The Dragon Soul (Vagrant Souls Book 2)

by Samuel E. Green

  The green dragon screeched as it took to the air, the sound filling her mind. She willed it to stop. The screeching ceased, and its feathered wings brought a rush of wind that caused her to stumble backward.

  Her back bumped into something hard and cold. The second sight vanished. The suppression stone burned, scalding her hand. She dropped it and turned to see what had startled her.

  Another green dragon, this one much larger, bent its head so that its eyes were level with Fryda's. Its pupils slashed black lines down golden orbs.

  "Do not move," a voice spoke inside Fryda's mind.

  The dragon tilted its head, indicating something behind her. A few paces away, below the smaller green dragon, a red serpent slithered toward Fryda. She traced it until it ended at the red dragon. Realizing it was the dragon's tail, Fryda gasped. Even though the tail seemed to have a life of its own, the dragon it belonged to appeared to be sleeping.

  A sound like rushing water came from behind her, along with a jet of flame that met the red dragon's tail. The red dragon snorted, a sound like singing steam, and its tail recoiled.

  "Come, daughter of the North. Away from the Mad One." The larger green dragon shuffled around and went deeper into the tunnel. The smaller green dragon followed after it. Fryda could only stare as the dragons disappeared into the darkness. She retrieved the suppression stone, now cool again, and slipped it into her pocket. With one last glance at the red dragon, bound in its great iron chains with its bladed tail flicking lazily about, she followed the green dragons.

  Unlike the other tunnels, these corridors were lined with flaming torches. Torchlight made the dragons' scales flicker in a dazzling array of green. Even so, some parts of both dragons did not flicker. Where scales should have been was dark gray hide—the scarred remnants of enslavement.

  Fryda could feel the suppression stone’s weight in her pocket. She had used it on the smaller green dragon. Its terrified screech when she'd bended its will to her own resounded in her mind.

  The dragon stopped in a doorway large enough for both of them to fit through. They waited on either side, and the larger dragon urged Fryda onward with its beak. "Go on, little human." The voice came again inside her head. It almost made her question whether she imagined it.

  Fryda crossed into the room, the dragons' shadows darkening her path for a moment. Mounds upon mounds of gold. Chests overflowed with shiny trinkets. Sunlight beamed through narrow slits in the ceiling. Piles of coins caught the light. Vines climbed the walls, adorned with diamonds the size of fists rather than leaves.

  "I am Tursn." The smaller dragon came alongside her, its clawed feet slapping the sandstone. "My sister here is Naeth."

  "What is this place?"

  "This room is a dragon's cache. The Mad One's, originally. The rest of the cave was once a home to many cave dragons. At least those who didn't take Elmyra the Witch Queen's oath. A few years ago, it was a prison. And now, it is a tomb."

  Fryda hadn't seen any dragon bones around, but she suspected these dragons couldn't leave. Although they weren't bound with iron chains, there must be something keeping them from escaping, else she supposed they would have left long ago.

  "Humans imprisoned us wyverns along with them. But they never found this cache. The Mad One's magic prevented it. Some of us escaped a few summers ago, when our captors were foolish enough to leave the iron door open. We were sealed in here, trapped with the Mad One. The humans never came back. We have not eaten for quite some time. Only our magic sustains us. Nor do we care for gold, as cave dragons do."

  "So two . . . three," she corrected herself, remembering the red dragon, "dragons live here now?"

  "One dragon. The Mad One you saw earlier is a dragon. Naeth and I are wyverns. Dragons have four limbs and two or more wings. We have two feet and our wings are attached from our elbows." The smaller wyvern raised his wings to show her. They extended for at least a dozen strides, rows upon rows of glittering feathers hanging beneath them. "I suppose we are referred to as dragons because wyverns are not nearly as menacing in the minds of humans. A dragon, should it be sold, would fetch a much higher price than a wyvern."

  "I didn't have anything to do with the dragon trade," Fryda said, noticing the disdain directed toward her.

  The other wyvern, Naeth, stared with glowing eyes. Fryda didn't like that one. There was something about Naeth that made her feel like she was just waiting to eat a human.

