Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2)

by Ava Richardson

  I sipped my mead and told her, “That’s not a good thing.”

  “If we defeated Lord Vincent once, we can do it again,” Thea said.

  Someone started to play a guitar. Others started to sing. I was glad of it. We could more easily talk without being heard. Turning to Thea, I told her, “He still has the Memory Stone. If the rumors are true, he’s still turning villages into his army.”

  She rolled her eyes. Her stew came. She poked at it with a spoon. “I know all of that—I know it only too well. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

  I glanced at Merik and Varla. They swapped a glance, and then Varla leaned in. “We were looking around the old library…just for any old tales about…well, you know. Some stories refer to the three stones separately. That this great king had the Armor Stone, and so defeated the Wildmen of J’hul, or that the Healing Stone was used to save some princess or another. The trouble is that none of these legends match up. It’s like they were written by someone who had only heard the tales. But…the stones are always large and egg-shaped…sometimes they glow, sometimes they crack open—other times they even make a noise.”

  I frowned. “Like what?”

  Varla made a face. “That doesn’t matter. What does matter is that the oldest story has two clues…armor was used at a battle high up on Leviathan Mountain but a monk took the Armor Stone afterwards to Wychwood.” She went back to eating her broth.

  I stared at her. “Do you know how big Leviathan Mountain is? And Wychwood? That’s nowhere near there and even bigger.”

  Merik nodded. “My old gran used to tell me stories that the last time the Darkening rose, the Armor Stone made the king’s gold dragon invincible as he fought the final battle above Leviathan Mountain.”

  Thea thumped the table. “So we go there.”

  Merik glanced around and shook his head. “That’s not the story Varla dug up. In that, the stone went to a princess to keep her safe as she led her own forces to Wychwood. And then a monk took it after the king died and fled to some far off monastery to keep it safe.”

  Thea growled. I stared at my mead. “On a mountainside or in a forest…it’s obvious no one wanted it found.”

  “It’s got to be. There are three stones—we know that for a fact. The commander has one - hidden. Lord Vincent had one, and we can’t let him get something like perfect armor. We need to get the third stone,” Thea said, shooting me an annoyed glance. “The next free day we have, Seb and I we’ll search Leviathan Mountain. Varla, you and Merik, take Wychwood.”

  “You’re forgetting other Dragon Riders are out there on patrol. We’ll end up on report,” I told her.

  “We have to do something,” Thea said.

  I started to tell her we could wait—that waiting wasn’t always a bad thing. But an uneasy sense of being watched came over me. I shivered and looked up. The old man in the gray cloak was watching our table. He ducked his head and turned as if I’d caught him in the act.

  Frowning, I stood. The old man made for the door. At the door, he threw a glance back over his shoulder and straight at our table. For a brief moment our eyes locked, and I could see sharp eyes peering out from the hood. These were not the signs of drunkenness I knew so well, having seen them in my father —and that man was not drunk.

  Jumping up from the table, I started after him.

  “Hey!” Varla said.

  “What is it?” Thea asked.

  I pushed through the crowd—why was that man watching us, who was he? I wanted answers. The tavern door swung closed behind the cloaked figure. Bursting out into the cold night after him, I looked up and down the cobbled road. He seemed to have vanished. I couldn’t hear footsteps or see his gray cloak.

  Heading around the back of the tavern, I glanced into the stables, my heart hammering. Nothing. Hearing footsteps behind me, I turned to see Thea dragging on her cloak. “What is it?”

  “We were being watched.”

  Thea looked at me warily. “Who was it?”

  “An old man in a cloak. I’m sure he was spying on us.”

  She pulled her cloak tighter. “Do you think…do you think he’s part of the Darkening? One of…of Lord Vincent’s agents?”

  I stared into the night, but there was no sign of anyone. “I don’t know. But if I see him again, I’m going to make certain I get a few answers.”

  *

  Chapter 4:

  A Sense of Disquiet

  Falling…falling…darkness…cold…who am I? What…? Pain…spreading…so cold…

  With a shout, I opened my eyes and sat up.

