Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2)

by Ava Richardson

  Ghastion Point was approaching. I could see the higher mountains and the land sloped up from the moors to the cliffs. The tallest point had an old, white watchtower, and the stones lay tumbled around the tower's base. It was one of the old watchtowers from the days when big beacon fires had been lit to warn of impending attack. I could see Jensen and Wil rounding the tower, turning on a wingtip of their slinky green up ahead as we followed them in.

  “Head’s up!” Seb yelled.

  I looked up to see Beris and Syl on their stocky blue sweep down out of the sky above us. Syl was sending Gaxtal straight at us, and the dragon had his claws extended. I ducked and reached a hand for my sword, but Seb and Kalax worked together to duck the move. Kalax pulled in one wing in, twisted and fell in a roll, out of the way of the oncoming claws.

  My stomach jumped, and I shouted at Seb, “What does he think he’s doing?”

  Kalax grumbled and glanced back at them like she wanted to go after Gaxtal, but Seb was urging her to fly around the point. “We’ll get them. Don’t worry, we’ll get them,” Seb called out.

  They must have been waiting up there for us,” I shouted and pointed to the top of the old watchtower. Anger was burning in my stomach, or maybe I was just picking up Kalax’s anger. With a roar Kalax reached out and nipped Dellos’ tail. Jensen and Wil’s green twisted and turned in mid-air, snarling. The dragon fell two lengths down, and I could see Jensen and Wil struggling to get the dragon back on course.

  “Kalax,” Seb reproached, but I whooped out a yell and shook a fist in the air. That had been a great move. Glancing back at me, Seb shook his head. “Thea, rein it in! You’re picking up too much from Kalax, and you’re only making each other worse.”

  “Worse? That’s your problem, Seb—you’re worrying and thinking too much, and we need to win! I’m not letting your weakness hurt our chances of being Black Claw.” My anger leapt up hotter than before, beating inside me like a fist, making my heart pound and starting a headache behind my eyes.

  “Thea, you’ll lose us the competition!” Seb yelled.

  Another voice echoed in my head. Seb not weak. Seb strong. It was Kalax, and I could feel her disapproval of my judgment.

  My anger evaporated in a moment, leaving me feeling shamed and small. What was upsetting me so much? Why was I so angry at the world? Was it the thought of losing the competition, of not doing my name and my brothers proud? Or was I just pushing too hard to be the best protector there ever was—and even the best Dragon Rider ever. I wasn’t sure.

  For the rest of the flight, I kept quiet, keeping my thoughts to myself, and concentrating on matching my moves to Seb’s to help Kalax gain speed. I wasn’t going to feel anything—not anger or happiness.

  We headed toward Dragon Mountain from the south, over the tiered city of Torvald. I could see flags bright and fluttering above the landing platforms of the academy. Red flags.

  “Combat?” I yelled at Seb. “Are we under attack? The Darkening?”

  Seb shook his head. He pulled out his periscope viewing glass to read the flags. “One red, barred, and the training flag is up. Non-lethal training.” Seb put away his scope. “We’re supposed to pair off and fight.”

  The only other riders around were Beris and Syl on Gaxtal, so I was going to get my chance to smack Beris. Maybe. Usually, the Dragon Horns would sound to start a bout, but we were also expected to practice on our own time—and everything was obviously going to be a surprise today.

  “The commander did say that today was going to be tough,” Seb said. He settled lower into his flying saddle. I glanced around, looking for Gaxtal. I didn’t see him around, so I knew what that meant.

  Looking up I saw Gaxtal screaming out of the heavens in an attacking dive, the sun behind him to try and blind us.

  “Turn now!” I shouted, grabbing hold of my harness.

  Kalax knew what to do. She twisted and rolled. Seb grunted as he was thrown to the side and then backwards in his harness. The turn was so fast that the wind tore at my face and goggles, pushing me backwards. I had to struggle to get to my bow and the wrapped practice arrows.

  Gaxtal shot past us again. I could see Beris grinning. He wasn’t holding a bow, but held a wooden practice lance, one end padded with leather. But they could still leave a bruise or leave your ears ringing if they hit an unpadded leg or hit your helmet. Syl had Gaxtel dive past again, and I knew Beris was aiming for Seb. He threw the lance.

