I sat up, my heart racing. This was what we’d needed—well, almost. But at least it was true that the Dragon Stone really existed. Unless…unless this was just a story. I glanced at Thea, but she was leaning forward, her eyes glazed as if she couldn’t look away from Jodreth.
He started to talk again, and I looked back at him, too. “The elder brother found his father’s hidden palace and the hidden location of his father’s tomb. He found the Dragon Stone. With it, and the Healing Stone and the Armor Stone from his brother of the south, the eldest defeated was able to take the Memory Stone from his middle brother. But he could not bring himself to kill his brother, and so he banished him forever from the lands. Or so he thought. The north was left to become a lawless place of wild dragons and wild men. The Southern Realm no longer had a strong king, and so the lords divided the land between them. But the eldest brother allowed the monks who had helped him to found the academy and the city of Torvald grew strong. But over the years, the eldest brother became afraid—both of what had happened and of the Dragon Stones. He feared the stones had too much power. He also feared the monks knew this and might one day take him from the throne. And so he banned the Draconis Order and the monasteries became ruins. He hid the Dragon Stones, and soon even the stories were forgotten. The old magic weakened in the veins of people, and now the only thing that has survived is the friendship between dragons and humans here at Dragon Mountain.”
Sitting back, Jodreth blew out a breath as if he had run a very long way and was tired. He shook his head. “But the Darkening, our old foe, is patient. And was never really defeated. The middle brother, in exile, twisted himself with long years of darkness and with whatever he had called into the world. He and the Darkening became one and the same, a hideous mix of magic and man, undead and undying. It took a great power to banish him, but it will take even more to bring about his ultimate defeat.”
Jodreth fixed his stare on Thea. “It used to be said the Dragon Stones changed people—those that had felt their use, and those that lived near them became attuned to the old magic. It was even said the dragon affinity—the special connection that some have—is a touch of the old magic that links dragons, humans and stones. Whoever has been touched by the stones, they are now the only ones who can rise to the challenge and use their gifts to defeat the Darkening. Fate has decreed that the tale of the three brothers must be told once again.” He looked from me to Thea. “But this time, it will be told through the lives of Sebastian Smith, Lady Agathea and Kalax.”
*
I yawned and blinked as if I’d just woken from a deep sleep. Images were still swirling in my mind—the clash of swords, the flights of dragons overhead, the sulking features of the pale, middle brother with the black hair and heart. Sitting up, I rubbed my eyes. I was still in the cabin. The candle had died and the room was so dark I could barely see.
“Seb?” I heard Thea’s voice and her sword glinted as she stood and held it in front of her. She pointed her sword at the empty chair.
Jodreth was gone.
Kalax? I reached out with my mind and felt her warm presence. She lay curled around the cabin. Kalax, where did Jodreth go?
No one left.
I got more than a hint of defiance. She was annoyed that I’d question her ability to stand watch. I told Thea that Kalax hadn’t seen him go. She frowned and shook her head. “Come on, dawn can’t be far off. And I don’t like this one bit. I hope that really was a story we needed to hear, and not a crazy old guy spinning some tale that won’t help us one bit.”
*
Chapter 14:
The Winter Ball
At the rear gate to the academy, I told Seb, “We have to see the king.”
He let out a breath, and I couldn’t blame him.
To be honest, I didn’t really know what to make of the story Jodreth had told us. How could it be real? Did that mean Lord Vincent was the Darkening—and he was the middle prince? Had he been alive for thousands of years? Was that even possible? It would certainly explain why he knew how to use the Memory Stone better than anyone—and how it was he had survived our last encounter. But…but how did you defeat someone who was magical? One way or another, the king needed to know his son had had the Memory Stone used on him, and that the stone was no longer under guard and safe.
I couldn’t help but think that if Commander Hegarty had used so much planning and secrecy to arrange for us to meet his brother, that meant he suspected spies of the Darkening were at the academy. Or was it all lies? But Jodreth had sounded sincere—and I could feel that Kalax had accepted him. That had to count for something.
