letter?” Iren shook his head in disbelief. “How?”

  Rondel’s grin returned, wider than ever. “Because I brought it here!” With a relaxed stretch, she stood, strode across the room to the bed, and hauled out a traveling pack that had been sitting beside it. Opening the flap, she reached in and removed the letter Balear had shown him, as well as the tattered shirt and cloak he’d cast away.

  “Take a closer look at that note,” Rondel said, handing it to Iren, “and the truth will come to you.”

  Iren read through the letter, but if there was something there other than Rondel’s obvious betrayal of Haldessa, he missed it. “It has your signature, and I recognize your handwriting,” he pointed out. “Remember, I saw you write out that waiver for Amroth at the castle.”

  To Iren’s surprise, Rondel nodded. “Impressive, you picked up on it faster than I did. You’re correct. That handwriting perfectly matches what I used on the waiver. Find anything strange about that?”

  Iren stared at the letter, thinking back. He recalled how Rondel had completed the waiver with exactly these letters. She wrote slowly, painstakingly, her right hand shaking with effort. Realization struck. “You wrote the waiver with your right hand, so as not to reveal your Left identity. Amroth, Balear, and I were all watching you. To write to the Quodivar, though, you’d obviously do that in secret.”

  Rondel smirked. “And if I were writing in secret, why use my off hand? Would I not write with my left hand? It would give me both better penmanship and an alibi should someone discover the letter and ask me to provide a writing sample.”

  With new interest, Iren looked over the note, wondering if it could really be a forgery. He didn’t see how that was possible. Even with Rondel’s blocky characters, no one could perfectly duplicate her handwriting.

  “Do you recall Amroth’s speech the night before we set off on our mission?” Rondel asked. “He mentioned the many great artworks in the hall, and how he’d painted some of them himself. A little thing, but in this case, it explains much. Beyond superb combat skills, Amroth also possesses masterful artistic talents. He can do almost anything with his hands, including copy someone’s handwriting.”

  “To do that, though,” Iren pointed out, “he’d need a sample of your writing.”

  “Ah, but he did have a sample: the waiver. Do you honestly think that bunch of nonsense was a legal document? I’ve traveled Raa for over a thousand years. Lodia has never demanded such a waiver from anyone. Amroth made it up for the purpose of obtaining a complete sample of our handwriting.” She reached into the pack again and pulled out a second sheet of parchment, which she passed to Iren. “The original waivers have conveniently vanished, but guessing that Amroth had some agenda, I memorized what he had us write. Take a look.”

  Iren read through the waiver text. “I, Rondel Thara, do here absolve Amroth Angustion, my Great King and Leader Azuluu, and all agents of the government of the Nation of Lodia and City of Haldessa of any responsibility should I perish on this dangerous mission. I recognize the task’s extreme peril and small window for success, but my desire to bring justice to the Sneaky and Monstrous Enemy of Lodia, the Quodivar, is unquestionable.” Rondel had
also copied the date and her signature at the bottom.

  “Incredible,” Iren said after he’d finished. The old Maantec was right; the document contained every letter of the Lodian alphabet. In addition, when he compared it to the letter to Zuberi, he found that the note only used capital letters also found in the waiver.

  “Amroth said he delivered the waivers to Azuluu’s legal assistant, but he lied. Instead, when he left us, he ran back to his own room and copied my writing to create the letter to the Quodivar. I followed him at a distance, pretending to seek more alcohol, which, by the way, I also found time to get. Once he’d written the letter supposedly from me, he simply placed it with the castle post, more than likely bound for an accomplice in Veliaf.”

  Iren couldn’t believe it. He fell back on the bed. The whole thing — the speech, Amroth telling him about his parents, the mission to stop the Quodivar leadership — was all a sham, all designed to gain Amroth the Karyozaki.

  It all seemed unnecessary though. If Amroth only wanted the sword, there was no need for such deception. He didn’t have to frame Rondel, and he certainly didn’t have to send the Quodivar and Yokai to Haldessa.

  That thought made him bolt into a seated position. “Rondel, what happened to the castle?” he asked. “If the Quodivar received the letter, they would know how to attack it!”