  With a snarl, Kalax flipped and seized the wooden staff with her claws, snapping and dropping the shards. She hadn’t forgotten that Gaxtal had recently come at her. I glanced over and thought I saw a flicker of fear on Beris’ face. Was he worried? Scared at how far he had pushed us? I couldn’t be sure.

  Notching an arrow, I took aim and pulled in a breath. But Gaxtal flapped his wings, and that sent my arrow off course, making it spiral down into the trees below. Cursing, I reaching for another practice arrow, and Gaxtal headed back into the sky.

  Seb urged Kalax to follow the blue. She flew after Gaxtal, winding around one of the academy towers and then sprinting over the landing platforms. Gaxtal was fast, but not as fast as Kalax. We were gaining on them.

  Bent over Kalax’s neck, Seb pointed. He was lining me up for a perfect shot, one that would send an arrow right between the shoulder blades of the dragon and at Beris’ chest. I aimed. Syl was trying to get Gaxtal to work harder and race out of our way. But the blue dragon turned with a shriek—Syl had flown Gaxtal straight into another dragon fight: Jensen and Wil on Dellos against Merik and Varla on Feradima. The three dragons tangled and struggled not to hit into each other, which could send any of them falling to the ground.

  “Pull back,” Seb yelled, shouting at Syl, Beris’ navigator.

  Gaxtal plunged between the two other dragons. Kalax followed, but it was too confusing. Wings flapped, colors flew past. I heard shouts and dragons let out unhappy belches of smoke and gave sharp, warning cries. Seb found a space at last and got us out of the dangerous encounter before anyone could clip Kalax’s wings or bump into her.

  Kalax spun and then pulled up to level out. I pressed a hand to my stomach, my head spinning from the move. Something bounced off Seb’s chest, and I heard him grunt. The Dragon Horns blew one short, sharp sound to indicate a bout had been won. I knew then what had happened. That had been Beris’ practice arrow that had hit Seb. If this had been real combat, I would have lost my navigator.

  As it was, we’d lost the bout.

  Kalax gave a low growl, and Seb glanced back at me, his face pale. I couldn’t see much more with goggles on his face, but Kalax clacked her jaws together, spitting and hissing, which told me Seb probably felt about the same.

  Syl and Beris and Gaxtal settled on a landing platform, and Seb wheeled us around as the gold winner flag was pulled over Gaxtal. Now I wanted to growl.

  More flags went up—we were all to come in and take a break. I glanced at the sun. It was almost midday, and we’d lost not only the race but the combat, too. On the platform, I slid off Kalax, my cheeks hot. I could see Reynalt talking with the other captains.

  Kalax was grumpy—you didn’t need dragon affinity to know that. Her claws raked the landing platform and she barely waited for us take the saddles and harness off before she leapt into the air, shooting over to the enclosure without even waiting for Seb to give her the order to do so.

  That wasn’t going to look good, either. I sighed. They were going to think Seb—the best navigator around—couldn’t control his dragon. And that I couldn’t fight.

  Pulling off his helmet, Seb kicked at a loose pebble on the platform. “She can annoy the hell out of me sometimes,” he whispered to me. “She hasn’t been right all day. It’s like…well, it’s not like her.” He shook his head, picked up his harness and saddle, and we headed for the equipment shed.

  The Dragon Horns sounded again—another bout had been won by someone. I didn’t care who since it wasn’t us. As frustrated as I was with what had just happ
ened, I had to agree with our dragon. This was silly. This wasn’t real. Seb and I had already proven ourselves in a very real battle, but no one seemed to want to remember that.

  In fact, no one seemed to want to remember the Darkening was still out there, Lord Vincent was still a danger, and the threat was a lot more real than all this.

  I scowled at Beris and Syl, who were standing around, chests puffed out like they’d won a real battle. They were going to gloat for days.

  “Just ignore them,” Seb said. But I couldn’t. They’d won and we’d lost.

  We waited for the other riders to return from Ghastion Point, and then watched as they were thrown into immediate battles. I could see the reason for the practice—it was like being ambushed. The commander must want to see how we would react when we were tired from a flight and suddenly had to face battle?