My thoughts spun like clouds under a hard wind as we flew back through the dawn to land on the slopes behind the enclosure. The sky was already gray and some of the owls who’d been hunting were joined by the first blackbirds to be awake this morning. Dragon Mountain was waking up with bright, wintry light, the heather and gorse flowers turning the rocky hillside colorful as the day dawned.
But I was worried, and not just about Lord Vincent, or that ancient prince, or whoever he was and Jodreth.
The Dragon Stones change you.
Why should I—who’d had the fortune and misfortune to be healed—be changed forever by that stupid Healing Stone? Already, it seemed I had a much better connection with Kalax—nowhere near as good as Seb, but I shouldn’t have the dragon affinity at all. I’d never had it before. Was that what the stone had done to me? Would it do more? Maybe it would even turn me to the Darkening the way Lord Vincent had been turned. It could be a connection that left me bitter and angry, too. Maybe that was why they used to gather those touched by the stone together—because they were a danger.
I glanced at Seb as he rubbed between Kalax’s horns. She butted her nose into me, as if to tell me not to worry. But the story we’d heard had only made the whole situation seem a lot worse than I had already thought it was.
Heading into the academy and carrying our saddles and harnesses, I told Seb, “We not only have to find the other Dragon Stones, we have to defeat an ancient evil that wasn’t defeated before. Is that even possible?”
He nodded and let out a breath. “At least we know where the Healing Stone is.”
I shook my head. “It’s the Memory Stone we have to worry about. I’m supposed to go to the Winter Ball. It’s in two nights. I can at least warn the king.”
Seb shook his head. “I should go with you. If all this is true, the palace isn’t a safe place for anyone.”
“Neither is the academy,” I said.
Stepping into the equipment shed, I threw my saddle on a rack and then stepped out again. The sky behind us had turned yellow with the warming day and the clouds were streaked pink. “You’re a Dragon Rider, Seb, but you’re not a noble. I’m sorry, but I don’t see any way of getting you into the ball.” His face hardened. I felt like I’d just hit him with a staff. I punched his arm lightly, trying to show him we were still friends no matter what. “Besides, if the commander gets back, you need to be here and see if he’s okay. And find some way to let him know we met with his brother without letting anyone else know.”
He nodded, but he still had that hard look in his eyes and his mouth pulled down tight. He lifted one shoulder. “I guess you’re right. Too much to do here.”
“Quite right, you have too much to do, Smith.” We both turned to see Instructor Mordecai step from the shadows on the far side of the equipment shed. How much had he overheard? I straightened and so did Seb. Mordecai looked from me to Seb. “So you two thought you would sneak off, is that it?” he snapped. He jabbed one bony finger at the air in front of us. He wore a mixture of riding leathers, a jerkin, and a dirty woolen cloak. His boots were still spattered with mud and his face look pale. I was surprised to see that it looked like he’d been travelling since it didn’t seem as if he ever went anywhere.
“We were speaking of the Winter Ball.” I waved a hand. “My mother sent me dresses and I can’t decide what to wear. I was asking Se
b if he thought if the commander would mind if I wore my Dragon Rider uniform.”
He shook his head and squinted at me and then at Seb. “A likely story.” He jabbed a finger at Seb. “Dresses is it, Smith?”
Seb nodded his face blank. “I like blue.”
Mordecai gave a snort. “And where were you last night?”
Seb swallowed hard, but he straightened and answered right away. “Checking the—uh—Northern Slope. An alarm went off yesterday, but there was just an old drunk wandering the woods.”
Mordecai glanced at me and back to Seb. “As I say—lucky. No sense in punishing just one of you if I can’t do both, and Flamma here has a ball to attend. And not in a Dragon Rider’s uniform.”
Anger flashed—hot and itching. “We weren’t breaking any rules,” I said coldly.
Mordecai took a step back and sighed. “Let me be the judge of that. But enough for now. Go see about your morning meal.”
