Dragon School: Dragon Piper

by Wilson, Sarah K. L.

  “Prophecies for our time and the times to come. I read them to help guide me.” My eyes were fixed on where we last saw her.

  “I generally find common sense is best,” he said with a sniff, but his shaking voice told me he was trying to disguise emotion just as I was.

  “Look! What’s that?” I pointed. There was a puff of steam from the center of the flames. We stared at it, frozen in place, unable to look away.

  “There’s a pool there,” Tor said. In the middle of the square. It used to be a fancy fountain in the old times, but now it just holds dirty water.”

  “So, it’s just water evaporating in the flames?” I didn’t want to get my hopes up. It was just steam.

  The wind grabbed the steam, brushing it away like a curtain. I drew in a breath and held it, watching the shreds of mist tear away, staring at crimson glow. Was that? It couldn’t be...

  Lancing up through the flames shot a green dragon, streaked with soot and the rainbow burnish of flame on scale. On his back, his rider huddled over a small bundle of rags, both of them blackened and seared.

  Twice dead, she rises.

  The rest of the prophecy came back to me as I watched her soar into the air, Tyalmae’s wings extending outward in victory. It barely seemed real.

  Twice dead, she rises.

  Her rising a sign of salvation.

  Favor from the heavens.

  Relief from the fires of hell.

  The first drop of rain hit my nose, like a splashing tear.

  And then a second.

  And then whatever great dragon surrounded the earth and held it in place opened his mouth and water flooded over us.

  Her rising. The sign of salvation.

  Or, it’s just raining.

  This was the miracle we needed!

  It won’t save the city. It’s too late for that.

  But it would save the countryside and the people we’d helped escape and maybe even the ones still fleeing the burning hell below.

  I still couldn’t believe it was real. I was afraid to breathe.

  “Amel?” Tor asked. “That’s your name, right?”

  I ignored Tor. Ephretti must have landed in that pool of water and scooped up some poor soul huddling there to escape the flames. She wouldn’t have even realized that she was the sign...

  “Look, it’s not like I expected you to have the good sense to come out of the rain, but I did think you might want to look at this.” His voice had taken on an urgent tone.

  I opened my eyes. Across the burning city, a golden dragon flew toward us and the fierce woman on his back was staring directly at me.

  Jalla.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Oh great. My master was back. We’d better head toward the infirmary. Any meeting with Jalla was going to be hot enough without adding a flaming city in the mix.

  She’s not going to like that. She’ll think you’re making her follow you.

  She could think whatever she wanted. Where was she a few hours ago when we could have used her army?

  Marching across the landscape, I’d guess.

  Why was Raolcan always so easy on Jalla? She didn’t deserve it!

  No one deserves mercy or kindness. But it’s a gift that the merciful give, regardless.

  My cheeks felt hot.

  That wasn’t a rebuke. It was just a reminder.

  “Who’s the woman on the golden dragon?” Tor asked.

  “Jalla the Winged Prince of Baojang.”

  “Pretty, isn’t she?”

  I scowled. Pretty? Of all the adjectives I thought fit Jalla, that was not one of them.

  “If you’re attracted to snakes.”

  “I might be. I’ve never met a snake before who was also a beautiful woman.”

  We landed on the hillside not far from the makeshift infirmary. As if our landing was a catalyst, Kyrowat leapt into the air and landed roughly beside us.

  “That dragon came from the approaching army,” Hubric said as Kyrowat shifted under him. “I figured you could use some backup.” He nodded to Tor. “Good work back there.”

  Tor dismounted but I stayed on Raolcan’s back. I preferred it here – especially now that walking was even more difficult.

  I’m happy to be your legs, Hopebringer.

  I felt a pang of guilt. I hadn’t brought much hope here.

  It wasn’t hope that you brought when you sent dragons to spit on a fire? Not hope when you helped make a way for fleeing innocents? I’m not sure what you think hope is.

  I just thought I wouldn’t make mistakes like this. I didn’t think I’d ever be the one to destroy something or to hurt people. I was starting to think now that I didn’t know who I was. Maybe I just knew what I’d done – and it wasn’t all good.