  Rondel silently retrieved her fallen cup, staring into the empty mug as though searching for answers in its depths. “Iren, you guessed correctly that I left Haldessa in ruins. The city has burned to the ground.”

  Iren felt grateful he sat on the bed, because he swooned. Nearly all his memories were of Haldessa Castle. Up until the past month or so, he’d never gone anywhere else. He knew every passage by heart. He remembered the city lying just outside the castle walls, always bustling with excitement. How he’d longed to take part in that! He tried unsuccessfully not to think about the city’s populace. The Quodivar must have caught them totally off guard.

  “This news would be bad enough on its own,” Rondel said, “but I’m afraid it gets much worse. You see, neither the Quodivar, nor even the Yokai, put Haldessa to the torch.” She paused. Peering over her cup’s rim at him, she continued in a deadly whisper, “Amroth did.”

  Stunned, Iren barely managed to meet Rondel’s gaze.

  “I arrived just in time to witness it,” she said. “The Quodivar and Yokai had breached the city and the castle. Amroth used the Karyozaki’s magic and set everything on fire. The castle is nothing but an empty shell now. It was horrifying. I’ve seen neither such magic nor such cruelty in the thousand years since the Kodama-Maantec War ended. Many innocent victims still lived when Amroth unleashed his attack. He killed them all. Amroth wiped out the civilian population, including the king.”

  Iren’s head snapped up. It had to be a lie. It had to be. He only survived today because Amroth had protected him from execution. They’d fought side by side against the Quodivar. They were friends. Surely, the captain wouldn’t betray Iren. Surely, he wouldn’t betray Lodia.

  His mind wanted so badly to deny it, yet the forged letter stared mockingly back at him, its letters spelling out their cold truth. Amroth had used him, hoping he would help kill Zuberi and Hezna. Once Iren had accomplished that mission, Amroth had always intended to get rid of him. The captain had even gone so far as to specifically include Iren’s name in the letter to the Quodivar, guaranteeing that Iren would be cited as a potential traitor.

  Numbly, Iren got to his feet. “It can’t be. It can’t be.” He kept repeating the sentence, as if saying it enough times would make it true. Rondel and Aletas just watched, letting him work through the struggle on his own. Minawë stepped forward and started to put an arm around him, but the physical contact was too much. He bristled and shouted, “It can’t be!”

  Before anyone could stop him, he rushed out the door, down the steps, and was gone.

  * * *

  Iren had no idea why he was running, let alone where he was going.

  Still, it felt good to run. The pounding of his boots on the thick mat of fallen leaves, the shouting of his muscles as they begged for air, and the rapid breathing trying to meet that demand all called for concentration. While he ran, he didn’t have to think. While he ran, he didn’t have to see Amroth’s face bubbling up in his consciousness.

  He couldn’t trust anyone. He’d put his confidence in Amroth, and the captain had slaughtered an entire city. He’d considered Balear a comrade, yet the soldier had tried to kill him. He was better off on his own, the way he’d lived in Haldessa all those years.

  For what felt like hours, he continued running. He had no idea how far he went. It didn’t really matter, as long as he put distance between himself and everyone else.

  Perhaps if he’d paid slightly more attention, he would have noticed the cliff. As such, he didn’t even slow down as the forest abruptly ended, and he found himself no longer running but falling.

  He had just enough time to curse before he hit the water. Pain shot through his broken left wrist as the impact ripped away its sling. The smell of saltwater filled his nostrils, a scent he’d always found pleasing. Now it terrified him. Desperately, he tried to swim, but he had no clue how. He’d never been in water deeper than the bath in Haldessa. With each second, his head dipped lower. Soon he started gulping mouthfuls of liquid. The harsh water burned his throat and lungs. His vision faded, and he realized he would drown. He didn’t care. No one could betray him after he died.

  Just before he blacked out, a strong, lithe arm wrapped itself around his middle. Vaguely, as though in a dream, he felt the sensation of movement, of someone or something tugging on him.