  "Only days ago there was three of us wyverns here," Tursn continued. "But someone came and took Rurit. He tried to take the Mad One, but her magic is too chaotic to be taken by suppression stones.”

  Was the Mad One’s magic the reason why Fryda’s wards had faded?

  Tursn’s lips pealed back and he snarled. “It was a mage. He held a staff of power in one hand and a suppression stone in the other, a stone much like the one that now rests within your pocket."

  Fryda shook her head, realizing that that was an accusation. "I never intended to use it." It was a lie, and from the steam that sprouted from Naeth's nostrils, at least one of them knew it. "I thought you were going to harm me." She reached for the stone but then realized her mistake.

  Naeth unfolded her wings and slapped Fryda aside. She rolled, the stone falling from her pocket and skittering across the stone tiles. It stopped in a bed of golden coins, accusing Fryda with its white brilliance.

  Tursn stepped in front of Naeth. He bowed his head, antlers pointing to the ground. A clicking noise came from his mouth. Fryda supposed the strange sounds were how they communicated with each other. Naeth pulled back her black lips, making a show of large, bladed teeth. She looked up and spouted a jet of flame that caused the chandelier to tinkle.

  Tursn turned to Fryda. "Naeth is willing to hear you. Tell us, why did you come to the Dragon Hold?"

  "It wasn't intentional. The skinwalker the mad dragon killed was chasing me."

  "Skinwalker?" Tursn cocked his head. He clicked at Naeth, and she clicked in return. "We have never heard of such things. We wyverns might not live as long as dragons, but it is strange to hear of something we have never learned of."

  "The wraiths possess them."

  "The wraiths," Tursn said. "The name given to the spirit-melded creatures, once spirits of beasts and once spirits of men. Dark things. Abominable things."

  Naeth opened her mouth and screeched. Tursn's neck recoiled, his head seeming to hide within his chest.

  "You say you never meant to use the suppression stone," a deep voice reverberated inside Fryda's skull. She realized that Naeth was speaking. She stalked toward Fryda until they were face to face. Hot air blew from her nostrils. "Why, then, did you bring such a foul thing with you into the hold?"

  "I . . . I thought . . ." Fryda trembled. She doubted she was going to get out of this alive. She couldn't die a liar. It would go against everything she believed in. She could only tell the truth and hope that the wyverns would spare her. It was a slight hope that didn't prevent her voice from wavering. "I wanted to use the stone to control a dragon. The man I love is being held against his will. I don't have the power to free him, but with a dragon . . ."

  Naeth snapped her head toward Tursn. Golden eyes stared at each other for a moment. Naeth clicked before turning to Fryda. "Your intentions are clear. You wish to use the suppression stone to take Tursn or me. You have already committed an atrocity by taking Tursn's mind with your own. We have no reason to spare you."

  "Naeth speaks truthfully," Tursn said. "Though I may forgive you, you have committed a great crime. Where is it that you hail from?"

  "Indham," Fryda said, unsure of the wyvern’s intention.

  Tursn shuffled his clawed feet. He chittered for a time with Naeth. The wyvern-speak continued for agonizing moments as Fryda wondered what her fate would be.

  "You come from a land where the taking of minds is seen as a profitable venture. It is those from Indham who captured us while we were flying to the Mikill Mountains to nest. We will not kill you, because t
hose of Indham must pay for their crimes."

  "So you're going to let me go?"

  "No." Tursn's tone was final. The wyvern turned and stalked toward a mound of coins. He jumped and glided down upon it and curled up.

  Naeth didn't move. She glared at Fryda, golden eyes piercing with violent intent.

  "What do you mean to do with me?" she asked. "If you wish for me to pay for using the suppression stone, so be it. But how can I pay for crimes I never committed? I played no part in the dragon trade. I was only a child when it happened." Fryda's voice was frantic. With every moment, she seemed to be getting further and further away from her quest to find Alfric.

  Tursn lifted his head, as a dog might do when bothered.

  Fryda couldn't believe that she would be guilty of something she had no hand in. Yet this wyvern seemed to think it a completely normal thing. They could easily kill her now, and they would if she tried to escape. She needed to find Alfric. Now that she knew where he was, she couldn't just leave. Not when she was so close. But what could she say?