  I know who you are. You’re Amel Leafbrought, Raolcan’s human. Your aching heart of compassion is what defines you. Your desperate attempts to save the innocent in both small ways and huge designs, are what makes you Amel. I won’t let you forget that. You are what you’ve done – sure. But you’re more than that, too.

  Tears pricked my eyes and I let my hands spread out across Raolcan’s back, basking in the love of someone who still accepted me when I had nothing to offer but failure, brokenness, and exhaustion. What would I do without this dragon?

  What would I do without this human?

  Conquer the world?

  Lose my heart.

  Ahummal landed in front of us, spoiling the moment.

  He smells like feet. How can he travel so far and still smell like feet?

  Chapter Eighteen

  Jalla didn’t wait for his feet to skid to a stop before she leapt of Ahummal’s back and strode toward me, her long curly hair whipping in wet ropes behind her and the rain lashing at her from every direction. Her loose desert clothing was soaked, but she seemed completely unaffected by the storm.

  “Ruined!” she yelled over the pounding rain. “I get here, and you’ve burnt the place to the ground! Well? What do you have to say for yourself, slave?”

  “I-”

  “Don’t even begin with me! I sent you to find me more dragons and I find you attacking cities and burning them to the ever-loving ground!”

  “So,” Hubric said laconically. “This is Jalla the Winged Prince. She’s smaller than I expected.”

  Raolcan snorted a laugh, but Jalla’s eyes narrowed as she turned to Hubric. “Silence, old man.”

  “I can’t be silent if you insist on speaking to my apprentice that way, Winged Prince.”

  “Your apprentice? She’s my slave!”

  I coughed, suddenly realizing that no matter what labels people put on me there was only one that mattered. “Actually, I’m Raolcan’s human and everything else just seems a little inconsequential at the moment.”

  “And where,” Jalla asked. “Is my Pipe?”

  I ignored her, turning to Hubric. “The survivors?”

  Hubric smiled. “Dax has the infirmary under control, but the rain will be a problem for the survivors. They lost everything in those fires. And even with the rain it will be days before they stop smoldering.”

  “And days before we can access the door to the warrens – if it’s still intact,” I agreed.

  Tor coughed. “Well, since it is at the base of the stone tower and since the tower is still standing, I think it will be fine.” He stepped back as all eyes turned to him and threw his hands up defensively. “Not that I know anything about that.”

  “Explain,” Jalla demanded.

  I sat up straight in my saddle, steeling myself to stand up to Jalla. “There are underground pathways from here that can lead your armies south to the cities below in mere days instead of weeks. There is a door leading to them beneath this fallen city. We took the city in battle – and fire, it seems – and now we have survivors to care for and a path to find to the main battle south of here.”

  “Good work,” she said, as if none of her former criticisms had ever been voiced. “We’ll have our men figh
t the fires in the morning and drive a path to this door. A small occupational force can be left to deal with the survivors of this city.”

  “No need,” Ephretti called as Tyalmae landed behind us. Raolcan spun so I could see her. I barely supressed a gasp. Ephretti’s face and clothing were smeared with rain and soot, but behind the soot was a glow to her face that overshadowed exhaustion and pain. Was that the same glow that Rakturan and Savette had?

  Twice dead, she rises.

  “Dax Cloudspinner, Dragon Rider of the White and Ephretti Oakboon, Dragon Rider of the Green have claimed the fallen city of Vanika as our charge and responsibility and by the formal vows of the Dominion we assume the responsibility of the Dominion for them and will exercise the authority of the Dominar on his behalf and in his absence and of any relevant Castelan to shelter and aid, protect and guide them as expressed in the founding letters of the Dominion.”

  They could do that?

  It’s an old provision, but still valid ... in the Dominion. The question is, will Jalla accept that? She’s the one with the army here.

  Jalla frowned, tilted her head to one side as she thought but eventually she nodded. “I have better things to do than try to keep up a char heap. Be about it.”

  Ephretti was gone before anyone else could speak a word. She hadn’t asked about Lenora. She hadn’t acknowledged us at all. She moved with an other-worldy certainty and authority. What happened to Ephretti in that fire?

  Purification. She’s still Ephretti – but she’s something more now.

  She was reborn.

  Twice dead, she rises.

  Her rising a sign of salvation.

  Favor from the heavens.

  Relief from the fires of hell.

