She didn’t go far, just a short distance downstream, giving herself the illusion of privacy. The river widened into a bend, and far in the distance, she could see the grey outlines of the mountains that were her destination. Her eyes traced their shapes. Somewhere over there was The Hidden City.
Lying between them was a river and a wide expanse of forest, on which a haze of smog resided over. It blurred the proud forms of the tall pines and the old oaks. Nessa wondered what that was all about. Forest fire, maybe? She would have to ask Hunter when he woke up later.
With a sigh, Nessa bent over, pulled off her boots, and waded into the river, her leggings soaking up the frigid water. She stopped when it came to just above her knees and took the orb out of her bag. She held it in her hands, feeling its warmth, its growing weight, seeing the shadow move inside.
Nessa steadied her emotions, or at least, she tried to. You have to do this, she reasoned with herself. You have to. It brings nothing but trouble. It ties you to them, to Margan. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to drop it, unable to open her hands and let it fall. She was drawn to it, bound to it somehow. It was hers to protect and guard.
Nessa shook herself, resolved. I can’t take it back home with me, it has no place in that world. She raised it over her head, preparing to throw it out into the river.
And then...
Crunch.
The sound of breaking glass sounded above her.
Nessa looked up.
The orb had cracked, dozens of fine lines spreading all over its surface, covering it in a spider web of delicate fractures. Nessa flinched in shock and stared, slowly lowering her arms, watching as the cracks grew and grew to the point where the orb looked like it would shatter in her hands.
It flared blindingly bright, and Nessa backed out of the river, slipping and falling on the bank in her haste. The sound of crunching stopped and there was a moment of loaded silence, as if the world had come to a sudden stop.
Then the orb exploded.
Nessa was thrown back, hitting the ground hard, her head smashing against a rock. Instantly everything went fuzzy, soft, then threatened to turn black. Something small and heavy landed on her stomach, and she tried to push it off, only to find that she couldn’t command her arms to move.
She felt strange, detached.
Ahh shit, she thought faintly, this isn’t good...
Nessa could hear someone screaming.
The world faded away.
∞∞∞
Everything came back to her in a rush. One moment, oblivion. The next, bright sunlight and someone calling her name over and over. She groaned, wishing for a few more minutes of peace, but whoever they were, they were bloody persistent. Nessa opened her eyes, wincing at the brightness, and shifted, about to turn to the source.
Something dug its claws into her stomach.
Nessa froze.
Then she remembered. The orb. It had broken.
What had been released?
She went to lift her head, only to discover that she didn’t quite have the strength to do so.
“Oh, thank the Creator!” someone exclaimed. “You’re awake.”
It took her a moment, but she was eventually able to put a name to the voice. “Hunter?”
“It’s okay, everything is fine. I’m right here.”
With an inordinate amount of effort, Nessa was able to turn her head to the side, and saw Hunter sitting on the grass ten or so feet away. His face was pale and his eyes held an alarming amount of concern and fear in them. That didn’t bode well.
“What’s wrong?” Nessa croaked.
Hunter’s eyes darted to the weight on her stomach, the weight that was incredibly warm and did, in fact, have claws.
“What is it?” Nessa demanded, panic beginning to rear its ugly head. “What’s on me?” Please be a cat, she prayed silently. Please be a nice, friendly, sleeping, domesticated animal of the feline persuasion.
“I… um… well,” his eyes widened as the weight on her stomach moved. “It’s… uh… hard to explain.”
“What’s so bloody hard to explain?” Irritation gave Nessa the strength to raise her head. Her vision blurred and the world spun, but luckily, she didn’t faint. Though, when she spied the creature curled up on her stomach, she wished she had.
Small and scaled, it was most definitely not a cat. A long neck and tail were nestled close to its body, partially concealed beneath a pair of leathery wings. Petite pearlescent white spikes ran down the length of the creature’s spine, from the base of its head to the tip of its tail. A cloud parted ways with the sun, and a ray of light caught the creature at just the right angle, making its scales blaze the deepest amethyst, and turning its wings nearly black as they appeared to absorb the light.
