“They’re sure to hear us if you keep that up,” Thea hissed at me. She waved for me to follow her tracks, but it seemed like all I could hear was my boots on the crisp ground and my loud breathing.
At last, Thea ducked behind a fallen log and waved for me to do the same. Whispering, she said, “There’s a light.” She pointed to where one of the shuttered windows of the tiny cabin had a gleam of orange around the edges. “Candles. Not lanterns,” Thea said. “They’re trying to go unnoticed.”
We waited, watching the cabin. The night chilled. The screech owls woke and gave a few hoots. The sound of scurrying animals in the forest answered—smaller creatures getting out of the way of the owls. My feet and legs started to feel like blocks of ice. The light remained the same, and no one came or went. I could tell Kalax was still alert, happily enjoying the night air.
“Well?” Thea hissed. “Is anything going to happen?” She shifted and started to stand.
Grabbing the edge of her cloak, I pulled her down. “The commander told us to keep our distance.”
“He told us to keep an eye on things…that means investigate. It means knowing, at least, what we’re supposed to be looking for.”
“Thea, we’re supposed to watch.” For now, at least, she sat back down.
Two hours later, she said, “I can’t stand this. What is the point of just sitting around?” She turned to me. “You have to let me get closer so maybe I can hear something.”
“No—Thea.” My throat tightened. “No, if anyone is going to go, it should be me.”
“What?” She turned to look at me.
“Well, I’m…I’m bigger.” I was glad it was dark and Thea couldn’t see how red my face had to be.
She gave a muffled snort. “Seb, I’m the better fighter. What—do you think I can’t handle myself in a stupid cabin?” I could hear she was starting to be annoyed, and knew that I would have to tell her something or her own sense of pride would force her to break into that cabin.
“It’s because I don’t want to see you hurt!” I pushed out the words with a fast breath.
“Hurt?” Thea sounded like she couldn’t understand anything I said. “But Seb, we’re Dragon Riders. We go into danger. It’s what we do.”
“I…I saw you wounded, Thea. I don’t want to go through that again.”
“Oh, Seb.” Reaching out, she put her hand on my arm.
For a long moment, we just sat there, not saying anything. In the end, it was Thea who broke the silence, and she sounded as embarrassed as I felt. “If it makes any difference, I…I didn’t know.” She let out a sigh. “I’ve found it…difficult, too.”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything.”
“Well, you still have to let me do the things that I have to do.” She gave a dry snort of laughter. “You sound more like my mother now. She wants me to go to this Winter Ball, and I know she’s going to try and make a match for me—thinking that’ll be better than me wanting to be a Dragon Rider.”
A mix of happy, hot and angry emotions bubbled inside me, churning like molten metal. I was happy that Thea was still so fiercely herself—but I hated knowing she’d be dancing with a bunch of other nobles and back in a world where I didn’t belong.
I didn’t like the idea, but I didn’t want to think about it.
We took turns sleeping and watching, and at dawn we headed back to find Kalax lightly dozing and waiting for us. But I had the feeling not much of anything had been settled.
*
The next day was long and I was barely managing to get through it without wanting to burn down the academy. That night I headed back to the cabin with Thea. She insisted we creep just a little closer, and since we didn’t see anyone there, we did. But we didn’t hear anything, either. We took turns sleeping and watching, and this time I’d come ready with thick blankets. It also seemed as though something had changed between us, and in a good way. Thea complained about the waiting, but she seemed more relaxed—as if telling me what she was worried about had helped her face it. I felt like that, too—it was good that she knew how I felt.
By the third day, I was exhausted. I wanted the commander back just so I could stay in bed at night. Over porridge in the morning, I asked Merik, “Any news?”
I hadn’t seen much of Merik. He’d been re-cataloguing the maps, and he blinked at me like his brain was still whirling with all of the map symbols and signals. “News?” he asked and blinked again.
