An exuberant young man bumped into me, almost spilling his wine over me. I stepped back, annoyed at the distraction. I also pulled the knife from my sleeve. But I kept thinking, why would Lord Vincent be here?
If he had the Memory Stone, he had no need to attend a ball. What could he want?
The man in black now only stood a short distance from me. He was about the right height—and he had that narrow build that had been burned into my memory. I eased closer.
The man in black was talking to another man, this one a stocky fellow who dressed in the red and gold of the palace guards. That had to be captain of the watch. My stomach knotted and I stepped even closer.
I heard a voice as smooth as velvet, fine and cultured with the slightest hint of an accent that I couldn’t quite place. Slapping my left hand down on the man’s arm, I spun him around, my knife ready in my other hand.
The cold and clear eyes of a stranger looked down at me with surprise and disdain. It wasn’t him. This man didn’t look anything like Lord Vincent. Yes, he had a narrow face, but his features were…well, blurred. As if roughened by drink or age.
A wave of pain swept up my back. I swayed. My head was pounding and I felt sick.
“Good heavens, Lady Agathea?” The man in uniform offered me his hand, and so did the man in black. Something—an unwillingness to touch him—stopped me. I couldn’t think why I couldn’t bear his touch, but I just couldn’t. I was having trouble thinking—or even breathing. It was like being under water—everything seemed so far away right now. I turned away, and the room seemed to spin around me.
“Perhaps you should sit down,” the stranger said, his voice a soft purr. A buzzing, like a swarm of insects started in my ears.
Stumbling away, I mumbled, “Sorry…sorry.” I made it to a wall and leaning against the heavy tapestry there that covered the stone. Fumbling with my knife, I tucked it back into its sheath in my sleeve. How could I have been so wrong? And yet…was I? Wasn’t I feeling how I always did when one of the stones was near? Why couldn’t I think?
Mother loomed up in front of me. “Agathea Flamma, just what do you think you are doing, rushing off like that, saying first you need the facilities, and then…then speaking with an utter stranger. I wonder if he is one of the southern lords.”
“Mother, I must sit down,” I said. I rubbed at my temples. My head felt like it was in a vice. “I really must.”
She pushed a goblet into my hands. “Drink that, child—and please do not have the poor taste to faint. Now I promised the Van-Stoutgartens we’d join them in the group dance. You’ll only have to pick up your feet for a couple of turns and then you can sit down all you like.”
I groaned. Group dances were always exuberant movements, with long lines of people crisscrossing, exchanging elbow-holds and forming circles. It was almost a game with some to stay dancing as long as they—or the musicians—could stand it. I groped along the wall for a chair and started to sink into it.
But Mother grabbed my elbow and pushed the goblet into my hands. “Agathea, drink, please. And do recall that you cannot dance with King Durance and no one else. Think of the scandal. It will be whispered that you’ve become his new flirt, and that is not something even the House of Flamma can overcome. Come—one more dance and we shall leave.”
I threw back the wine. The strong, sweet liquid helped clear my head—the buzzing in my ears eased. So did the pounding in my head. And I knew Mother was right. The group dance didn’t involve any partner dancing. It was the perfect dance for declaring no particular romantic interest to anyone.
It would also give me another moment to look around the ballroom for a man in black with long, black hair held back with silver, a narrow face, and empty eyes.
Mother shuffled me to the others as if I was ten again. The bandy-legged, balding, but intensely cheery Baron Van-Stoutgarten and his wife welcomed us to the group. I glanced around, but could see no one in black.
The music started and I had to mind the steps.
Three steps to the left, curtsey and sway forward.
This was one of the most well-loved dances in Torvald, almost every child, noble or peasant, learned it from a young age. The baron smiled cheerily, clapping his hands before we locked elbows and spun. That gave me another chance to scan the room, and still no man in black—not even the stranger who had been talking with the watch captain.
I almost missed a step and a young gentleman who had been about to lock elbows with me had to grab my hand instead. I spun him a little too hard, and he staggered, and suddenly I was looking at the Baroness Van-Stoutgarten.