  "There was a man." She shook her head before correcting herself. "There is a man who was saved by dragons. Wolves attacked him. Afterward, he woke with a jade dragon pendant."

  Tursn's head flashed to Naeth and back to Fryda. "Do you speak of the dragon soul?"

  "I don't know what that is. Only that Alfric wore it after that day."

  "The Mad One spoke of a child she'd given the dragon soul to," Naeth said, her tone skeptical. "Her ramblings were those of madness. The dragon soul is locked within the reliquary of Kranak-Ur."

  Tursn craned her neck toward Fryda. "You have seen this pendant? Describe it to us."

  "If you wish to survive," Naeth added, "do so accurately."

  Fryda had no trouble describing the pendant. She'd often played with it, even though Alfric would never allow her to remove it. Still, her explanation didn't seem to convince the wyverns. Frustrated, she searched the chamber for something she might use as an example. She found three matching broaches and arrayed them like the three silver links of the pedant.

  "The metalwork on the pendant is much more elaborate than these broaches," she said. A chest of jewels provided her with a jade stone similar to the one on the pendant. She placed it below the three broaches. "The stone on the pendant is tear-shaped and much lighter than this one. Alfric wears it with a leather rope." She couldn't tell from the wyverns' faces whether they believed her. They clicked at each other.

  "It cannot be the dragon soul," Naeth said. "And yet she describes it accurately. But that is easy to do when she speaks so vaguely. We will need to confirm whether it is indeed the dragon soul that this man wears." The wyvern turned her golden eyes upon Fryda. "Take us to him. The stone will allow you to open the doors."

  Fryda realized now how the door had seemed to open of its own accord.

  The last she remembered of Alfric, when he'd attacked her, he hadn't been wearing the pendant. She couldn't let the wyverns discover that. When she reunited with Alfric, she would find a way to escape the wyverns. They would be useful for now, though. Their dragonfire could destroy skinwalkers, and wraiths along with them.

  Another question rang in her mind: What if Alfric is a monster when we find him? Will the wyverns spare him when they learn he no longer has the dragon pendant?

  The wyvern Tursn glided down to the ravine outside the dragon enclosure. Fryda dismounted awkwardly, not knowing where to place her feet without stirrups.

  "Cast the stone into the ravine," Tursn said.

  Naeth landed behind them. She arched onto her hind legs so that her shadow blanketed Fryda. A chill ran down her spine. She knew that Naeth, should she refuse to throw the suppression stone down the falls, would probably push Fryda down it. They'd seemed eager to find Alfric's dragon pendant, but that might not stop them from doing away with her right then. Heat pressed against Fryda's back. She didn't need to turn to know that the wyvern was preparing fire.

  Fryda looked down the ravine. If she threw the stone into it, there would be no retrieving it. Without the suppression stone, she wouldn't be able to command one of the wyverns should they turn on her. Even if she did use the stone, what were the chances she'd be able to survive a fight between two wyverns? Minimal, she decided.

  Holding the stone in her hand, she drew it behind her shoulder and took a running start. At the last moment, she skidded on the scree and the stone slipped from her hands.

  Fryda tumbled, stopping a mere inch from the cliff. She watched the stone as it clattered on the rocks all the way to the bottom of the ravine. That could have been her, dashed against the rocks. Although she was at ground level, the ravine dipped into the earth, giving the impression that she was at the top of a mountain. She gulped and wiped her slick hands on her tights. She almost preferred being torn apart by a skinwalker than falling from such a height.

  She got to her feet, careful not to slip on the pebbles, and inched away from the edge. She turned to Tursn and found herself trembling. She hadn't realized just how much confidence possessing the suppression stone had given her.

  Now you've got yourself into a right mess.

  She mounted Tursn again, and they continued flying over Aernheim. She couldn't help feeling that no matter where she told him to go, he intentionally traveled west. Rather than leave the question unsaid, she asked him.

  "I seek the dragon soul," was his answer. She didn't find it particularly useful. Maybe he could sense it. Or maybe he was leading her into a trap. But why spare her life only to trap her?

