Touch of Ice (Dawn of Dragons Book 1)

by Mary Auclair

  A few turns of the stone hallways later, the light changed. It became whiter, more diffuse, like the lifting of the rain. Then voices began to reach her ears, and she knew the courtyard must be close. Footsteps resonated in a quick, hurried rhythm, and she wasn’t surprised to realize she was running.

  “Lady Endora!” Walfrey’s voice came, alarmed and loud, but she ignored it.

  Finally, free air hit her face with all the bite of a January day. Her skin prickled in outraged goosebumps and she closed her arms around her chest, holding the folds of her woolen shawl around her closely. She wasn’t dressed for being outside but she wasn’t going back to change.

  She stared, mesmerized by the view. She was on a second floor balcony overlooking a vast courtyard bustling with activity. Rows of carts carrying various merchandise were lined on one side, while on another a few stalls sold pies, hot spiced wine, and cups of broth. Everywhere below her, people walked and talked, laughing and arguing. She’d never thought it would feel so good to see a crowd of strangers.

  Walfrey arrived at her side, breathing hard. A quick glance told her his red face wasn’t just caused by the running. He was angry, too. She tried to care, if only for his sake, but couldn’t. She was too happy to be free from the constant weight of the mountain.

  Then her gaze caught on a familiar frail figure. The old woman turned a wrinkled face to the balcony and her amber eyes widened. The moment was suspended in time long enough for Endora’s mind to fill with confusion, then Junco turned and slipped between faceless bodies, disappearing in the crowd.

  “Junco!” Endora screamed.

  She swerved past Walfrey, not giving the guard a second glance. Her feet beat a frenzied tattoo on the wood planks of the balcony as she ran for the nearest stairs, shooting panicked, searching looks at the crowd below. Thoughts were shoving inside her mind in a blurry chaos. Where was Junco? Why did she run? Was something wrong with Tallie?

  Oh, Gods, no. Did she betray me?

  Endora reached the snow-covered stone floor. Walfrey’s heavy footsteps at her back made her move again. This time, he would force her to go back. No amount of intimidation would prevent the guard from keeping her away from this crowded place, not with Aldric’s strict protection orders. She couldn’t afford it. She had to find Junco. She had to know if the money got to Tallie. Taking a split-second decision, Endora bolted to the right.

  Then the courtyard exploded in a blast of screams and stone.

  Chapter 10

  Her ears were ringing and her left leg hurt from a long, shallow cut, but a quick examination confirmed that she was otherwise intact. She would be bruised and battered, but had nothing that wouldn’t heal. At least, she thought so. Endora blinked through the dust, trying to get a sense of where she was. After a few more seconds, she was able to see—and think—well enough to know. She was lying on the stone floor in a corner of the courtyard, under the remnants of the staircase. All around her, people were screaming and running in a blur of feet, tears and shouts. She tried to focus on something, anything, but she was unable to.

  Where’s Junco?

  The question seemed to shake her brain into motion, and after a few more seconds, her eyes began to focus more clearly. The first thing she saw was the wounded. Everywhere, bodies were scattered, some moaning, some yelling, some so still it hurt her eyes to look. Endora scrambled to her knees, scanning the crowd for the old woman.

  Please let her be alive.

  Then her eyes fell on a familiar bulky form, just a few paces away from her. Walfrey lay flat on his back, unmoving in the middle of the commotion.

  “Walfrey!” Endora screamed his name, then scrambled to him on all fours, dragging herself more than walking.

  As she neared him, panic invaded her body and she found she couldn’t breathe. His left shoulder was a bloody mess, and lower down, his arm twisted at a grotesque angle. His face was slack and blood gushed from a large gash on his head. Her hands trembled as she put two fingers to his jugular, searching for his heartbeat. As she touched him, he blinked, confusion and pain plain on his face.

  “Thank the Gods you’re alive.” Endora huffed with relief. “Can you move? We have to get away from this crowd before we get trampled to death.”

  The guard glanced around, then nodded. With a painful effort, Endora helped him up onto unsteady feet. Walfrey carefully cradled his broken arm, but not a sound of complaint left his mouth. She shouldered his heavy weight and looked around for a safe place where they could sit. She knew the guard couldn’t walk far and was near to collapsing. Finally, she helped him to the shadow of a nearby stone wall, where an upturned cart provided seating. Turning around, she scanned the space for any sign of the old servant.

