Rebellion: I, Dragon Book 2

by Nathan Roden

  They found the healer’s wife sprawled on her bed, still in her night clothes. Her eyes were red and swollen. She squinted in the light.

  “Who’s there? Have you come for my life as well? Take it! I beg you!”

  “It is Lord Sterling, My Lady,” Raynard said. “On the King’s business.”

  “King’s business!” the woman spat. “The King could not protect my husband! My husband has treated half the people of this village! He has treated the sick and wounded of the King’s Guard and his Army! But no more!”

  “Who committed this deed?” Sterling asked.

  The woman was visibly disturbed by the question.

  “It was dark—so very dark! I don’t know who it was!”

  “You saw nothing at all?“ Sterling asked. “Nothing that will help us learn this man’s identity? Please, try to remember.”

  The woman buried her head in her pillow and sobbed.

  “Dark,” she repeated in misery. “It was so dark…”

  Sterling and Raynard left the building and walked toward their horses. When they had mounted, Sterling looked at Raynard.

  “It was him.”

  Thirty-Five

  Nicolas Lamont led Vincent and his men to the clearing outside of the village of Vallen.

  Vincent looked around.

  “Where is he?”

  Simon stepped from among the trees. His scales changed from the mottled color of tree bark into a cast of fluorescent colors.

  “Magnificent!” Vincent whispered. It was clearly his favorite word.

  Vincent’s men were more reserved in their reactions. They kept their hands close to their weapons.

  Lamont’s men kept a close eye on them.

  “Vincent of the Village of Vallen,” Lamont said. “May I present Simon of Morgenwraithe. The son of King Bailin and rightful heir to the Morgenwraithe throne.”

  Vincent nodded deeply, but he wore a smirk.

  “It remains to be seen, whether this stately creature could actually be of Royal descent.”

  Simon breathed out slowly. His eyes narrowed as black smoke rose from his mouth and nostrils.

  “What proof do you seek?” Simon asked. “I do have a speech prepared, if you wish to hear me wax eloquent.”

  Vincent clapped his hands in delight.

  “You are magnificent!” he exclaimed. “Such a grand character!”

  “My function is not to entertain, Lord Vincent,” Simon said. “As Lord Lamont has explained to you, we come to propose an alliance. An alliance of mutual benefit.”

  “The needs of our people are simple,” Vincent said. “We want for very little. And we need not fear our neighbors as those of your kingdom do.”

  “Those who wield power in our kingdom are not fulfilling their treaty with your people. A fever runs unchecked in the south—”

  Vincent waved his hand.

  “We have heard these tales from other villages. We have lost only a few citizens—and most of them were old.”

  “Then you are fortunate, indeed,” Lamont said. “Are you willing to forsake your rightful share of the bounties of our ports? You should have stores of medicines to draw from. Or you could provide for other villages. You are being cheated. And lied to.”

  “You wish us to risk our lives—to put a dragon on your throne?” Vincent was no longer humored. “We reap no benefits from your king—and it has been this way for generations! Your kings keep an armed regiment on our border—telling us that it is for our protection! Lies! They fear us. And they will kill every man in the south to keep us out!”

  “Stand with us—and help us to overthrow this evil,” Simon said. “And your treaties will be honored—with reparations for what you are due. The border will become a thing of the past. The people of the south will be free to come and go wherever they wish.”

  Vincent lowered his chin to his chest. He shook his head.

  “I want to believe you. But I cannot ignore the fact that I am listening to the promises of a dragon! Few of your species remain in our land—only because we seek them out every day. Some of us remember the days of fear and terror when the reign of fire was a constant in our lives—”

  “Then stand with us,” Simon said. “I will use my strength and my fire to take back what has been lost!”

  “Tonight is the full moon,” Vincent said. “And you will take the form of a man.”

  “Yes,” Simon said. “For one full day—from the full moon until the moon of the next night. If you wish to hear the same words from the mouth of a man, then you shall do so.”

  “Very well,” Vincent said. “I look forward to witnessing this transformation.”

  “I’m sorry, My Lord,” Simon said. “The transformation itself is…it is a very personal experience. It is also quite disturbing.”

  “No, a talking dragon is disturbing!” Vincent said.

  “I will witness this transformation—or there will be no deal!”

  “Lord Vincent,” Lamont said. “It is not necessary that you—”

  “Do not tell me what is necessary!” Vincent spat. He motioned toward Lamont and his men.

  “I do not know you! I have no reason to trust any of you—especially the words of a flowery-tongued beast! How do we know that this is not a carefully constructed bit of trickery?”

  “I will witness this event—or you can all leave this place and go to hell!”

  Lamont was angry.

  “You are being un—”

  “You may watch the transformation, Lord Vincent,” Simon said. “But only you.”

  Vincent smiled.

  “Excellent. That is all I ask.”

  Vincent walked toward his men. He whispered briefly to one of them, and then he addressed them all.

  “Wait for us in the square. Prepare a clean and dry space for our guests in my barn—and have the women prepare food for our new friends.”