  When he awoke sputtering, he lay face up on a sandy beach, staring at a bright, sunny sky. The smell of the ocean overwhelmed him, and he heard the familiar calls of the gulls and gentle crashing of the surf. It was impossible, yet it seemed he had returned to Haldessa, back to the coast of his childhood. Shielding his eyes from the harsh glare, he struggled to sit up, fighting nausea. He was soaked, and sand caked his clothes and skin.

  “You all right?” a concerned voice said from behind him. He craned his neck around and saw Minawë, herself thoroughly drenched.

  “I guess so,” he lied. His broken left wrist ached horribly. “Did you pull me from the water?”

  She nodded.

  Iren eyed her suspiciously. He didn’t know if he could trust her. Amroth and Balear had both betrayed him; Minawë could do the same at any time.

  Unable to face her any longer, he turned his gaze to the ocean. The surf roiled. It was high tide, and even from here, Iren could tell the water had a strong current. It could have easily washed them both out to sea. Nevertheless, she’d braved it, risking her own life to save his. He doubted Amroth or Balear would have done that for him.

  “By the way, moron,” Minawë said, “if you ever do something that stupid again, don’t worry about drowning. I’ll kill you myself.”

  Something about the way she said that made it hard for him to know if she was joking or not. He decided it best not to push the issue. Instead, he asked, “What is this place? Surely I didn’t run all the way to Lodia, yet this beach looks just like it.”

  Minawë laughed, clear and mirthful. Iren couldn’t imagine a sweeter sound, and it made him happier just to have it cross his ears. “No,” she replied, “you’re still in Ziorsecth, or at least on its edge. The forest surrounds this inland ocean on three sides, and the Eregos Mountains form its southern edge. This is the Yuushin Sea, and we named our capital after it. You only ran a few miles. Actually, you have pretty poor aim.” She pointed to the right. The coast rose rapidly from the gentle sandy beach where they rested to a tall bluff, not half a mile distant.

  She knelt down and smiled in his face. “You jumped off near the top. A thousand feet closer in this direction, and you’d just have run into the surf instead of off a cliff.”

  Iren nearly fainted again. From here, the bluff looked quite imposing. The fa
ll alone should have killed him. If Minawë hadn’t come for him, he would not have survived.

  Not that he was much better off. He winced as a fresh wave of pain jolted his broken arm. Minawë’s playful grin vanished. “Let’s get you back to the village. A dunking in the Yuushin Sea is bad enough on its own. I won’t have you getting an infected arm on my watch.”

  She helped him to his feet, and they had just about left the beach when Rondel burst through the tree line. The Maantec woman took one look at Iren and shook her head. “I swear I can’t leave you alone for five minutes without you getting into some kind of trouble. You really are an idiotic student.”

  Iren frowned at the old hag. “I think I preferred it when it was just Minawë on the beach. And since when am I a ‘student’ anyway?”

  Rondel smiled. “How else will you become skilled enough to stop Amroth?”

  He blanched. “Stop Amroth? He wiped out a city!”

  “Which is precisely why he must be stopped. You think Haldessa will satisfy Feng? No, his fires will spread, and they’ll do so all the faster now that Amroth has become king of Lodia.”

  The words took a few moments to register. Iren recalled how Azuluu had made the captain his chief advisor, and therefore heir to the throne, during the feast before their mission. With Azuluu dead, Amroth had full command of the country.

  “So let’s go,” Rondel barked. “We don’t have time to waste on you resting. Hurry up, slacker!”

  Iren took a step backward, protesting, “Forget it! In case you didn’t notice, I have a broken wrist. Besides, what about you? If you went to Haldessa and saw Amroth torch the city, why didn’t you stop him? What happened to ‘evil must be annihilated?’”

  Sparks flashed in Rondel’s eyes as Lightning Sight activated. “You think I didn’t want to? Between his kingship and his possession of the Karyozaki, Amroth has become the greatest threat to Raa since the Kodama-Maantec War ended. If I could have killed him, I would have.” She sighed. “At the moment, though, I can’t. When Hezna beat me, he took the Liryometa. Amroth grabbed it along with Feng’s sword. Without Okthora’s magic bolstering my own, I don’t stand a chance against him. Remember that bolt of lightning I used against Zuberi to save you? That took nearly all the magic I had. I can’t compete with Amroth as I am now.”