  Then a tall figure emerged from the cloud of dust.

  “Endora!” Aldric’s voice boomed, loud and charged with anxiety. He spotted her, and with a few long strides, he was standing directly in front of her. “Are you hurt?” He didn’t wait for her answer and started to inspect her body, his hands running over her limbs to make sure for himself that she was intact. When he found blood on her leg, his face twisted with gut-deep worry.

  “I’m fine. It’s just a scratch,” Endora reassured him. “But Walfrey isn’t. He got hit pretty bad by the explosion.”

  Aldric’s eyes left Endora and fastened on the bodyguard. His stare turned dangerous, and she was suddenly afraid. Shooting fast, panicked glances between Walfrey and Aldric, she saw the same realization—and fear—written over the guard’s face. And acceptance, too.

  “I failed you, my Lord.” Walfrey got down on his knees, his face contorted with pain. “I allowed Lady Endora to be endangered. I accept my punishment readily.”

  Aldric stalked to Walfrey, his entire body radiating with suppressed violence. A long, wickedly shining blade caught the light at his side. Endora’s face grew numb and she flung herself forward between the guard and her mate.

  “No!” she exclaimed spreading her arms wide. “Don’t you dare!”

  “Step aside, Endora,” Aldric growled, his face twisted with fury. “You won’t save him.”

  “Let him punish me, Lady Endora,” Walfrey said from behind her. “You could have died today. I deserve the punishment.”

  “Nonsense,” Endora countered, anger finally flaring, quieting her fear. “I disobeyed Walfrey. You want to punish somebody? Then punish me!”

  Her entire being shook with fear as Aldric’s fury was turned on her but she didn’t allow her gaze to falter. She was done playing the good little mate, obeying and living in a cotton-ball world. She wasn’t allowing Walfrey to pay for her mistakes, and that was it.

  “Be careful,” Aldric spoke low and softly, and somehow, that made him even more terrorizing. “I might just take you up on your word.”

  “I’d like to see you try.” She lifted her chin, matching him bit for bit.

  Aldric’s lips were a cruel, thin line and his eyes reduced to slits. She should be afraid of him, should give in, but she didn’t. Not this time.

  Aldric opened his mouth to speak.

  “My Lord!” a voice called from somewhere in the cloud of dust.

  Aldric turned his face slightly, just enough to see a young guard running toward them.

  “We apprehended two suspects as they were fleeing the courtyard,” the young guard said as soon as he was close enough to speak without screaming.

  “Hold them.” Aldric turned back to Endora, ignoring the guard. “I will escort Lady Endora back to her rooms, then come back.”

  “My Lord.” The young man stepped closer. His face was devoid of color and his eyes were glazed with fear. “Captain Dalgo insisted.”

  Aldric twisted his head and the young man visibly shook, but stood his ground. After long, excruciating seconds, Aldric nodded. “Fine. Tell Captain Dalgo to secure the area. No one enters. No one leaves.” His stare returned to Endora. “Follow me.”

  The tone of his voice was final. He gripped her upper arm, turned, then
started to walk at a brisk pace. Endora’s blood was boiling and she gritted her teeth at the open dominance of his attitude, but refrained from giving in to her impulse to fight his grip. Instead, she matched his pace in silence, determined not to ask him to slow down.

  As they walked, she took measure of the damage. The entire east side of the courtyard was in ruins, with piles of rubble where the arches had collapsed. The guards were helping injured people sit alongside the west wall as medical staff rushed to treat the most severely injured. It was like a scene from the tales of the Great War, and blood splattered the snow where rocks had crushed bones and flesh.

  A bloodbath.

  Endora scanned the faces in the crowd for Junco, but she couldn’t find her, and too soon they left the open area. Finally, they stopped in an adjacent open square where Rhyl was waiting, his powerful front paws pinning two screaming figures to the ground. As Aldric approached, the two individuals quieted down.