The creature twitched in its sleep, digging in its claws. Nessa gasped at their sharpness and Hunter shifted, as if he was about to spring up and come to her aid. To her bitter disappointment, though, he didn’t, and just settled back on his hunches with a pained expression.
“What the hell, Hunter? Get this thing off me!”
“I’ve tried to,” he held up his hands, “but it seems to have issues with me going anywhere near it.”
Nessa stared at Hunter’s hands, which were covered in bloody scratches and bite marks, trying not to cry. “It’s going to kill me, isn’t it?”
“No,” Hunter said soothingly. “It’s only being territorial. Just the standard thing when it comes to dragons.” He winced, instantly regretting his choice of words.
“Dragon! Dragon?” Nessa peered at the creature. Yep, it was certainly a dragon if she ever did see one. “Why the hell do I have a dragon sleeping on me?”
“One presumes that the orb was, in fact, a dragon egg.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
Hunter tilted his head. “I have no idea who this Sherlock fellow is, but I’m pretty sure you’re insulting me.”
“Hunter,” Nessa hissed. “How do I get this dragon off me without it slicing my guts to ribbons?”
“Well,” he said, pondering and analysing the situation, “I would go with a scoop and slide method.”
“What?”
“Scoop up the dragon, then slide out from under it.”
“What an excellent idea,” Nessa said dryly.
“Best I’ve come up with so far.”
“Evidently.” Nonetheless, Nessa went with the plan, intending to slip her hands under the little dragon and carefully move it off her.
The dragon was still asleep, curled up like a cat on her. Slowly, painfully, she inched her fingers under it without it stirring, and discovered that its scales were as hard as the amethyst they were coloured after. Thin, delicate rib bones flexed under her hands with each breath the dragon took, and its heart pattered away, its beat fast and strong.
Nessa’s hands tightened around its torso, ready to shimmy out from under it, when it shifted. She paused, hardly daring to breathe as the dragon pulled back its wing and its head snaked up.
Eyes the colour of violets stared at her, pupils slowly retracting into thin slits. It yawned, revealing rows of sharp teeth and two pointed fangs. Nessa gulped, fearing that it would go for her throat, when, to her astonishment, it picked itself up, stretched, and clambered off her on unsteady legs.
It sat on the ground, tail curled around its legs, looking at her like it sought approval.
Nessa slowly came to the understanding that the dragon hatchling wasn’t about to attack her, and relaxed a little. If anything, it looked incredibly small and vulnerable, harmless.
“Explain,” Nessa demanded.
Hunter looked perplexed. “Explain what?”
“That! Explain the bloody baby dragon that’s looking at me like I’m its mummy.”
Hunter frowned. “You don’t know about the dragons?”
“Of course I don’t know about the dragons. We don’t have dragons where I’m from.”
“How intriguing,” Hunter murmured. “A place
without dragons equals a place without Dragon Riders.”
“What are you mumbling about?”
“I’ll explain it all to you,” Hunter sighed, “but I’d rather do so on the move. Story telling is always more fun at a brisk walk.”
“You look a little bit worried,” Nessa remarked. He kept looking around, as if he expected trouble to jump out at them at any second. “A little twitchy.”
“Oh, I’m fine. It’s not like a dragon hatched for me or anything. But I’d be a lot more happy if we got going. The sooner, the better. We don’t want anyone stumbling across us with a dragon hatchling on our hands. Else bandits and Margan will be the least of our problems.”
“Who could be worse than Margan?”
Hunter was grim. “The king.” He stood, and with some degree of caution, helped Nessa to her feet, keeping a watchful eye on the dragon hatchling. “And trust me, he is a thousand times worse than Margan.”
“Then I suppose we should get going,” Nessa murmured, staring at the little dragon, wondering if it would be at all possible to get it to sit in her bag so that she could carry it easily.