She grinned at me. “It seems we’ve missed a step somewhere. Oh, well, the men will have to dance together too.”
Another bob and two steps misplaced saw me collide with the Count of Rhiasa, who laughed good-naturedly, but I could tell he was annoyed, and once he turned away, I heard him say, “Clearly her feet are more used to military marches now, and not dance steps.”
Well, they were.
The dance ended with a scattering of polite applause, whispers and stifled sniggers. I swung around, hands on my hips, just about daring anyone to offer me pity or scorn. I didn’t care what they thought. I’d been chosen by a dragon—not just a dragon, but a red. I was a Flamma. I had danced tonight with a king.
And I was going to find out if Lord Vincent was here if I had to attack every man in black. Pushing through the crowd, I started my search again. I made it to one of the side refreshment tables when someone hissed at me.
I turned and saw a servant dressed in a white shirt and brown leggings. He looked up and I recognized the brown eyes at once. “Seb?” How could a shirt and leggings make such a difference? He looked…well, broader than he often did in his riding clothes. And…and cleaner and…well, he looked almost handsome with his face scrubbed and his long, lean arms and legs so clearly defined. “What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Thea, something’s not right.”
I rolled my eyes. “Tell me something I don’t know. Now you’d better go before you get caught.” I started to move away, but Seb reached out to grab my elbow.
A shadow fell over us both and I looked up to see Lord Westerforth scowling at us. “Lady Agathea, is this…this wretch bothering you?”
He had his boys in tow, the older one looking on eagerly, the younger one looking even more miserable.
“No, Lord Westerforth, it’s fine, really. We were just…” Pushing out a breath, I gave up on being polite. I was done with lies, and I didn’t even know why. “You know, Lord Westerforth, you shouldn’t be so hard on your sons. If you were nicer to them, they’d not only be better sons, but actually might turn into someone you could like. A dragon might even pick one as a rider.”
“What…what did you just say?”
“It seems obvious to me.” I blinked. But I couldn’t remember why I’d just said that. Looking past him, I saw I wasn’t the only one having problems.
The dancing in the ballroom had dissolved into a confusing tangle of people, some beginning to argue with each other and others just staring at the floor as if they couldn’t remember how to move their feet. The musicians were play at least three different tunes all—not all of them on key, and
“The Winter Ball never used to be this exciting,” I muttered.
And couldn’t remember why I was here.
‘Ware, Thea. Remember.
The world suddenly seemed to shake and rocked on its side. I was falling to the floor, my mind empty, but then a voice rose up and seized my thoughts. Kalax. Remember! Blinking, I put a hand to my head.
Whatever Kalax had done, she had shaken the fog that had been settling around my mind and rising up through my bones.
Smell magic, Kalax growled at me with her mind.
“The Memory Stone,” I gasped. My head was pounding, but not so hard I couldn’t think. Turning to where Seb stood, I reaching out a hand and put it on his arm. It felt even better to touch him—to have a connec
tion that made this world real.
Seb looked pale and shaken, too, and I knew Kalax had been mentally yelling at him, too. Pulling me away from Lord Westerforth and his boys who were now blankly staring at nothing, Seb said, “Kalax warned me. She told me you were hurt.”
I remembered feeling the pain again of a blow meant to kill me. With Kalax helping me now, I could remember again. “Lord Vincent. It was him! I saw him—he was here.”
“Where?” Seb glanced around us, his face going dark and tight.
“Jodreth said the Memory Stone was commandeered by the king. Lord Vincent must have tricked him out of it—or used magic. He has it again. Had someone take it for him and he’s been using it—he’s been her amusing himself. Playing with our minds.”
Seb shook his head. “But why?”
Kalax was huffing and growling. I could hear her and other dragons now, starting to raise an alarm. The dragons had sensed something. We didn’t have to wait long before we, too, knew what it was.
