Next to the burnt-out fire, Bower snuffled in his sleep, but he didn’t wake at the noise.
All things connected by fate. Destiny. You and he have a tie just as you and Jaydra.
It was my turn to give a snort. But whatever we might be facing, Jaydra was more my family than anyone.
But Bower wasn’t going back to the city. He didn’t want to take me there. I would have to find a way to do this without him. Except if I did that, I would leave him out here, and that wasn’t good for him.
Heading into the woods, I gathered fresh fuel for the fire—old branches that had fallen—and I kept thinking of all of the things Jaydra and I had seen during our travels.
From what we’d seen, the roads here were not well cared for or marked. I’d seen better paths on any island. That told me it had been a long time—years even—since anyone had traveled very far.
When we had flown over the cliffs of the shore, we had seen ruins of huge houses and small cottages, all left and broken apart. There were even entire villages that seemed to have been lost in the middle of the forests—these I could see from the sky, but from the ground they would be impossible to find. Tracks like faint scars crossed the land, and it seemed to me that this land had fallen on hard times. Jaydra and I had learned to be cautious for we’d had to avoid more than one camp of bandits—rough, armed people who drank too much and boasted of the villages they had raided. Farmers didn’t wish to talk to me—a stranger—and now Bower didn’t want to take me to the one city that might hold some answers for me.
I started back to the camp, settled the wood on the ground and started to build a new fire. I didn’t trust my magic enough to use it to light a fire—I’d tried that a couple of times a few nights ago and had set a tree ablaze. Maybe Bower was right to be cautious—around me and others. But he had also said he couldn’t go back—was he in trouble?
Bower gave a cough and woke suddenly, sitting up and flinching. He glanced around, eyes wide, and I wondered if he was looking for Jaydra.
“Morning.” I nodded at the fire I had started with my flint and my knife blade. “There’s water, and rabbit for breakfast.”
“Lash tea?” He pushed back his cloak and pushed at his hair. He had thick, dark hair. Seen in daylight, he was better looking than I’d thought he’d be with wide-set eyes and a wide mouth. He had a strong chin with only the faintest stubble showing.
“Lash what?” I asked. Was it the way that people greeted each other in the morning in these strange lands?
“It’s a hot drink. It keeps you awake.” I saw him staring at the water flask beside the fire. He shook his head. “Never mind. Water it is.” He stretched and stood, and almost tripping over the wood I’d gathered for the fire. I shook my head. If he insisted on trying to make his way alone, he wasn’t going to last out the day.
6
Problems of the Wild
Saffron seemed to be done with treating me like a captive or a criminal. We ate breakfast and chatted and I drew a map for her about which road to follow to reach Torvald. I also tried to give her a dozen warnings about what to do and what not to do. By the time I was ready to take my leave from her, the sun had vanished behind heavy clouds. The wet, damp smell of rain hung in the air. I was almost sorry to part ways with Saffron. I now felt more like a travelling companion, almost a friend.
Real friends don’t tie you up.
I rubbed the red marks on my wrists. There was that, but somehow, the feeling persisted that I knew this girl. I should have been furious for how she had treated me, but I just couldn’t work up the anger. She had skills enough to hunt her own meat, and a wicked knife, and that meant she could have killed me if she’d wished. There was also her determination to make her own way—and her interest in dragons. Those things had me thinking she had a good heart underneath that spiky exterior.
But that exterior was going to be a problem in Torvald.
I wasn’t signing on for going back. But I worried about her. What if she ended up asking others in the city about dragons? What if she tangled with the Iron Guards? That wasn’t going to go well for her. I wanted to try and talk her out of her plan, but what could say?
I know how dangerous it is to talk about dragons because I have books on dragons and that alone was enough to have the king’s Iron Guard come after me?
What would I say after that? I would end up telling her my entire life story and she might not even believe me.
She would just have to cope on her own, somehow.
Just as I would have to out here.