  Aldric dragged Endora closer, then stopped two steps from the dragon’s paws. The two individuals lifted their faces to them, and Endora felt all the warmth drain from her body. Those two pale, almost livid faces, bald and thin as death, both had three concentric circles drawn in white paint on their foreheads. Like the little girl from the square in Helbon.

  A single word came to her mind, and she knew it was the right one.

  Knat-Kanassis.

  Aldric let go of her arm and stalked closer to them. Looking more carefully, she realized they were a man and a woman, although their extreme paleness and thinness, coupled with their shaved heads, had made that hard to identify at first.

  “Where are the rest of your brethren?” Aldric’s voice was unrecognizable, a step above an animal’s growl.

  “Traitor,” the man answered, his face set in a feverish mask. “You are soiling your bloodline with that animal you mated. The wrath of the just will be upon you.” Then his glowing orange gaze settled on Endora. “Sordied sangui. Mors abomina.”

  At those words, Aldric’s fury-filled scream invaded the air. A flash of his wickedly curved blade passed in front of the man’s face. His glowing orange eyes widened, then a livid hand reached for his neck, trying without success to staunch the flow of blood that was rapidly depleting his body of life. A second later, his eyes turned in their sockets and his head fell to the floor, face first in the growing pool of blood.

  Aldric turned to the woman, who was staring silently back at him, her surreal pale golden eyes shining with ravenous hatred. Aldric’s blade arm twitched as he stared at her. In that instant, he was cold to the core of his bones, to the nucleus of his cells. No emotions could be read on his stony features, only an infinite resolve that would stand nothing in its path.

  Horror filled every cell of Endora’s brain.

  Never before had she seen a person die violently. What was more, never did she ever dream that a person she shared her bed with could slit a man’s throat as easily as a chicken’s. Now, she was petrified of the idea that her new mate would kill a defenseless, trapped woman.

  She took an unconscious step forward, then froze. She was too afraid to say anything, too afraid to reach for his arm.

  Afraid of him.

  “Let her go,” Aldric ordered Rhyl.

  Rhyl growled and hissed at the back of the woman’s head, turning her exalted expression into one of pure, unadulterated terror. Slowly, with tension rippling down his limbs to the very tips of his talons, Rhyl lifted his paw off the woman. He still held his muzzle dangerously close to her, his long, sharp fangs showing in open display of hostility. The woman scrambled to her knees, gathering the folds of her long robe around her, shooting quick, fearful glances between the dragon and the Draekon.

  She was obviously afraid, but she was also strangely calm.

  Something’s wrong.

  “Where are your brethren, woman?” Aldric asked, his voice still a low growl, but having lost some of its feral edge. “Tell me, and your life will be spared.”

  “What makes you think my life has any value?” The woman smiled, her toothless grin even more chilling than her bony face. “If you see the light, Darragon heir, our master will forgive you. You are the last of your line, and it would be a shame to lose it.”

  “Talk.” Aldric slid his blade inside his overcoat. “Who is your master?”

  The woman shook her head slowly, almost sadly. Her golden stare found Endora and her features turned hard. Whatever she felt for Aldric didn’t extend to Endora, and her eyes turned to pools of pure hatred.

  Fast as a snake, the woman reached inside her robe. A small blade caught the light as she lifted her hand. A flash of blood ruptured the white of the dragon’s scale. Rhyl roared as his muzzle was cut, flicking his head backward and away from the woman.

  As soon as the blade cut through the fragile skin of his muzzle, Rhyl shook his head furiously, blood dripping from the shallow wound in a steady, abundant flow. It was way too much for such a small cut. Something was wrong with the dragon, and Endora understood in a flash what it was. Poison. It was poison.

  Endora froze, then turned her eyes to the Knat-Kanassis acolyte. The woman’s stare caught Endora’s and her gaze didn’t flinch as she brought the blade up, then nicked her own neck. It wasn’t a deep cut, just enough to draw blood. In the next heartbeat, the woman’s eyes rolled in their sockets and she threw her head backward, then flopped to the ground. Endora watched, horrified, as the woman thrashed and convulsed on the stone floor, her limbs contorting and jerking like under some tremendous pain. Foam bubbled at the corner of her mouth then, as fast as it began, her movement stopped.

  She was dead.