Hoping that it was from long day like the rest of us had been putting in and not any more exposure to the Memory Stone, I told him, “From the commander? The prince?”
“Oh, I thought you meant the signals news,” he said.
I kicked myself. Up in the map tower, he’d be able to see all the message flags and banners across Torvald.
Merik pushed his porridge around in the bowl. “No, no flags or messenger dragons from the squadrons. But the signals show we’ve doubled guards on Southgate—some travelers were attacked by bandits.”
“Bandits? This close to the citadel?” I stared at Merik, my face cold and my hands icy.
“Yeah, up from the south. It doesn’t seem like good news down there.”
I thought back to the fierce men we had fought just a short time ago. They had been from the south. And that was where the commander was trying to map. “What do you think is going on?”
Merik pushed away his bowl and picked up a hunk of bread. “To be honest, the south was always more than a little lawless—sometimes they keep up diplomatic and trade ties with us, other times, they’re more like a bunch of bandits. I think it’s due to them having a lot of different dukedoms—they mostly keep busy warring with each other. But now we’re seeing more pirate attacks and bandits across the border.”
“You think rule and law has broken down?”
Merik shrugged. “Or…someone has them all organized and looking to us. Everyone knows the Southern Realm has a lot of dragons, but not as big as the ones we have.” He leaned closer. “If I was the Darkening, I’d look there to gather new soldiers and strength.”
Letting out a breath, I clenched a fist. Then another thought hit me. “Is that where the prince and the commander went? A stealth attack on the Southern Realm?”
Merik pulled back and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. Do you know what would happen to you if you and Thea took Kalax, unauthorized, and just flew off south? And what if you’re wrong and you start a war?”
“What? It’s not like we’re not riders and can’t fly when we want or need to.”
“Yeah, but you can’t leave me and Varla here with just Jensen and Wil to run the whole academy. What if Erufon decides to pick a fight with Gorgax again in the enclosure?”
I winced. He had a point. The older dragon wasn’t settling in and kept picking battles with Gorgax, one of the largest blues.
“No one else has your gift with dragons,” Merik said. “Just wait until the commander gets back, and then you’ll know exactly what he did.”
I groaned, but I couldn’t let my friends down or get them into trouble. We had to work together if we were going to have a chance of succeeding. Besides, I needed to think about keeping an eye on the cabin tonight. I really was too busy to be able to fly anywhere. I stood and patted his shoulder. “Okay, Merik. Not yet. I’ll just hit my bunk for a bit.”
“Ugh, I wish I could do the same. But too much to do.” Merik stood and we both walked out of the keep, each heading our different ways.
*
The bell that woke me wasn’t the heavy, sonorous call of the Dragon Horns. It seemed a shrill clanking. I rolled off of my bunk and headed to the window. The practice grounds below looked deserted and the gathering purple in the sky told me it was nearing dark. I could hear distant groans of dragons, and that bell.
I’d tumbled into bed fully dressed, so I grabbed the large, iron ring filled with the master keys for the academy and followed the noise through the corridors, across the practice yard,
and up the stairs to one of the watchtowers. Opening the door, I pulled it back and walked into a complicated array of strings, bells, and pulleys.
Staring at them I wondered if I should go get Merik. But only one bell was ringing, and I found a tiny brass plaque underneath the bell had the words: Northern Slopes 2.
Where had I seen that designation before?
Then I remembered the maps of Dragon Mountain.
Most of the largest features were named, such as Tabbit’s Hollow or the Ridgeway, but there were still areas which were just given codes like northern slope or south-western reach. But what did the bell mean? We were being attacked?
From the enclosure, Kalax snuffed the air, and I could tell she had picked up on my rising worry.
I didn’t know if I should sound the Dragon Horns. But what if it was just a wild dragon that had somehow tripped the wires out there to ring the bell? I didn’t know, but a dragon could find out. As everyone knew, dragons had an excellent sense of smell. They knew different people from different dragons and other animals, and even tell what the person was wearing and where they had been. I glanced out the window to the enclosure and thought, Can you fly out to—
Yes! Kalax hunt! I glimpsed her red scales as she sprang into the air over the enclosure. She circled once and then headed to the north.