  Thirty-Six

  Jaclyn entered the throne room. Lucien was there, accompanied by two of his friends. Jaclyn almost stumbled when she saw the boy at Lucien’s side.

  Oliver.

  In the uniform of…the King’s squire? How could this be?

  Thoughts raced through Jaclyn’s mind.

  Was it possible? Had Lucien selected the boy who had sworn his loyalty to her—or was this a trick?

  “Your Grace,” Jaclyn said.

  Lucien waved his friends away.

  “Yes, My Queen.”

  “I wish to accompany my mother home—for only a day or two. It will be my last opportunity to visit before the baby comes.”

  Lucien looked down at Jaclyn’s swollen belly. He seemed unable to process the fact that his child was in there.

  “Yes,” he said. “Of course. I will assign members of the Guard to go with you.”

  “Thank you, Your Grace.”

  Jaclyn bowed and left the room.

  The trip to Islemar was pleasant and uneventful. Jaclyn and Lady Lamont laughed and took turns patting the Queen’s belly. They talked to the baby as if he had already been born.

  “I want to call him ‘Nicolas’,” Jaclyn said.

  She had never told her mother what Magdalena had said about her baby. She did not want him to be tied to magic in any way.

  “Or, should it be a girl—Nicolette is a lovely name.”

  “Nicolette,” Lady Lamont pondered. “That is lovely. So lovely, that I almost wish it was a girl.”

  Robinette Lamont sighed.

  “But the child is a boy.”

  “How can you be so certain?” Jaclyn asked.

  “Your tummy is…how should I say…oh, you’re getting quite large, Jaclyn! And the child is low in your belly. This is also the reason we have to stop every half hour.”

  “Very funny, Mother!”

  Robinette laughed. She leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the forehead.

  “I have longed for the day when I could make fun of my daughter when she was with child!”

  “Are
you absolutely certain that you don’t have magical powers?” Jaclyn asked. “You would make such a magnificent witch!”

  Mother and daughter laughed until they had tears in their eyes. The servants that accompanied them looked on uncomfortably.

  When the small caravan arrived at the gates of Islemar, they were greeted by a small contingent of Lord Lamont’s army.

  Nicolas Lamont’s first lieutenant, Finn, took Lady Lamont aside. He whispered in her ear.

  Jaclyn was concerned with the look on her mother’s face.

  Lady Lamont whispered in Jaclyn’s ear.

  “Stay at my side. Let your face reveal nothing.”

  Jaclyn had grown accustomed to such instructions.

  Lady Lamont and Jaclyn graciously greeted the servant staff of the Castle Islemar.

  And then, they followed Finn. They descended the steps into the castle’s dungeon.

  “Who is there?” Jaclyn asked the darkness.

  Jaclyn jumped when a hand touched her shoulder.

  “W-who are you?” she whispered.

  “A friend,” Caleb whispered back. “And you…you are a friend of the dragon-king.”

  Pause.

  “No…I was mistaken. Far more than a friend.”

  “Mother,” Jaclyn said. She pulled at her mother’s arm.

  “W-who are these children?”

  “They were recently orphaned…” Finn said.

  Jaclyn jumped. The hand pressed her shoulder.

  “You have nothing to fear from us, my Queen.”

  “We have more in common than you might imagine.”

  Tiny Sara Brewer curtsied before the Queen in the dim torchlight.

  “Caleb cannot see, my Queen. But he knows your heart—as he knows the heart of the true king. The dragon.”

  Jaclyn breathed in—a ratcheting, fearful breath.

  “You…you know him? You know Simon?”

  Jaclyn jumped and squealed. The little boy who had been clutching Sara’s dress and sucking his thumb suddenly let go and ran in tight circles.

  “Zeke fly!” he cried.

  Jaclyn and Robinette Lamont covered their mouths with their hands. They laughed and cried at the same time.

  Thirty-Seven

  Vincent looked up at the sun, which would soon disappear behind the trees.

  Simon turned and began to walk away from the village.

  “Where are you going?’ Vincent asked.

  “Farther away from your village,” Simon said.

  “But why?”

  “The transformation is…unpleasant,” Simon said. “Do not worry, My Lord. You will be in no danger. But it will seem as though I am experiencing the pain of a thousand deaths.”

  Vincent gave Magdalena a sideways glance.

  “You stand with this woman—whose punishment you experience at every full moon?”

  “I did not know that the transformation happened this way,” Magdalena said. “The old sorcerer who taught me did not mention it.”

  Vincent shook his head.

  “This is by far the most unusual alliance I have ever heard of. You cannot blame us for having a difficult time believing you.”

  “We do not blame you at all,” Simon said. “I only hope that within the hour, you will believe that our motives are true.”

  “Let’s make our distance then,” Vincent said. “It will not do for us to return to a village full of crying women and children.”

  They walked for over a mile. The walls of a canyon surrounded them.

  “Lord Vincent and I will enter this canyon,” Simon said to Lamont.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” Lamont asked.

  “No,” Simon said. “I have never wanted…I have never wanted any of those I care about to see this. I don’t want this part of me to be remembered by anyone.”