Looking over the few belongings I had in my bag, I let out a breath. Saffron had given me some of the rabbit meat. I had given her a few coins. Now we each had to make our own way. I packed my books—and caught Saffron eyeing them as if she wanted to sit down and read one. Standing, I hefted up my bags. It was, to my best guess, about late morning and still we hadn’t moved from the ruins. The grey clouds looked ready to drop a hard wetting. I looked up at them and wondered if I would be able to reach a farm house or an inn—or even a cave before I got soaked.
Glancing around, I searched for Saffron so I could at least wish her good luck.
She stepped from the woods, leading what looked a balking, young horse. The horse looked odd to me—it was a lot taller than any horse I’d ever seen and for an instant, I could almost swear it had a sinuous, long neck…and the shadow of wings. I squeezed my eyes closed, knowing it was impossible for horses to have wings—or a blue-green hue to their coats. When I opened my eyes again, I saw it was just a horse. Tall, yes, but the blue-green came from the sheen off a dappled black coat.
The horse did seem to be looking oddly at me, almost as if it had an air of interest in me that I’d never before seen in a horse.
Oddly, Saffron didn’t have so much as a rope around the horse’s neck—clearly this was a very well-trained horse.
“This is Jaydra.” Saffron waved at the horse. Saffron’s cheeks colored and she gave a short laugh. “I’ve…uh, known her forever. You might say we grew up together. I had her tethered in the woods.
“With what?” I glanced around for a rope.
Saffron just shrugged and waved a hand. “Well…you know.”
“I don’t know that much about horses. When we had money enough to have stables, we also had stable boys who looked after them. I just rode.” Bending down, I pulled up a hank of grass and offered it.
The horse—a mare I noticed—stared at me, head high, snorted and stamped a hoof, then swung around to give me a view of a wide rump and a long, swishing tail.
“And she doesn’t like grass,” Jaydra said.
“A horse that doesn’t like grass? Now I have seen everything the world has to offer.”
Saffron was looking at me with eyes narrowed and her head tipped slightly to one side as if she was doing sums in her head. Or thinking really hard and trying to decipher a new text. “She’s a different breed of horse than you would have ever known before.”
I turned away from the horse, moving back a step so I was well out of kicking range—just in case. I gave Saffron a smile. “Well—if you’re not actually going to tie me up or kill me and steal my goods or anything else dire, I guess I’ll be on my way.”
“Are you sure you won’t help me find my way into this city of yours?” Her forehead bunched and she chewed on her lower lip. She looked younger now and freckles stood out on her cheeks. My chest tightened. I wanted to help her, but she really had no idea just what she was asking from me.
“I’m sorry, Saffron. I can’t. The city…you’re going to be disappointed by it, I promise. It’s dangerous and dirty and—”
I tried to tell her, but I could see the ripple of annoyance across her face as she snorted and shook her head.
“Fine. Go.” She turned to her horse and draped an arm over its back. The horse glanced at her and shook its head from side to side, as if it had something to say and Saffron wasn’t listening. Saffron leaned her back against the horse’s si
de, folded her arms and frowned at me, a line now tightened between red-gold eyebrows. “I hope you don’t get eaten by bears or something worse.”
I gave a laugh. “Bears? Since when do bears live this close to the road?”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t you know anything? A bear is big enough to live wherever it wants. And go wherever it wants—that includes roads.”
I glanced at the woods around us. Were there really bears around? That did not match what I had read about such animals. I picked up my case of books and my pack. “I may be safer with bears than I was with you jumping me. Good…well, good luck to you. In Torvald, you’ll need it.”
And good riddance.
I pressed my lips tight. Yes, good riddance. I didn’t need her help. I had read about the woods beyond Torvald. I knew I wanted to head to the King’s Village so I would keep to the road and that would guide me there. If nothing else, there would be signs.
But already the bags dragged at my shoulders. I walked away from the ruins and Saffron and her odd horse, anyway. And I was not going to think that I’d heard a grumble that had sounded almost like words coming from Jaydra, Saffron’s odd horse.