I waited nervously by the bell, wondering what was about to happen, what I was going to hear. The bell had stopped ringing.
Kalax had kept the connection between us open as she soared into the dark sky. I caught some of her feelings—a ripple of enthusiasm, joy for the flight, the feel of wind on her face and under her wings. Her size seemed to become mine. I stretched out my arms like they were wings.
On the far northern side of the mountain, the smell of snow carried to me on the breeze. It seemed as if I could smell everything—the cooling earth, the smell of the animals below. And I could hear them, too. Hearts pounding, little feet skittering as they saw my shadow blot out the stars and moon. I could have gasped. The experience was so much fuller than anything I could have imagined. I’d never known dragons were so sensitive. I could feel the tiniest breeze, and could sense when it was shifting. My leathery wings caught the smallest vibration from the land and sky. Even the clouds smelled differently—most were clean and wet, but some carried a hint of forest leaves or the salt of the ocean.
The smell of a thousand fires from the city wound into the sky, and I could smell cobbles and meals and unwashed clothes. It almost made me gag, until another, fainter scent caught at my mind—a hint of sand and incense.
The south—you can smell the Southern Realm?
When the wind blows right. Kalax was proud and almost purring in my mind. Now you know what flying is really like, little one.
Yes, now I knew, and I was amazed.
Kalax turned her attention to the ground below, scanning it for movement, picking out the wet-lanolin smell of huddled sheep, then the scent of a small herd of deer, their hearts pounding as they hid under some trees, and the disgruntled, annoyed yap of a dog-fox, who didn’t like his prey behind scared off. Kalax swept lower. She was showing off, I knew, showing me what she was really capable of.
I am tired of practice. I can fight better than any other.
I didn’t doubt it, but I thought back at her that the training wasn’t just for her—it was for me and Thea. Kalax gave a snort of laughter, and then I caught something, through our link—the scent of a human. The person carried dirt on him as if he’d spent a long time tramping through the woods, and something else—a collection of strange scents like herbs and flowers. Where had I smelled those before?
Kalax circled over the spot where the figure was—she could see far better than I could in the dark. He’s going to the place where we go at night. Want me to stop him?
He’s going to the cabin? No…don’t stop him, I added quickly.
Clearly frustrated, Kalax thought back at me how easily she could capture people with her claws. She sent me an image that was more like a memory—one of her picking up Thea and then me.
I gasped with the thought of being able to share not just the senses and thoughts of a dragon, but a dragon’s memories? Was this what the affinity with dragons really could do?
Kalax told me she was flying away from the man who smelled of forests and herbs so he wouldn’t see her. But she also sent me an image of the man’s face—one I recognized. It was the bearded man whom I’d confronted in Torvald.
You want me to hunt this man? Kalax wheeled in the air.
No, just see that he does go to the cabin. Then we’ll go there together.
Yes. You, me, and Thea hunt together! Kalax broke the connection, and I slumped against the stone wall, feeling small and clumsy now. If I closed my eyes, I could almost remember the feel of wings growing out of my shoulders and the hint of the hot, southern trade winds to the sky.
Kalax sent a quick thought at me as sharp as a dart. He goes to cabin. They smell the same.
I straightened. To be honest I was almost grateful not to share more with Kalax right now. The dragon’s senses had left me a little confused, as if I wasn’t Sebastian at all, but Kalax. I shook my head and rubbed my cheeks. Then I hurried out. Thea was going to be waiting for me at the back gate and I still needed to get my gear.