  My bedsprings squeaked and the covers tangled around my feet. No wonder I’d been cold. I heard the strike of a flint against steel and a light flared. The yellow glow of a lamp lit the room and Varla’s pale face appeared out of the darkness, her eyebrows pulled tight and her hair a mess around her face. “Thea, what’s wrong—you were mumbling and groaning in your sleep as if something awful was happening.”

  Annoyance bit into me. “Nothing wrong. Just bad dreams.” Grabbing the covers, I pulled them back up over me. But my muscles were aching, and I still felt dizzy as if I really had been falling. Why was it that bad dreams could sometimes make you feel worse after they had gone? Dread itched at the back of my skull, and sat on my chest like a weight. Seeing Varla’s kind eyes just made me feel worse. “Sorry,” I muttered.

  Varla shrugged. “Might as well get up. It’s almost time anyway.” She threw off her covers and started to dress, brushing her hair and braiding it, then pulling on her tunic and pants, and the quilted jerkin that went over them.

  I climbed out of bed. The thick, colorful carpet didn’t seem to do anything to make the stone floor seem warmer. Varla was right to dress so fast. I did the same and stepped over to help her with the straps on the back of her jerkin. “Here, let me do that,” I said, trying to make up for my earlier bad temper.

  “Thanks.” Varla lifted her arms, letting me tighten her training gear.

  Finished, I slapped her on the back. “There. Good as any of the best.” I was trying hard to sound chipper, but it was more than difficult. That dream was hanging onto me, and today was going to be a hard day for all of us. What I really wanted to do was crawl back into my bed and sleep another hour. That wasn’t like me and I tried to shake off the mood.

  Varla frowned at her image in the long mirror my mother had sent me for the room. The rest of the room was pretty bare. We had our two narrow beds, two chests for our clothes, the mirror and the carpet. Varla’s mother had sent that to her—I knew it was a tempting reminder of the luxury back at Varla’s home. I’d have the same at House Flamma—poor Varla got letters every other day from her parents, urging her to return, telling all she was missing by not acting like every other noble girl in Torvald. Varla wasn’t like me in many ways—she was skinny, awkward at times, and liked books better than people. But she was a Dragon Rider—we had that in common.

  Turning to me, Varla shrugged. “I just wish…well, I’m glad Feradima was okay with choosing Merik instead of going back to the enclosure. But sometimes, I just wish I was like any other rider on any other team. Everyone’s always pointing us out—like we’re the odd ones here. ‘Oh, look, there’s one of the few girls here, and she’s the one whose dragon had to make a second choice.’”

  I nodded. Varla and I were two of the only female riders—that was why we roomed together. It was enough to make us feel like we didn’t really belong here. I also knew Varla’s folks were still pressuring her to give this up and go back home where she could marry and raise kids. I shivered—and it wasn’t just from the cold. At least my father had seemed proud that I was following Flamma tradition by becoming a rider.

  But one of the other problems of a second choosing was that the dragon and its riders didn’t often have the same connection as from a first choice rider. I knew Varla always worried about that when she flew.

  “Cheer up. Merik is a good navigator. He’s the best at signals
, better even than the senior riders. Besides, today is practice tournaments, all padded weapons—and no one’s in danger of being sent home. We’re not cadets anymore. And it’s the sort of training that might just save us in a real battle.”

  Varla grumbled, but she helped me get ready.

  We headed down to the keep to break our fast of the night. Our boots clumped on the stone stairs.

  Out in the practice yard, the sun had just cleared the walls. A chill hung in the air, stinging my cheeks and burning my lungs. I headed over to Seb—who was looking worried as usual, and probably thinking about the Armor Stone. Sometimes he thought way too much. We fell in step and headed for the keep, falling in line with the other riders to get our meal.

  “Tomorrow,” Seb whispered to me. The heavy, padded woolen tunic we all had to wear for today’s training made him look broader than I knew he was. However, he had filled out. He was no longer the skinny boy I’d first met on choosing day. “I was talking to Merik and he says that we might be able to get a day off tomorrow.”