  I could only hope that the prophecy wasn’t just literal. Could Ephretti’s rising be a sign of something more? A sign of a greater turn in this battle?

  “I have business to attend to,” Jalla said, still ignoring the rain as it washed over her face. “I’ll send Renn to you in the morning and we’ll find this path. And you’ll return what you stole from me.”

  I ignored the dig. I hadn’t stolen anything. There was a cough from behind Jalla and I looked to Ahummal and saw Renn sitting on his back, hunched against the rain and wind.

  Jalla crossed her arms over her chest. “You didn’t tell me he was a Castelan, Amel. That’s practically a war leader in your Dominion. As soon as he told me, I realized what an opportunity that was. After all, if I’m going to rule this land, I’ll need a proper partner. I ordered him to wed me two days ago.”

  My mouth dropped open. Jalla had married Renn?

  She smirked. “Don’t look so horrified. We won’t step through the arches until after the war is over.”

  That’s how Baojang war leaders wed. They step through sacred arches together.

  “I don’t plan to be a widow before I’m a wife. But really, Amel, you should have said something. I’m only forgiving you for that slip up because I’ve conquered this city and brought glory to Baojang. At least you can be relied upon for victories, even if you aren’t the brightest among my slaves.” She sighed dramatically. “Sleep. We need you to be sharper tomorrow when you take me to the heart of the earth. You won’t just be able to burn a city down to save your reputation if you mess that up.”

  She turned on her heel and strode off.

  “A lovely woman. Charming personality,” Hubric said dryly.

  “I still think she’s pretty.” Tor’s voice surprised me. He was still here?

  I watched silently as the pouring rains reduced the city’s fire to a crimson smolder. At least the firestorm had lessened. But tomorrow we would march down into the ashes below and open a door into the belly of the earth. I bit my lip as I thought about all the ways that could go wrong.

  “Down into the depths for a second time, into the passage of death,” Hubric said, as if reading my mind. “We’ll rise again – a second time – when it spits us out on the other side. It makes me think of a prophecy:

  Twice dead, she rises.

  Her rising a sign of salvation.

  Favor from the heavens.

  Relief from the fires of hell.”

  I laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I thought that prophecy was about Ephretti.”

  He smiled, shaking the rain out of his hair, only to have it soaked again a moment later.

  “I suspect it will be about both.”

  Read more of Amel’s story in Dragon School: Dust of Death.

  Behind the Scenes:

  USA Today bestselling author, Sarah K. L. Wilson, hails from the rocky Canadian Shield in Northern Ontario where she lives with her husband and two small boys. Her interests include the outdoors, history, and philosophy. Her books are always about fantastical adventures in other worlds.

  Sarah would like to thank Harold Trammel, Eugenia Kollia, and Sarah Brown for their incredible work in beta reading and proofreading this book. Without their big hearts and passion for stories, this book would not be the same.

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  Dragon School Reading Order:

  Dragon School: First Flight

  Dragon School: Initiate

  Dragon School: The Dark Prince

  Dragon School: The Ruby Isles

  Dragon School: Sworn

  Dragon School: Dusk Covenant

  Dragon School: First Message

  Dragon School: Warring Promises

  Dragon School: Prince of Dragons

  Dragon School: Dark Night

  Dragon School: Bright Hopes

  Dragon School: Mark of Loyalty

  Dragon School: Dire Quest

  Dragon School: Ancient Allies

  Dragon School: Pipe of Wings

  Dragon School: Dragon Piper

  Dragon School: Dust of Death

  Find them all on their Amazon series page.

  Why Novellas?

  I love watching television series. I don’t really like movies, because they’re simply too short of a story arc for me. I prefer long, drawn out stories in smaller, bite-sized episodes. Dragon School is my book version of the television dramas that I love. I’m writing the type of series I want to read – long and rich but with short episodes I can read in a single evening. I hope that you’ll enjoy this format as much as I do. I am planning approximately twenty episodes for the first season. The first season will be a complete, self-contained story.

  There is a second season planned for 2019 that will continue in the same world and timeline with a new main character and dragon. Many of the beloved characters from Dragon School will pop in and out of the story, so you won’t miss them too badly. Stay tuned for Dragon School: Chameleon!