  Well, we reacted like untrained cadets.

  Commander Hegarty and the instructors strolled over to us, but they were busy watching the sky. The headache I’d had earlier came back, pressed against my eyeballs and pounded in my head.

  After another hour of roaring, swooping, curses and cheers, all the bouts had been fought. Jensen and Wil had won. Varla and Merik joined us in kicking the dirt.

  Stepping in front of us, Commander Hegarty scanned everyone’s face. “Attention!” he bellowed. We all jumped into order, everything else forgotten. “And I thought you were Dragon Riders. I’ve seen cadets do better!” Commander Hegarty sounded in full military mode today, his voice sharp and his eyes even sharper. “Do you think the king will thank you for dying so quickly? Or for flying so slowly? Some of you can barely even seem to control your dragons.” I winced and glanced at Seb, but he just kept watching the commander.

  “Your performance was terrible. I expect you to be faster, tougher, meaner. I expect your battles to be longer, for it to be more difficult for anyone to get the advantage of any of you! I also declared a race to Ghastion Point, and the first thing I see is all of you squabbling as if you are all children! Did none of you want a fair race or a fair fight?” His stare traveled over the group. No one moved—I think we were all afraid to even breath. Hegarty snapped his stare to Beris and Syl. “Riders, you two were first back, but it appeared that you won your combat more by luck, and so you may spend the rest of the afternoon practicing your skills in the yard.”

  Beris and Syl nodded and strode away.

  “For the rest of you—physical training. Clean up and come back for a run,” Hegarty barked.

  A groan burst out of the collected ranks.

  I kicked a stone. It had been a test, all of it. And we had all failed. I glanced up and say Reynalt on the landing platforms. He stood where he was, arms folded and stone-faced, staring into the skies. Was he wondering what we’d do if this has been real combat? Was he thinking that the Darkening might attack us soon? Had Lord Vincent grown strong enough to try and take the city? Or was there something else on his mind?

  *

  Chapter 5:

  Leviathan

  I woke with everything hurting, and wondered if Thea was feeling about the same. My legs seemed sore and limp, like I’d run miles and miles, which I guess we had, and my back ached even more than it had when I’d had to help my dad with the forge. Even my hair seemed to hurt.

  I hope that you’re happy about this—this is what we get for not doing our best all the time. I sent the thought to Kalax, and got back a disgusted snort in response. She thought running was for sheep and didn’t understand why we’d ever want to do anything but fly. She was curled up, deep in her cave and warm in the enclosure. But she knew we had plans for the day, and I could tell she was looking forward to it. For now, though, she was happy to rest and wait for my call.

  With a groan, I rolled off the bed and lit the lamp. It was still dark outside. Merik’s snores echoed from the stone walls. I wasn’t surprised. We’d had the worst practice of our lives, and I was still wondering just how we were going to get over it. Thea had been angry with me and with herself, for not doing better. I couldn’t blame her. I’d been more worried about her than I had been focused on the race and the battle. I kept thinking how she’d looked when she’d almost died, how warm and slick her blood had felt on my hands. I’d been thinking about all the wrong things.

  Letting out a breath, I dressed quickly. We’d all been given the day off and it had been strongly recommended we use it for studying tactics and strategies. However, Thea had other plans in mind, and those plans kept my stomach churning this morning. She wanted us to fly to the Leviathan Mountains. The largest peak in the range was the one she was sure had to be the resting place of the Armor Stone. I wasn’t sure why she felt so certain about it. It was a huge area to cover. But if we went and saw nothing was there, at least she’d feel better.

  With my tunic, pants and boots on, I headed to the kitchens to see if I could pick up some food that we could take with us for the day. The smell of warm bread rolled over me, warm and encouraging.

  Peeking into the kitchen, I saw Margaret the academy cook, working at one of the long tables in the huge space. She looked up from her bowl and grinned at me. She already had her sleeves rolled up and flour dusted her arms and nose, and a large tray stood on the table near her, stacked with bowls. The kitchen smelled of meat roasting and I could hear something bubbling as it sat over the fire. “Sebastian Smith, you’re up early,” she said.