  I nodded. The unease from my dream hadn’t left me. The morning light seemed a little too bright, too washed out. Was I coming down with something?

  Not feeling hungry, I settled for bread and a small bowl of porridge. Merik joined us and the talk shifted to the training for the day. We were all looking forward to some action—at least I was.

  After clearing the tables, we headed out of the keep and assembled in the practice yard. The Dragon Horns—the great, brass horns that shaped our lives—blew to announce the start of the day’s training.

  Shifting on my feet, I heard boot steps behind us and the instructors—all senior riders—and Commander Hegarty strode forward. Instructor Mordecai was with them—not my favorite instructor. He limped, and as usual a scowl pulled down his face. Sometimes I thought he’d prefer to have the academy kept empty and all to himself. The feeling of unease from my dream returned—as if the world was still not right and I was still dreaming. I pinched myself to check—it hurt, so I knew I was awake.

  I could also see my brother Reynalt with them. Although Ryan flew with Prince Justin, it was Reynalt who was one of the senior captains. He was on almost on an even footing with Commander Hegarty—and while Hegarty was entrusted with the academy to train all riders, Reynalt was our tactical leader out in the air.

  I heard Wil whisper to Jensen, “What is he doing here?”

  “Evaluations,” Jensen whispered back.

  I frowned at them, but kept facing forward. When we’d been recruits, evaluations could mean getting kicked out of the academy entirely if we proved we weren’t good enough to be Dragon Riders. These evaluations could only mean it was time to find out what squadron we’d fly with, and what our roles would be.

  Dragon Riders from the academy would defend the city. The King’s Own, which Erufon had once led, was down to Prince Justin and Ryan—just one dragon. The Black Claws—Reynalt’s squadron—were always the first into battle and the fiercest fighters. But some dragons were heavier and better suited to transporting heavy loads. And the Green Flags acted as messengers, traveling vast distances—they were also usually made up of the skinnier, green marsh dragons.

  Kalax was a crimson red—strong and fast and a natural candidate for frontline duty, so I was hoping we were become Black Claws.

  “Today you will be conducting a series of practice drills,” Commander Hegarty barked. It was odd. Every time I looked at him the feeling that something wasn’t quite right came back. Now I knew I should have eaten more at breakfast. I should be looking forward to the day, and not worrying about stupid dreams.

  “It’s going to be a long, hard day in the saddle, ladies and gents! Your first mission is to fly to Ghastion Point and back. First team back is the winner!”

  A moment of stilled amazement held everyone. Unless it was an emergency situation, Hegarty was a stickler for flight protocol. He wanted the flights to be logged, the correct flags to be produced to be able to signal the approaches of each dragon, the kits inspected before they went out. He never just announced a scramble like this.

  “It’s a combat-response practice,” Jensen said, already breaking rank and dragging Wil with him to the equipment sheds.

  I started running as well. If the commander wanted to see how fast we could get in the air and deploy, I was going to show him we could be the fastest. At the equipment sheds, riders jammed in, everyone trying to grab their harnesses and saddles.

  Seb got his saddle and ducked out. A nudge lifted in the back of my mind—an urge to get to the platforms. I knew he was calling Kalax. Unlike the others, his dragon affinity meant he didn’t need to have a special dragon whistle to call our dragon. I could even feel a shiver as he touched minds with Kalax. Seb had been trying to teach me to do this, but it seemed to me that his dragon affinity was more than rubbing off on me lately.

  “Get off!” Shakasta shouted, pushing one of the younger riders out of the way.

  “Out of the way,” Beris snarled, pushing Merik to one side and grabbing his saddle. Beris ran for the platform, but Jensen was reaching up for saddles and harness, throwing them to whom they belonged. “We’ll all get out quicker this way,” he said.

  I caught my saddle and heard Kalax’s roar from above. A flicker of pride stirred. She was the first dragon to arrive, none of the others had started calling their mounts yet. Seeing Merik fumbled with his saddle, I stopped to help him. He wore special goggles for his bad eyesight and hadn’t put them on yet. Varla grimaced and stopped too, picking up the saddle and putting it into his hands. I grabbed my bow, practice arrows and the jousting staffs we used in practice.