  "What exactly is the dragon soul?" The wind beat against Fryda's ears. She was glad that she could talk to the wyverns through their minds, since talking would have otherwise been impossible with the noise.

  "It is an ancient relic that was once kept within Dragir, making it the most powerful city in all the land. It was stolen from the altar within the Cave of the Sunless a thousand years ago and taken to the reliquary of Kranak-Ur. If it is true that your friend possesses it, then he must have traveled to the reliquary. Is he a powerful sorcerer?"

  Fryda laughed at that. Tursn didn't find her outburst amusing, so she quickly composed herself. Alfric certainly wasn't a sorcerer. He had said that it had been hanging around his neck when he'd awoken after the wolves had attacked him. He couldn't have gotten it from the reliquary.

  Still, Fryda wasn't going to argue with Tursn. Any indication that the pendant might not actually be the dragon soul could sour the situation.

  A great mountain towered the sky far to the west, past Grimwald Forest. "Is that Mount Dragir?" she said.

  "Indeed," Tursn said. "That is where the Witch Queen resides, and has done for a thousand years. Dragir was once the seat of the greatest empire. The queen used the powers of the dragon god Madrem, exerting her influence all across the lands. She was the one who started The First Empire, long before Knud—the one you call the First Priest—took over it. She ruled the empire, until her brother tricked her into the oath. The Order of travelers, no longer able to travel, became her slaves, and she a prisoner within her own mountain and the city beneath it."

  "The queen wants the dragon soul . . . Because it might free her?"

  "Yes. We will exchange the dragon soul so that the sins of all forest wyverns might be forgiven."

  "Is it the way of dragonkind to punish someone for a crime they didn't commit?"

  "It is as you say."

  She mused upon this until another thought came to her. "Have there been forest wyverns who have been tried in this manner?"

  "Of course. When our forefathers refused to take the oath and live within Dragir, all forest wyverns were forbidden entry. Neither Naeth nor I, through the sins of our forefathers, may enter there. The High Priest of Indham led your people to commit the crime of enslavement of dragons and wyverns. His is the crime of a single person, but the guilt rests upon all Indham's people."

  "I'm not from Indham. I was born in the North."

  Tursn didn't answer. He seeme
d annoyed by that. It might be the only time she would be thankful to be Fatherless. "If the man does not possess the dragon soul, then we will kill you."

  "I freed you from the enclosure," Fryda pleaded.

  "The lives of two wyverns is not of equal worth to all those enslaved by your people. Only the dragon soul is valuable enough to spare you."

  Desperate to find Alfric, she scoured the countryside as they passed. Whenever she saw people, few though the sightings were, she called to Tursn, and the wyverns drew closer to the ground. The people ran, but Fryda had enough time to confirm that none of them were the beastly skinwalkers or Alfric.

  They slept that night in an abandoned barn. When morning came, the wyverns had a wing full of apples for her that they'd fetched from the orchard outside. Fryda crunched on an apple, savoring the sweetness after the barely cooked rabbit Velmit had forced down her throat. The fruit sat uneasily in her stomach as the wyverns took flight again. Their search drew them ever west, until they were on the border of Aernheim and Eosorheim.

  "Why are we traveling so far west," Fryda said, feeling nervous.

  "We are taking you to Dragir," Tursn said. "Finding this man who supposedly wields the dragon soul is too difficult a task for Naeth and I to accomplish alone."

  "But you can't enter Dragir. You said the queen forbids it."

  "Not if we have you," he said. "She might still refuse us, but it's our only chance. Even if you lied, and we are punished for an empty search, we would rather die than live outside Dragir for another season."

  Fryda peered at the ground below her. The Darkstone River cut across the land, stretching from the Mikill Mountains all the way to the Trynd Marshlands and the coast beyond it. From this height, Fryda could just make out the blue line on the horizon that was the West Ocean. If she jumped, she would surely die.

  The wyverns landed on a hill within Aernheim's border.

  "Wait here," Tursn said. "We must request passage from Hurn before we enter Eosorheim."

  Fryda waited at the hill’s peak while the wyverns flew across the bridge and landed on the outskirts of the forest. A tall figure with elk's antlers jutting from his head walked out to meet them.