An almighty thump shook the room, breaking glass windows, shattering the crystals in the chandeliers. Flaming candles fell. Women screamed, the music stopped at once as did all talk. A sound like nails across a tutor’s slate raked the roof above us. The ceiling rippled and cracked, the lines spreading out over the plasterwork as dust fell.
“Take cover,” Seb shouted.
He and I ducked under a serving table.
The next thump hit and the ceiling burst apart. A dragon’s tail, black and studded with spikes, crashed into the room. Deadly shards of glass, entire chandeliers, and splintered wooden beams fell on screaming nobles. And I knew we were under attack.
Lord Vincent had come here not to dance or to amuse himself by playing with our minds, but to deliver a death blow to Torvald.
*
Chapter 15:
Flames in the Night
Holding Thea close, I stayed under what little protection the table offered us.
The roar of the black dragon above almost drowned out the screams as the nobles here woke from whatever mists the Memory Stone had woven around them. Pieces of masonry as large as my head struck and shattered on the floor. Terrified shrieks filled the night. I heard Kalax call to us as she rose into the sky and flew to our aid. I could almost feel the wind across her face as she raced toward the palace.
“Thea, we have to get the people out of here!” Holding onto her hand, I ducked out from where we’d been hiding and pulled her with me toward the doors.
“Mother!” Thea yelled. She pulled free of my grip, ripping the sleeve of her dress and jumped over a cowering man.
I shouted her name and followed into the press of people trying to escape.
Above us, the black tail of the wild dragon flashed again. The wicked spines along its curving edge slashed through the room. Dragons had to attack in waves if they wanted to remain airborne, and I knew this one couldn’t sit on the roof—that wouldn’t hold the dragon’s weight. We’d have a few moments before it could sweep down and attack again.
Cupping my hands around my mouth, I yelled, “Everyone! To the walls!” I pushed ladies and lords in now dusty and bloody, bloodied finery toward safety. Some of them managed to hear me—the brain fog created by the Memory Stone had been released. But Lord Vincent’s plan had been almost perfect.
I was certain he’d used the Memory Stone to convince the prince to send the dragon squadrons away so this attack could be made at the exact moment that most of the important people in Torvald would be in one place. He’d used the Memory Stone here to confuse the guards—perhaps to do more. And then he’d let go of his control so that everyone would panic—and die.
“Seb!” Thea shouted. I looked up and saw a pane of glass shatter. Jumping, I launched myself away from it, hit and rolled. The glass shattered in the spot where I’d been standing. The black dragon roared and rose up into the night to ready for another attack. I could sense the wild dragon’s anger. Something, Lord Vincent probably, was making it think the palace was an enemy to kill. The copper smell of blood, of burning wood and candles, and the stink of fear filled the room. I could hear moans now—those trapped by wooden beams. Arms and feet stuck up out of stone rubble. There would be many deaths this night.
I told Kalax: the academy. We have to rouse all the dragons and any riders we have.
Thea stumbled to my side and pulled me to my feet. Her mother stood next to Thea, her face pale, her hair tipped to one side. “Take her,” Thea said, pushing me toward her mother. “I have to help the king.”
I nodded even as Thea pushed past me and headed to where she must have last seen the king.
“Agathea?” Lady Flamma looked up, confusion in her eyes. Her gown had been torn on one side and her hand shook as she put it to her head.
“This way, my lady.” I seized Lady Flamma’s elbow, trying to shelter her as much as I could as we made our way over the rubble and toward the doors.
“But—but who would attack?” She sounded confused, and I wondered if the Memory Stone had left almost everyone like this. The palace guards wouldn’t even be able to mount a defense if that was so.
“The Darkening, my lady,” I told her.
Above us, the black dragon roared as it made another attacking dive. I could hear the howls and shrieks of Wildmen, the mountain tribes that Lord Vincent had previously forced to serve him, and the rougher shouts of bandits—men from the south.
Waving my arm, I yelled “Get to the walls, away from the glass and ceiling!”
Seb! Kalax shouted in my head. Many dragons come!