“Just pick the little bugger up,” Hunter called over his shoulder as he made his way back to their camp. “I promise it won’t hurt you.”
Nessa eyed the dragon’s needle-like claws dubiously.
They went upriver, where the grass banks levelled out and the river transformed into an area of boggy marsh. Hunter led the way, testing the soft earth with a long stick before taking each step. Nessa shadowed him, the mud and water squelching underfoot.
Her bag jumped and bumped against her hip as the dragon moved around inside, and Nessa placed a steadying hand on it. Through the leather, she felt the dragon settle down. She had discovered that with a simple thought, a simple gesture, the creature would, to a certain extent, do as it was bid. While incredibly strange, Nessa didn’t dwell on the matter, deciding that an ‘ignorance is bliss’ approach was best when it came to mystical creatures.
“So,” Nessa started, finding herself steadily heading into deeper water, “when do I get my explanation?” Hunter looked over his shoulder at her and she stifled a sigh. “Yes, yes,” she said. “I know. Later.”
They had been walking for over two hours now, and other than a few words when they had hastily packed up camp, Hunter had remained quiet, only ever saying the word ‘later’ when Nessa made her enquiries.
Which was fine, Nessa kept telling herself. A lot had happened that both of them needed to process. Having time to think things through was good for them. Possibly. She just hoped that Hunter wouldn’t come to the conclusion that she was too much trouble, hatching dragons and whatnot, and abandon her, seeking a quieter, dragon free life.
The dragon in question moved again, and curious as to what it was doing, Nessa opened the bag and peered inside. She found the dragon curled up into a ball, or at least it had tried to. While the dragon was no larger than a small cat, the bag wasn’t exactly spacious. Without moving a muscle, apparently finding a comfortable position, the dragon slowly opened one eye, looked up at her for a second, then tucked its head under a wing, seemingly falling asleep.
Nessa closed the bag gently, letting the dragon have its nap in relative peace, and fished around in her pocket, pulling out a couple of sharp objects. In her open hand, twinkling in the sunlight, were a few pieces of the dragon’s eggshell. Surprisingly thick and a deep purple, they matched the dragon’s scales. She had only been able to save a couple of larger pieces before Hunter had collected up the rest, throwing what remained of the egg in the river, claiming that they couldn’t leave any evidence behind.
But still, Nessa had managed to save a bit of it, a souvenir of sorts. She might not be able to take a dragon home with her, but she’ll be able to take the pieces of shell with her, to remind her that this wasn’t all just a dream, that she hadn’t gone insane.
Nessa turned them over in her hand, marvelling at the play of light that danced over their smooth surfaces. They were only the size of coins, sharp edged and rough, but she thought that, with a little bit of work, they would make a couple of nice pendants, or maybe a bracelet.
From the corner of her eye, she spied Hunter looking at her, at the pieces of eggshell in her hand, and she quickly stowed them back in her pocket. He knew that she had them. He had seen her pick them up, but he hadn’t commented. He had been deep in thought, and Nessa knew that he was thinking about her and the dragon. What he might be thinking about, she didn’t know, but she saw the way that he looked at her bag, at what it was holding, and she saw the worry in his eyes. Worry, and an emotion that she couldn’t fathom.
Whatever it was, though, made Nessa anxious and uneasy. She rested a hand on the bag, feeling the warmth that soaked through the leather, and felt protective towards the little creature that was inside it. Not from Hunter. Nessa knew that he would never harm an animal unprovoked, but from something else. She had a feeling, a sense that something dark and sinister loomed before her, a threat. One that was linked to the little dragon.
I’ll find a way back home, Nessa decided, coming to a decision, and before I leave, I’ll find somewhere to hide the dragon away, somewhere it will be safe from those who would do it harm. From people like Margan and the king Hunter had mentioned. The thought of hiding the dragon safely away gave Nessa a measure of comfort. She trailed after Hunter, feeling moderately more content then she had a few minutes ago.