  “Rhyl!” Aldric leaped to his dragon, then turned as Endora stepped to follow. “Stay back, Endora!”

  As she approached despite Aldric’s warning, a hand closed firmly on her arm and she turned to look at Dalgo. Silently, he shook his head. She shouldn’t approach.

  Rhyl kept shaking his head, roaring and moaning in a clear display of the pain he was in. Dragon blood dripped across the square, bright red against the pure white of the snow.

  “Venenum Ardere,” Aldric called over his shoulder, after he got close enough to reach the dragon. “Get a medic, right away.”

  Dalgo’s hand tightened on her flesh and Endora turned to see him flinch at the words. This was serious.

  “Is Rhyl going to be okay?” she asked.

  “We can only hope. It depends how much of the poison was fresh,” Dalgo answered, not taking his eyes away from Rhyl, and not letting go of her arm. “This plant is from our homeworld of Dagmar, and it’s forbidden to grow it. It’s the only poison that can kill a full grown dragon.”

  The words settled inside her mind as she watched Rhyl. The dragon seemed crazed, his eyes bulging and his nostrils fuming. He was moving in fast, uncontrolled jerks, and all the men around scrambled to get as far away from him as possible. Only Aldric stayed close to him, and Endora was mesmerized with fear as she watched him stalk close to the out of control beast. The dragon could easily kill him with a slash of his talons, a snap of his jaw, or with dragon fire.

  “He’s going to get killed.” Endora tried to move, but Dalgo’s hold tightened. “Call him back.”

  “He’s the only person who can get to Rhyl in this state,” Dalgo answered. “He has to help him. A Draekon and his dragon have a very deep bond. One cannot live without the other.”

  “So you mean that if Rhyl dies…” She trailed off and the world started to spin. Aldric couldn’t die. He was the strongest, fiercest man she’d ever known. “Do you have an antidote for this Venenum Ardere?”

  She watched Rhyl as the dragon spit a column of flames high against the wall, leaving a trail of charred rocks behind, glistening with heat. He was losing it, and fast. Yet Aldric remained calm, uttering reassuring words in Delradon at him, getting ever closer.

  A Delradon man entered the yard, dressed in white with blood stains on his uniform. At the sight of Rhyl and Aldric, his face bl
anched but he kept walking. He stopped beside Dalgo and Endora.

  “This is the only sedative we have that’s strong enough to prevent Rhyl from hurting himself—or everyone else in the castle. After that, everything hangs on the dragon’s strength.” The medic shot a fearful look at Rhyl, who was becoming more agitated, less himself by the second. “There’s no way he’s going to let me approach.”

  Endora’s eyes went from Aldric to the medic, then back again. “I’ll go.” She tried to swallow but her throat was parched. “Rhyl won’t hurt me.”

  She expected Dalgo to oppose but he stayed silent, his pale Delradon eyes unreadable. Then he nodded a single time, his lips pursed and the skin of his jaw tight.

  She turned fearfully to the medic, then extended her hand. The man nodded, then gave her a long syringe filled with a clear liquid. Rhyl’s life hung in that single dose.

  Without pausing for fear that she would change her mind, Endora walked to Rhyl with slow, careful steps. Aldric turned to look at her. His beautiful silver eyes flashed, but all he did was gaze as she stepped closer. As she reached him, he wrapped a protective arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him.

  Sensing another person had come close, Rhyl lowered his fuming mouth to stare at Endora. A deep shiver of fear traveled down her spine, but she kept perfectly still.

  “Rhyl.” She kept her voice low and soft to appease the beast. “I want to help you. Please let me.”

  Rhyl’s eyes were cloudy with the effects of the poison, and he stared unblinkingly for a long time. Aldric’s arms tightened and she could almost feel the tension leaching out of him. Tension and fear—fear for her. Then recognition slowly rose in the eyes of the dragon, and the columns of smoke tapered down from his nostrils. Endora smiled then raised her hand, putting it on Rhyl’s muzzle. The dragon closed his eyes, then tilted his head to allow her closer.

  “I’m going to give you an injection now,” she explained, lifting the syringe to show it to the dragon.

  Behind her, Aldric grew very still. Rhyl sniffed the syringe, then lowered his head to the ground.