“Thea?” Looking around, I spotted Thea pushing at a knot of men. They all looked to be elderly lords—all of them dusty from the debris. I caught a glimpse of King Durance, his gold crown glinting, as they pushed him out one of the side doors.
“Out of my way!” Thea yelled. “I’m a Dragon Rider. The dragons can protect the king.”
I had no time to decide, but had to act. Pulling Lady Flamma with me, I crossed the dance floor. The large black dragon overhead was approaching at speed, and I was sure that Kalax wouldn’t make it in time.
“This isn’t the job for a girl,” one of the men told her.
“Oh, stuff this!” Thea growled. Leaning down, she pulled something from her sleeve. I saw the flash of a knife blade and she ripped off the bottom of her skirt, freeing her legs. Moving fast, she darting in, seizing one of the older lords by the wrist and twisting. He squealed in pain and moved out of her way.
“Hands off the duke!” A man shouted the words. Thea let go of the man she had and thumped the man who’d shouted at in the center of the chest, propelling him out of the way. By the time I reached Thea with Lady Flamma, Thea had cleared the door.
Thea waved the lords away. “Go save who you can. Get everyone out—get them to the dragon enclosure or to the woods.” She turned to me. “Come on. The king was taken this way, and we must be certain he was not taken by the wrong hands.” She gave her mother a quick glance. “If it is any consolation, mother, I’m a much better fighter than I am a dancer.”
Lady Flamma didn’t have a response, but managed to keep pace with us as we ran through the palace. Kalax could get King Durance to safety, but first we had to get to the king.
Near a turning that opened into three more passageways, I stopped to catch a breath and braced my hands on my knees. Thea wasn’t even winded. She still held her knife in one hand, and looked behind us to make sure no one was after us.
Straightening her back and her hair, Lady Flamma said, “The Eastern Gate. The old kings kept it as an escape route in times of danger.”
She pointed the way, and we pounded across marble floors and deep carpets, bursting through rich studies and running up grand stairwells. I was glad Lady Flamma knew where to go, for I lost track of all the turns and the doors we threw open. Terrified servants darted out of our way and the palace guards seemed to not know what to do as they ran past. The sounds of the black dragon’s attack had faded behind us, an
d I hoped that meant it was over, but it had been replaced by the whoops of Wildmen warriors and so I worried that only another part of the battle had begun. We needed to see the king safe so we could come back to fight.
“How much more of this?” I asked, my breath ragged and my lungs burning.
“Not much—not much!” Lady Flamma pointed to a long gallery, one side edged with statues, at the end of which was a grand set of double doors. Two men stood in front of the doors, and one of them was King Durance.
“That’s the watch captain with the king,” Thea gasped, as we ran down the corridor toward them.
The captain swung around and pulled his sword from his sheath.
Lady Flamma stopped before him and said, “My daughter and her navigator—they have a dragon overhead.”
The king nodded. He looked older now, and smaller than he had in the ballroom. His hands shook. He had lost his crown and he glanced around us as if he wasn’t certain what was happening around him. “But—but…the ball?”
“Don’t you worry about that, Your Majesty.” The watch captain turned to the doors. Taking out the keys from his belt, he unlocked a smaller door set into the bigger ones. He eased open the door and cold air flowed into the room. The captain glanced back at us. “Wait until I make certain it’s safe.”
He ducked out into the night, and we heard a gargled cry. The captain fell back in through the open doorway, an arrow lodged in his throat. From outside came the hoots and calls of Wildmen.
“Thea, his sword!” I shouted.
She gave a nod, knelt and drew the dead captain’s saber. Spinning around, she held the blade up, her eyes glittering. I knew just how dangerous she could be when she was in a fighting mood like this. The only other blade we had was a thin one that the king wore—it looked more for show to me, but it was better than nothing. “Sire, may I?” I asked. He didn’t answer.
The first Wildman burst through the door, his long hair braided and flapping, his upper body crossed with leather straps, studded with foul-looking barbs. Thea’s blade cut true and the Wildman fell with a strangled cry.
Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2) Page 15