  “Morning, Margaret,” I said and tried to look like I didn’t have anything planned—like flying off to the Leviathan Mountains.

  “Might as well make yourself useful.” Margaret gestured to the tray. “Take this to the keep for morning meal.”

  I nodded, feeling a flush of warmth. I always felt more comfortable around Margaret. Like me, she wasn’t a noble. She worked with her hands for a living just as I had before coming here, and she always knew the goings-on of Monger’s Lane. If hanging out with Kalax in the enclosure was my number one place to be, in the kitchens with Margaret was the second.

  I took the bowls into the keep. It was early enough that the girls who worked under Margaret were already there, sweeping the stone floors and cleaning last night’s ashes from the hearth. I headed back to the kitchens.

  “Thank you, Seb,” Margaret said. “I guess you’re down here for a bite to eat?”

  “I wouldn’t say no.” I grinned and sat down at the table, where fruit sat stacked high in huge wooden bowls and fresh loaves of bread cooled under linen towels. “Thea and I might take Kalax to fish in Hammal Lake.”

  “Ah, well, there’s a stack of meat pies on the shelf, and apples in the bin. Take as many as you need.”

  Helping myself to three meat pies, two for me and one for Thea, I watched Margaret work. There was something off about her—a small frown pulled her eyebrows tight, and I thought she’d sounded a little worried. I wrapped the pies in a cloth and asked, “What’s the bother?”

  She let out a sigh and turned to face me, flour on her hands. She was about the age my mother would have been, and I sometimes wondered if she saw me as rather like a son to her. Wiping her hands on her apron, she came over and sat down. “Well, I can’t say that there’s nothing wrong—but I was begged to not say anything.”

  I rolled my eyes. She could no more keep a secret than I could stay away from dragons. “Margaret, you know me. I won’t tell a soul.”

  She gave me a sideways glance. “Actually Seb, it was about you. I saw your step-ma the other day, down in the market when we were putting in orders for supplies.”

  “Is she well?” I wet my lips. My da had remarried after we’d lost my mother. She was a good woman, and I worried about her and my sister. I knew they were proud I’d become a Dragon Rider, but I also knew my da had no help now with the smithy.

  “She’s fine, lad.” Margaret sighed and put her hand over mine. “She just misses you, is all. She heard about that fuss in King’s Village, and she asked me how you were doing, and promised me not to tell you of it.”
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  “Margaret, there’s something else. I can see it in your eyes.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell—but your father’s been poorly.”

  “Drunk you mean?” Margaret knew my father’s reputation. It often seemed like half the city knew.

  Margaret shook her head. “It’s not the drink. It’s a cough that won’t leave him. He’s not been able to work.”

  I gave a snort. “Not been wanting to work is more than likely.”

  She slapped my arm. “Seb, have a little respect! That man is your father!”

  “He was never much of one to me. But…yes, I know he’s blood. What if I happen by, and maybe take them some of your soup with me?”

  She nodded. “Good. You do just that. And not a word of our little chat,” Margaret said, fixing me with a stern glare.

  I nodded and headed back to my room, both worried now and wondering if that cough was something worse.

  Merik was up and dressed and doing his stretching exercises. Tall and thin, he could always outrun any of us and he looked now as if yesterday had been no effort at all for him. The sun was still more of a promise—the sky had lightened to gray, but it was still far too early for almost anyone else to be up.

  Slipping on the optics that helped him see better, Merik peered at the cloth in my hands. “What’s that? Breakfast?”

  I slapped his hand away. “Hands off. You get your own.”

  Kalax grumbled over me doing that as she stretched. Bad moods seemed to be catching of late. But Merik only laughed. “So…are you ready?” I knew what he was talking about—our search for the Armor Stone. But I didn’t want to say anything. Every time we mentioned the stone, it felt odd—as if we were poking at something we should leave alone.

  Merik turned to his small bedside table, where he had a stack of scrolls. He’d been reading them last night by the light of a lamp when I’d fallen asleep. His long fingers flickered over them, opening their bindings with practiced ease, checking until he found the roll he was looking for. He presented it to me. “I found this last night.”