  Heading outside, I saw Seb waving to me from the landing platform where Kalax sat, snuffing the air. Hefting my saddle, I ran up the stairs. Kalax greeted me with a bird-like chirrup, and we set about getting the saddles and harness in place.

  With a roar, Beris and Syl’s dragon launched into the air. Their bully-tactics had given them an advantage, it seemed.

  Was that what we’re being taught? That sometimes, in the heat of battle you had to put yourself and your team first?

  “Clips secure,” Seb shouted, cinching the leather straps that held his saddle. He worked fast, and Kalax seemed eager to fly. She kept stretching her wings as if to ask now…now…now? Climbing onto Kalax, I yelled at Seb to get moving. He jumped into his saddle, fastened his harness, and leaned down to whisper to Kalax. She swung around and hurled herself from the platform with a roar.

  That familiar sensation of panic and of my stomach trying to force its way up through my throat spread through me. The ground spun in shades of brown and green. Then Kalax spread her wings and we were flying—swooping low over the road and the trees, heading after Beris and Syl. Behind us, other dragons were noisily arriving to the calls of their riders’ whistles. We were second in the air. Kalax, her nose twitching, gave a thrumming roar that I felt underneath me.

  Turning, Seb grinned at me. “She wants to hunt…and fight.”

  I matched his grin with one of my own. It felt good to have an eager dragon. All too soon, Kalax seemed to realize we weren’t on patrol or on a mission at all. She soared up into the sky and began to glide.

  Kalax—come on. We have to win. We’ve got to earn a spot in the Black Claw squadron.

  I could have almost cried with frustration. “Seb, you’ve got to tell Kalax this is a race.” He nodded and leaned over Kalax again. She turned her head to the south where I could see the sparkle of sun on water.

  “She’s bored,” Seb yelled back at me. “She just wants to hunt, not practice.”

  I knew how she felt, but now was not the time for Kalax to play. Glancing back, I saw Jensen and Wil’s dragon up in the air and gaining on us. I turned to Seb. “Tell Kalax if we don’t do well in this, we’ll be stuck carrying sacks of grain from one dreary village market to another for the rest of our lives.”

  Seb didn’t have to tell Kalax—she seemed to figure it out from what I’d
said. She trilled and picked up speed. She still wasn’t going flat-out, but she pulled ahead of Jensen and Wil.

  We had passed over the city and now were out over the fields. Kalax flew high, using the air currents to carry her as she swooped down over some low mountains. Ghastion Point was hours away by horse, but a dragon could fly there in a fairly short time—and Seb needed to keep Kalax interested.

  Beris and Syl and their stocky blue dragon, Gaxtal, were far ahead now. I gripped my flight harness, thinking there wouldn’t be much for a protector to do on this challenge. I was also thinking about beating Beris in single combat—I’d done that before and it would be a pleasure now to do that again. But even though we were in second, a sense of peace welled up through me. This was where I belonged—in the air with my dragon and a navigator.

  Kalax seemed to agree with me, for she gave a soft cry.

  Why spend time on silly things, when there are enemies to fight?

  Seb turned around to look at me, his eyes wide with surprise. “Was that you talking to Kalax?”

  I shrugged. “I—I don’t know.”

  Seb nodded. “Can you sense any other dragons? The others behind us maybe?”

  “Seb, we’ve tried that before. You have the affinity. I’m barely able to get through to Kalax.” But I realized there was something else pulling at my senses, too. It felt like something was pulling me back to the academy…and something further south.

  Was that what it is like to feel the dragons? Was that what Seb felt—a tug?

  The strange pull started to fade, leaving me confused. I about to tell Seb about it when Jensen and Wil on their sinuous, green dragon dove past us, both of them yelling. They’d obviously caught a higher and more powerful air current and used it to shoot past us.

  “Kalax!” Seb shouted.

  Kalax seemed to decide this was a game she might be interested in. She flapped her powerful wings and started to close the gap with Jensen and Wil’s green dragon, Dellos.