I turned, but Seb didn’t move and he said, “Sir, can I ask, do you know where the commander and the squadrons are? Are they on their way back?”
Mordecai rubbed a hand over his eyes, and I would swear he almost looked worried. Was he that good an actor? Or was he, too, under the influence of the Memory Stone. I realized we wouldn’t be able to trust anyone. Putting down his hand, he frowned at Seb. “Can’t you see I’m tired, boy? And that’s none of your business! Now, I’m certain you have duties—or do I need to give you additional work?”
He turned, one hand on his staff, and headed back toward his rooms. I let out a breath. We’d gotten off lightly—but I wouldn’t have minded being told I didn’t have to go to the ball. It wasn’t going to be fun, trying to speak to the king and trying to deal with my mother at the same time. However, if Mordecai did have the Memory Stone and he was working for the Darkening, why hadn’t he tried to use it on us to find out where we’d been?
*
“Ow!” I flinched and glared at Varla. She’d poked for the second time with one of her pins.
She looked up at me. “You get what you pay for, and I’m not the best seamstress.”
We were standing in our room, and Varla was fitting one of the dresses my mother had sent me. It was a deep blue that changed to a darker color where the hem met the floor. I kept telling myself I hadn’t picked it because Seb had said he liked blue, but because it made my eyes seem even bluer. It wasn’t—thankfully—flouncy. For a second dress, Varla picked out a shorter blue gown with glimmering sparkles that fell to just above my knees. The dress seemed too big on me now—I was a fit Dragon Rider, not the girl who’d come here as a cadet—which was why Varla was trying to pin it so it fit.
I yawned and pulled at the dress. I’d managed a short nap after Seb and I ate in the keep, but it wasn’t enough to make up for staying awake last night. Rubbing my eyes, I stared at my reflection.
Was I different? Changed?
It looked like it right now. I’d pulled my hair up and it seemed more gold than red these days. My face looked older—narrower, I thought. And in this dress…well, I didn’t know who I was in this dress. I wanted my leathers on again and my boots and…and not to have to go to this ball. But I had to think of my duty to the king. I had no intention of batting my eyelashes at anyone, but I did need to be at this ball. It was the best way of seeing the king without letting anyone know why I must talk with him.
Smoothing the front of the dress, I said, “You’re doing great, Varla. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”
The dress was designed for grand entrances. We’d already lost a handful of pearlescent sequins from the other dress, and I knew I’d have to sweep them up later or get an earful from Matron for that.
“Who’s going to be there?” Varla asked. “And breathe in.” She pulled the lacing at the back a fraction tighter as I sucked in my stomach. At least the dress now felt more like a tight-fitted battle harness. I started to wonder if I could wear my sword strapped to my thigh under the dress—or a knife at least. I asked Varla about that.
She sat up and raising a questioning eyebrow. “Excuse me? You want a weapon to fight off anyone who wants a dance?”
I shrugged—the dress didn’t really let me do that since the sleeves and straps seemed designed to hold me at attention. “I expect the king will be there with his mistress of the moment.”
“Thea!” Varla stood and put her hands on her hips. “That’s no way to speak of His Majesty.”
“But it’s true. Since his queen died, he’s been flirting with one lady and then another—all of them widows. I think Lady Milice is the favorite at the moment or maybe Lady Regina. I forget who it was my mother mentioned in her last letter. I think she’s jealous because she still has a husband to hold her back and they don’t.”
Varla tried to not snigger too much.
Heading over to my riding clothes, I pulled my knife and sheath from the belt. My stockings were tied up with garters above my knee and that would have to do to hold a knife. Or I could slip it up my sleeve—they were tight enough to hold anything.
I slipped the knife into place in my left sleeve. Turning to look at myself in the mirror, I decided the dress was good enough. And the knife was well hidden. “There won’t be any Dragon Riders there, but Lord Westerforth will no doubt attend with his sons, Tomas and Terence.”
Wrinkling her nose, Varla shook her head. “Mother had the Westerforths over once. He was a horrible goat of a man, and his sons are going the same way. You’ll notice no dragon would have them. Do you think Lord Franbury will attend?”