“Long ago,” Hunter began suddenly, “when cities and castles were a new invention, an explorer travelled to the far east and discovered the Forgotten Lands, a wondrous place filled with astonishing sights and spectacular creatures of the likes we had never seen.
“For a time, the explorer traversed all across the land, seeing and experiencing all that it had to offer. Then, when he had enough, he left the Forgotten Lands and returned home. But not alone. With him he brought a clutch of dragon eggs, the first in this land. When these eggs hatched, dragons were introduced to the Twelve Kingdoms.”
Nessa listened silently, eager to hear the rest. Hunter paused, but only for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “For a thousand years,” he continued, “these dragons grew and bred, and were the pets of the rich, the nobility. Times were peaceful, filled with growth and discovery. Cities were built and flourished, and the people prospered. But alas, it did not last.
“A boat came from the west, landing on our shores, carrying warriors, merchants and settlers. While the boat carried our human ancestors, our ancestors carried a disease, one that all but wiped out the dragons completely.”
Nessa found herself placing a hand on the bag, as if she could protect it from the long passed threat. She could feel the shape of the dragon’s back, flexing with each sleeping breath. A thought popped into her head, and as Hunter paused to jab his stick into the marshy water in front of him, Nessa voiced it. “If they were the first humans to come here, then what was the explorer?”
“He belonged to an ancient race called the Old Bloods. Not much is remembered of them now, nothing but fairy tales and fables, for they no longer inhabit this land anymore.”
Nessa was surprised. “You mean they left, moved somewhere else?”
“No, I mean they died out,” Hunter said. “Were killed off. Anyway, that story is for another time. Now take my hand, the current is starting to get stronger.”
The river ran through the middle of the marshland. Slowly, Hunter and Nessa, hand in hand, waded through it, the water pushing against their hips, trying to wash them away.
“What happened to the dragons then?” Nessa asked, wanting something to take her mind off the freezing water that rose up to her navel. With her free arm, she pulled up her messenger bag, hugging it against her chest so that it, and the dragon, wouldn’t get wet.
“Oh, well, for a number of years the disease ravaged the dragon population until there were only twelve left. For reasons unbeknown to us, the Old Bloods intervened. They wove a spell, one that was both a blessin
g and a curse. It bound the remaining dragons to the twelve ruling families, the Twelve Houses, who were the descendants of those who had first arrived. One dragon per House. That’s how it was. They were meant to be our protectors, our guardians, our noble and mighty Dragon Riders.
“The bond between man and dragon saved the latter from the disease, immunising them against it. It also meant that each new generation of dragon would only hatch for someone of the Twelve Houses.”
Nessa frowned. “How can that be when this one hatched for me?”
“Dragons only hatch for someone with the blood from one of the Twelve Houses,” Hunter said grimly. “As they have done for thousands of years.”
“I know what you’re insinuating,” Nessa said, putting the pieces together. “You think I’m a member of one of the Twelve Houses.”
“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m saying that you must be in order for a dragon to hatch for you.”
“Well, you have it all wrong,” Nessa said with confidence. “I know for a fact that I can’t possibly be related to anyone here, let alone to someone from the ruling houses. My mum is a secretary and my father is a lawyer. They run a firm together.” At least they used to, she amended silently, before everything went to shit and she moved in with another man. “I love them both, but there’s nothing ‘royal’ about them.”
“A bastard line, perhaps?”
“Impossible. I’m not from this place, and neither are my parents.”
“And what about their parents?”
That brought Nessa up short and Hunter, damn him, noticed. “I know my father’s ancestry,” she argued. “I managed to trace his family tree back some two hundred years.” Thank you Internet and school history project.
Hunter wouldn’t drop the subject. “And your mother?”
“Mum’s parents died when I was born. I never knew them, and mum never talked about them either. Said it hurt too much.”
“Hmm,” Hunter mumbled. Nessa could tell that he was thinking about that, drawing on threads that weren’t there, creating a tapestry of conclusions that couldn’t possibly be true.
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 17