I’d once read that of the many problems with the wilds, the biggest one was that they were in essence wild. I’d had no idea of the meaning of that, but after walking for an hour, weaving in and out of the woods, I now knew exactly what it foretold.
The road had been easy to find—but it also had the disadvantage of travelers on the move, although there were few of them, and soldiers, of which there were far too many. I didn’t mind the one, but the other could end with me dragged back to Torvald. Parting with the road yet again, I headed for the trees. They’d been cool and shady at first, and easy to duck into to hide myself. Birdsong had greeted me. I’d wandered a little deeper, certain I could keep the road in sight. That had become impossible.
Now I wasn’t certain where I was.
The trees all looked the same, roots tried to snag my feet and tripped me, and branches swatted at my face and pulled at my hair and cloak. Trees should not be allowed to grow their roots above ground like this—it was messy and unsightly. Roots were supposed to be kept underground, as they were with the trees in the city. Branches should grow up high—or had they all just been trimmed within Torvald?
And I wasn’t going to think about the stones that bruised my feet or the mud making my boots heavy, or how the sounds of the animals had changed from birdsong to growls and roars that kept stopping my stride so I could search for the source of such noise.
Sitting down on the ground, I dropped my bags and pulled my cloak tight. The hem was now muddy and heavy, I let out a long sigh. My shoulders ached, as did my calves and thighs and feet.
I had thought of my time with the Byers, learning to drive a wagon, helping her haul water and harness her mules and find firewood, had toughened me. I’d been ready for the life of a wandering adventurer—or so I’d thought. I’d been utterly wrong.
In the past hour, I had acquired scratches on my face, bruises on my shins and my bags were rubbing my fingers raw.
It seemed unfair that the wilds should be so very wild. I would just have to make my way back to the road and try to find a friendly farmer who might give me a ride on his wagon.
But that would require me to get to my feet—and perhaps I could just sit a few minutes longer. That left me facing an unpleasant possibility—what if I didn’t have what it took to be an adventurer?
I frowned at the idea, picked up a stick and began drawing in the damp dirt. Idle sketches to pass the time while my feet rested.
Perhaps I should have stuck with Saffron—maybe worked harder to change her mind so that she came with me to King’s Village? Or perhaps I’d been rash to leave Byers? But, no, that would have meant leaning on others, as I had done all my life. This was a chance to prove myself—and I had my books with me to provide me with company.
I patted the reassuring weight of the case with my books. They were the hope for the future—they were my hope. Perhaps I would come across traveling Gypsies and we would exchange stories—tales of dragons…and even odd horses.
The drawing I’d made in the dirt started to look more like Saffron’s very tall horse with the blue-black coat. I crossed it out and tried to draw the dragon I thought I’d seen last night.
I’d only glimpsed it, but it had looked so real. Even given all my reading about dragons, I don’t think I could have dreamed of a dragon that looked like the one I thought I’d seen. After all, I had read of the large crimson red dragons, and the blues.
This dragon of last night that I had seen had been blue-green, the color of moss, or the sea on a sunny day. In the firelight, its scales had seemed to shimmer and change color, depending on the flickering light. It had a softer, shorter snout.
I looked at what I had drawn in the dirt and dragged the stick through the image to cross it out.
Just one of the reasons why it must have been an illusion!
There were no such dragons in any of the books I had read. I’d been tired, and talking about dragons had mixed up the traits of half a dozen or so of the images I knew to create an entirely new breed out of long-dead stories.
But, oh, how a dragon would have made this traveling about so much easier.
“Time to get moving,” I muttered, needing to hear someone talk, even if it was just myself. I pushing off the large, hard stone and brushing the cold off my backside.
A crack in the woods north of me had me catching a breath and holding still. A twig had broken—but what broke it? Another branch or twig broke, leaves crackled, and I heard a deep, snuffling sound coming closer.