Giving up on shrugging, I waved a hand. “Who keeps track of them all?”
“My mother,” Varla said. She sounded glum. “She knows all the guild families, the nobles, the lesser nobles, even the clock master. But she thinks balls like this are a waste of money.”
“She’s not wrong.”
“Well, you’re still a lady,” Varla said. “Go and have a night of fun.”
I turned and parted my lips. I wanted to tell Varla some of the story, but I kept thinking how the Memory Stone had already been used on Merik. If I told Varla anything, I might be putting her in danger and I couldn’t do that.
A knock on the door interrupted us, and Varla stepped back, rolling her eyes and muttering, “Matron.”
Matron swept in, thin and dressed like always in a severe black gown. She glanced at me. “In the name of all, Flamma!” Matron shook her head. “You look a candied sweet. What an insult to the flag of the academy, running off to dance and sip wine, no doubt!”
“Matron, it is at the king’s request that I attend.” I smoothed the front of the dress. I felt more like a noble Flamma than a rider right now.
“Yes, well,” Matron muttered. “I have never seen the like in all my days. I came to tell you there is a fancy carriage outside the gates with a footman dressed up like a fool asking for you.”
“I’m on my way now.” I grabbed a velvet cloak and swept past her. “Please don’t wait up.”
“Well, of all the cheek.” I heard her say. Next to me, and holding my second dress, Varla giggled. We clattered down the stairs, her boots making a reassuring thudding noise next to the dancing slippers I had to wear.
What I wouldn’t give to be wearing flying boots right now.
It was almost dark as we crossed the practice yard to the front gate. Jensen lounged by the gate, his arms crossed and grinning. Somehow, he had managed to duck out of attending the ball, probably by convincing his parents that he was needed here more than he was at the palace. Either that or they had other sons and so they didn’t mind what he did.
That made me think of the three prince brothers, and I shivered.
Jensen straightened and bowed. “You look a delight, Agathea.”
I shoved an elbow into his stomach. “Shut it, Jensen. I could still beat you in any bout with staffs, even wearing this ridiculous dress.”
He laughed. “At least I would see you coming. And hear you, the way that thing rustles. Give my
regards to Lord Westerforth and his sons, will you.” He winked. He knew—as did everyone at court—that no one really liked Lord Westerforth or his sniveling sons.
Varla pushed my second dress into my arms and asked, “No Seb to see you off?”
I turned, half-expecting to see him racing over, late as usual. But I didn’t see any sign of him. I wondered if I’d hurt his feelings by being so blunt that he couldn’t attend the ball. It’s not like I had a choice. I wanted to kick the ground, but that would hurt in these slippers, so I just slapped Varla’s arm. “I’ll tell you all about it when I get back,” I promised.
She gave me a wave and headed for the keep with Jensen. I turned to stare at the carriage my mother had sent to take me to the palace. It was pulled by two white horses. Ribbons fluttered in their manes and tails. The carriage itself was small, shaped more like an egg, with doors on the side and glass windows and gilt.
I groaned and my face heated. The thing looked designed to show off wealth, and the Flamma banner fluttered from the top. Everyone was going to go back to thinking I was nothing but another noble, spoilt Flamma.
A man wearing a white wig with delicate ringlets, a deep red jacket with golden buttons and a pair of tight, black leggings—the sort that mother always preferred on men, thinking it showed style—stepped down from the carriage.
Matron was right—he looked a fancy fool.
“Francis,” I said, recognizing our footman. He looked little older around the eyes with a few more wrinkles, but he had served our household all my life. I had never seen him express more emotion than a twitch of a corner of a mouth or a slightly raised eyebrow. He opened the door for me and offered a hand to help me up. I didn’t need the help and jumped inside.
As I was settling my other dress on the seat opposite me, Francis gave a nod and with a fraction of a smile said, “Glad to have you back in the fold, my lady.” He shut the door with a click.
Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2) Page 13