*
Chapter 12:
Thea Storms In
Seb was late. I stood in the darkness by the rear gate, my kit already on my shoulder. Tonight I was going to bring some snacks as well as another blanket. I still wondered if Commander Hegarty had used this to keep us busy—but maybe it was better than hunting up rocks that weren’t the Armor Stone. I was also angry that neither of my brothers had trusted me enough to tell me where they were going. Ryan and Reynalt were about as important as anyone could be, and they still acted like I was their kid sister who tagged after them.
I shuffled my feet and wished I had put on my thicker breeches. There was a frost to the air tonight, and this afternoon I’d even seen a flurry of snow. But it was clear now, and I had no intention of missing out on anything that might happen tonight. I also had no intention of opening the box my mother had sent me.
I knew what it held. I had opened the note from her and had read that she was sending me a selection of gowns for the ball. I was to choose two—one for the formal meal and one for dancing. She’d written that it was only two nights until the Winter Ball—much that I cared—and had underlined that part several times.
I was tempted to write back a note that I would wear the academy dress uniform. But I knew that wouldn’t work. Once she saw me dressed as a Dragon Rider, she’d just nag me until I changed.
“May the First Dragon strike me down if I ever, ever wear anything flouncy,” I whispered to the skies. I also wasn’t sure if I even remembered how to dance. I knew a two-blade fighting stance, and how to move with a staff, but the Jokozan or the Twimble Three-Step were only distant memories for me. I’d learned them when I was six, and that seemed almost another lifetime ago. Visions of me falling over in ridiculous, high-heeled shoes encrusted with diamonds left me shuddering. I didn’t like that Mother seemed to be putting so much effort into one ball—as if my future hung on this one event. Was she like everyone else—worried about me? That I’d die again?
A voice from behind startled me and I turned fast.
“Hey,” Seb said, stepping from the darkness, his saddle slung over his shoulder. He grinned at me. “You would not believe what just happened. It was amazing! Although a little bit uncomfortable. But amazing!”
“Do I want to hear this? Was it a spectacularly good apple pie tonight?” I asked. We headed out, latching the gate behind us. Seb, I knew, would have a key that would get us back in again.
Seb proceeded to tell me how Kalax had shared not just thoughts, but all her sensations of flying and even memories with him. I nodded, but I couldn’t help but feel a little left out, as if Kalax like Seb better than she liked me. I pushed the idea away and ask
ed, “So you think this is the same man who has been following you?” We climbed up the mountain path to where Kalax sat waiting for us, her eyes bright even in the dim starlight.
Seb started to harness Kalax. “He has to be. But he doesn’t know that we’re watching him. He just thinks that he’s watching us. And then there was the smell on him. Well, the smell that Kalax picked up and then I smelled it, but I didn’t realize what it had reminded me at the time.”
“What?” I asked. I had my saddle in place and mounted Kalax. She leaped from the ground with a powerful thrust. The cold air hit my face.
Seb turned to me. “Instructor Mordecai’s laboratory,” he said. “When he made me that medicine.”
I gave another shiver, and not just for the cold.
We quickly reached Tabbit’s Hollow, and I could feel Kalax’s desire to hunt up this man and have battle. My heart answered with a fast jump and I smiled.
But Seb coaxed Kalax into a landing, and told her, “No. We have to wait and watch, like last time.”
Kalax cocked her head sideways to look at me, and I nodded. I knew she could sense what I was thinking about doing, and she approved.
I turned to find our path back through the overgrown and crowded woods between us and the answers we were seeking.
“Hey, Thea, wait.” Seb followed behind me, crashing through the brambles. “We’re supposed to be quiet. Slow down.”
In just a few more minutes, I saw the dark shape of the log cabin ahead. One window was framed with a faint, orange glow. I glanced at Seb and then settled my kit behind the fallen where we’d kept watch on the other nights.
“Thea?” Seb said his voice soft, but also thick with worry.
I faced him. “Seb, this guy attacked you. He’s been following you. And while you might be content to keep waiting, I’m not.” I hopped over the log and reached for my sword.
Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2) Page 11