“Saffron? Is that you and your horse?” My voice sounded too high. I cleared my throat and called out, “You haven’t fooled me, you know. And I really don’t want to be kidnapped a second time.” I lifted my bag—it was not much of a weapon—and I put a hand on the knife on my belt. The knife suddenly seemed far too small and slight. I called out, “If you wish to join me I’m heading for King’s Village and you’re welcome to come along.”
More branches cracked—large ones by the sound of it. My heart thudded up into my throat and I wet my lips and drew my knife. “I’m just going to go on my way—and I won’t be waiting for you!”
The crunching of leaves and the snuffling drew closer. Neither a horse or a girl could be making that sound.
A guttural, throaty snarl shook the woods.
Cold flooded down my spine. The sound had come from behind me.
Did I really want to turn and see what had made such a growl?
I had to. The urge to look was one undeniable, like drinking water when parched or pulling in air after being too long underwater. Pulse fast and hard, my breath coming in shallow gasps, I turned ever so slowly.
The noise behind me had stopped—but that was even worse.
There are no bears out here.
I told myself that over and over again. The king’s army patrolled these roads and woods, and no bear had been seen in years. Or that’s what the books I’d read had always told me.
But just how many of the king’s patrols had I seen coming since parting company with the road?
In truth, even on the road, I’d seen only two patrols. I had a new perspective on the supposed wealth of the Middle Kingdom since leaving the capital, and it looked to me as though little to nothing went to the upkeep of the roads or the people.
None of that, however, would help me right now. I was on my own—without a road, or a patrol or even a friend’s help.
I looked behind me.
For an instant, I saw nothing but trees and dark forest. The tall pines blocked what little sunshine could make its way past the gathering clouds. And then something moved—something large with glittering eyes. It growled again, and long, white fangs flashed in the pale sunlight. My heart banged into my chest, but I forced myself to hold still.
The bear’s patchy, black fur left it able to hide in the wo
ods and deeper, reddish stripes the color of the flags that had once hung over the gates of Torvald marked its hide. It was unlike any picture of any bears I had ever seen in my books. It boasted two sets of long fans or tusks, one pair on the upper jaw and one on the lower jaw. A low forehead sloped back from the face and small, black eyes stared at me. It lifted its snout and snuffled the air, as if it could not see very well. Still snuffling, it rose to stand on all fours, staring in my direction.
My throat and mouth dried. I was shaking inside. This could be no ordinary bear. It looked as if it could be a bear that had gone to the soldier’s guild and had been thrown out for being too good at killing people. Maybe it was some strange, new breed no one else knew about.
Maybe I’m the first human to see it.
For an instant, that thought left me exciting and grinning. But the bear let out another growl, and it struck me that seeing this bear might be the last thing I ever did.
I took a slow and careful step backwards and stepped on a dried twig. The snap reverberated around the little clearing and up my spine.
The mangy bear sank down on all four paws and roared.
I knew I would soon be dead if I didn’t move.
Turning, I ran. I never knew I had that much speed in me. Behind me, I could hear the bear crashing through the woods. I dodged around trees, swung myself over boulders. I didn’t know if I could outrun the animal, but I had to try.
I willed myself to go faster, putting everything I had into the sprint. My lungs burned and my side ached. I ducked under low branches and sprinted around huge trees. And I could hear the bear’s crashing, its heaving breath—I could smell the stench of rotten meat coming from it.
Ahead, the sliver of glinting light broke through the trees. It had to be the road. Oh, please, that had to be the end of the woods and the road. That had to be safety and sanity again—and maybe help.
I burst out of the trees and into bright daylight that left my eyes stinging. Squinting, I made for the hardened-packed stone road. I jumped over the ditch on the side of the road, a deep one used to drain water from the roadway. I thought that maybe, just maybe I had made it to safety and relief surged through me. Risking a glance back, I leaned over to brace my hands on my knees. The bear crash out of the trees. It was even bigger than I had thought, its black eyes glowed red, and its hair hung off it in unhealthy, loose hunks. Bits of bone clung to its fur—and bits of other things.
Dragons of Wild (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 1) Page 7