  Lamont nodded.

  The day’s light was fading fast. Lamont handed Vincent a torch. He also handed him a roped bundle.

  “What is this?” Vincent asked.

  “My clothes,” Simon said.

  “Oh. Yes.”

  “We will wait for you here,” Lamont said.

  Lamont and his men heard the anguished scream echoing from the canyon walls. They avoided each other’s eyes and said nothing. Eventually the cries were no more.

  The light of a distant torch grew closer. Its light lit the faces of two men.

  Vincent’s eyes were wide, and his jaw slack.

  “Magnificent!” he uttered. “The most amazing thing I have ever seen!”

  Helena wept and threw her arms around Simon, the man.

  When she stepped away, Simon stepped forward. The members of Lamont’s Guard looked on in amazement.

  Simon held out his hand to Nicolas Lamont.

  In the light of the torches, Lamont blinked rapidly. A tear ran down his cheek.

  He ignored Simon’s hand

  And threw his arms around him as well.

  They marched back toward the village. The village glowed brightly, even from a distance.

  “Your village is lit by many torches, Lord Vincent,” Lamont said. “Is this normal?”

  “No. Only at times of celebration, Lord Lamont! Tonight, we welcome a host of new friends!”

  They stepped into the center of the village, surrounded by flaming torches. But there were no people to be seen.

  Lamont scowled.

  “Something seems amiss—”

  “Make one wrong move and you’re a dead man.”

  Lamont felt the sharp point of a weapon at his back. A sword, or a spear, he did not know. It did not matter.

  Lamont looked to his left and his right. Each of his men had a spear at their back. So did Helena and Magdalena. Lamont scanned the area. Dozens of the village’s people had surrounded them from the rear. Some of them were women.

  Vincent threw his left arm around Simon’s neck. His right hand held a dagger against Simon’s throat.

  “Well, this must come as quite a surprise, Lord Lamont!” Vincent sneered.

  “What are you doing, Vincent?” Lamont asked. “We came here in sincerity. We pose no threat to you whether you join us or not!”

  Vincent turned and spat on the ground.

  “That is what I think of your offer—and your sincerity!”

  “Then we will leave your village. We have no desire for violence. Tell your people to lower their weapons.”

  “I’m afraid that would be a lost opportunity!” Vincent cackled.

  “The rightful king of Morgenwraithe! In the flesh!”

  “And the point of my blade at his neck.”

  “Let him go, you wicked bastard!” Helena screamed.

  A filthy hand grabbed her by the hair and snatched her head back. A man threw her to the ground and held his spear to her throat.

  “Get up, wench! And hold your foul tongue!”

  Helena tried to push herself to her feet, but not quickly enough for the man. He dragged her to her feet by her hair.

  “Ha, ha, ha, ha!” Vincent laughed.

  “Let him go!” he said in a mocking voice.

  “Is this your man, little girl? Does he give you what you need—on his one day a month?”

  Vincent dragged his dagger slowly down the side of Simon’s neck. A line of blood appeared glistening in the torch light.

  Helena covered her eyes and wept.

  Thirty-Eight

  Vincent pulled his finger across Simon’s neck. He licked his finger.

  “Would you look at this?” he said. “I have Royal blood inside of me now! I should be your king!”

  Vincent pretended to be shocked.

  “Or…am I now going to become a fearsome dragon? Am I to become the dragon-king of Vallen? That would be magnificent!”

  Nicolas Lamont cleared his throat.

  “Lord Vincent, you must—”

  “Be silent!” Vincent snapped. “You dare to tell me what I must do? I realize that you have known only obedience and privilege for th
e entirety of your existence—but can you not see that your reign is over?”

  Vincent focused on the dagger in his hand.

  “I have met your dear King’s Regent. We have done business together!”

  Vincent looked at Lamont and pretended confusion.

  “Did I fail to tell you that before? I am getting so forgetful!”

  “I sold Lord Sterling a dragon. I knew that it was too old and decrepit to be this dear boy. But, the possibility was intriguing enough to lead Sterling right here to our humble village. And do you know what Sterling told me that day, Lamont?”

  Lamont scowled and said nothing.

  “I asked you a question!” Vincent screamed, with spit flying from his lips.

  “I have no idea what Sterling said,” Lamont said.

  “He told me that the man who handed him the head of the Simon Morgenwraithe would never want for anything—for the rest of his life!”

  “Sterling is a liar,” Lamont said. “You should have figured that out by now.”

  “One man’s lies are another man’s good business!” Vincent laughed. “Let me ask you this, Lamont. Are there poor people in your kingdom?”

  “Of course, there are,” Lamont said. “There will always be poor among us. Some are poor by their own choice.”

  “Yet you profit from your merchant ships! Tell me, do you live in a great castle?”

  “I live in Islemar castle, which has been the home of the village’s steward for generations—”

  “Do you have servants? Do others cook for you—clean for you?”

  “Of course—”

  Vincent spit on the ground again.

  “Then your stewardship does little or nothing for your people!”

  Vincent calmed himself.