War of the Dragon Page 2

  "Of course." I wrapped my arms around Carina and hugged her tightly, partially to hide my tears. Despite Carina's words, I knew after everything I'd seen that there was a very good chance I might never see her again. But what really made my throat ache and my eyes burn with unshed tears was both her stubborn refusal to accept the inevitable and her unfailing optimism. She only thought of criminals looting the store, and not Zallabarian soldiers storming the city and destroying everything we owned. Though I wanted to shake her shoulders and scream at her about all the dangers until I was blue in the face, I didn't want to shatter the illusion. There was no point in dashing her hopes, and even if I did warn her, Carina still wouldn't leave. This shop was as much a part of her as Lessie was to me. If the Treasure Trove went down, so would Carina.

  Then you just have to make sure it doesn't, I told myself fiercely.

  I finished my goodbyes to Carina and the other ground dwellers, then took off for Dragon's Table, a letter clutched in my hand. I didn’t know if Rhia was on another mission, or if she was fighting the invaders, but on the off-chance that she'd eventually return home, I wrote a letter updating her on all that had happened and where I was headed now. I knew the chances of her being at her family home were slim to none, but my heart still plummeted when the housekeeper opened the door and informed me she wasn't home.

  "Is that Zara at the door?" a female voice called, and I straightened at the familiar voice of Mrs. Thomas, Rhia's mother. She appeared at the door, peering over the housekeeper's shoulder at me with wide blue eyes and flushed, rounded cheeks.

  "Yes, it's me, Mrs. Thomas." I smiled, getting a better look at her as the housekeeper moved aside. She wore a sensible dark blue day dress that hugged a plump, hourglass figure. Silver hairs threaded through her chestnut hair, the same color as Rhia's own flowing locks, and they shared the same heart-shaped face and generous mouth. "I came to deliver a letter to Rhia in case she makes it back to Dragon's Table before I do."

  "Oh." Her face crumpled a little, and an ache squeezed my chest. I knew she'd been hoping for news of her daughter. "I was hoping perhaps you'd seen her recently. I haven't received a letter from her in weeks."

  As a civilian, Rhia's mother was likely out of the loop. "I did see her, not that long ago," I said gently, and then told her about my run-in with her near the Traggaran Channel, and everything that had happened since then. I didn’t mention my fear that Rhia and Ykos would get dragged into the battle against the Zallabarians, since they were likely in the direct path of the force marching relentlessly toward Zuar City. Part of me selfishly hoped that my friend would take cover somewhere and wait for the army to pass by, but I knew that wasn't Rhia's way. She would fight to the death to defend our country, as she should. I only wished I knew where she was, so I could draft her into helping me instead.

  Rhia's mother seemed heartened at the news that I had seen her daughter alive and well, but she still sniffled, wiping away tears from her red-rimmed eyes. "Well, at least she wasn't at the western front," she said. "When I heard all those horrible rumors swirling about the city, I was worried something terrible might have befallen her."

  Still, there was terror in those blue eyes, even though she tried to hide it with her watery smile. She sent me on my way with a small package of pastries and a warm hug, wishing me luck on my journey. I promised her I would send any news of Rhia her way, though I didn't have much hope I'd receive any since I was going the opposite direction.

  "I wonder what it would be like if I had a mother who worried about me," Lessie said thoughtfully as we flew back to Dragon's Table. Her own mother and father were long dead, having laid her egg several hundred years ago. "Part of me is envious whenever the other dragons talk about visiting with their own parents. It would have been nice to meet them at least once."

  I blinked, surprised at both the train of thought and the forlorn note in Lessie's voice. "I know what you mean," I said, stroking the side of her neck as we glided past a small, puffy cloud. "I can't tell you how many times I've stared up at the ceiling at night, trying to imagine the sound of my mother's voice, or my father's smile." I didn't have anything to remember them by, not even pictures, so I'd had to conjure their faces completely from imagination. I'd told myself that I'd inherited my thick lashes and curling hair from my mother, and my eye color and stubborn nature from my father. But in reality, who could tell? For all I knew my hair came from some cousin or aunt, and I resembled my father more than I did my mother. Family traits expressed themselves in all sorts of funny ways.

  "Part of me thinks that perhaps it’s best I don't have a mother," Lessie said after a long moment. "That way if I die, there will be no one to mourn me."

  I was about to tell her not to be silly, that I would mourn her, when I realized that was stupid of me. Of course I wouldn't mourn Lessie— when she died, I would die, too. What would happen to us then? Would we simply cease to exist, or was there some afterlife that awaited us? Would we soar off into the stars of some heaven together, or did dragons and humans have separate afterlives?

  "There better not be," Lessie growled. "When we die, we go to whatever paradise or hell awaits us together. I don't care which god I have to fight."

  I laughed. "Let's focus on staying alive and fighting our enemies in this life. We can worry about fighting afterlife enemies later."

  "Fair enough," Lessie said, and I could feel her smile in the bond, echoing my own. I hoped this sudden turn in mood was a good sign, because we were going to need all the optimism we could get to survive what was coming.

  3

  Tavarian's errands ended up taking longer than we thought, and by the time we finally took flight, the sun was sinking below the horizon, painting Elantia in streaks of red and gold. As it slowly disappeared, leaving behind a dusky twilight, stars appeared overhead. I found it curious that even though we were so much higher in the sky, the stars were still no closer than they'd been on the ground. To the heavens, it didn't matter whether you were a ground or sky dweller—to us, they were forever unattainable, frosty and distant, yet the guiding light we used to navigate both our lives and the world we lived on.

  Tavarian put a hand on my shoulder. The touch sent an electric thrill racing through me, but it quickly fizzled out when I turned around and looked up into a face that was borderline haggard.

  "You need to sleep," I said.

  The corner of his mouth twitched. "That bad, eh?" He scrubbed a long-fingered hand over his angular face. "I thought I'd keep you company."

  My heart warmed at the offer, but the practical side of me rejected the notion wholeheartedly. "In your state, you'd probably end up snoring on my shoulder, and we both need to be alert for what's coming." I nudged him toward the staircase that led below decks. "Get out of here and catch a few hours in the sack. Your crew is more than capable of handling the ship, and Lessie and I will let you know if we see anything of importance."

  For a minute, I thought Tavarian would resist, but then he nodded and stepped away. My heart sank a little in disappointment as I watched him retreat, and I told myself to stop being an idiot. Why tell someone to leave if you wanted them to stay? I hadn't been lying when I'd told Tavarian he needed to rest, but that wasn't the only reason I'd pushed him back. Despite the passionate kiss we'd shared earlier, I wasn't sure if getting involved with someone during wartime was a good idea. Although I had every intention of getting out of this alive, there was always the possibility one of us could die. I needed to keep my head clear and my heart untangled so neither of us would trip ourselves up if we were forced to make hard decisions.

  Who are you kidding? I asked myself. I was already hopelessly tangled up inside. The sheer relief and happiness I'd felt when Tavarian had walked into the courtroom, strong and alive and oh-so-vital, had made my heart swell to three times its size and my stomach do flip-flops. Despite my better judgment, I'd grown to care for the man.

  "Hey." Lessie nudged me with the tip of her snout. "Can we go for a ride? I want to scout the area and see if there are any dragons nearby."

  "Sure." We'd be able to see much better in the sky than from the deck of the airship, and I needed something to occupy my thoughts that didn't involve the handsome, enigmatic man who was likely stripping down and sliding rough cotton sheets over lean, muscular flesh...

  "You're not doing a very good job putting him out of your mind, are you?" Lessie asked, highly amused.

  "Shut up," I grumbled. I pulled my riding leathers on and notified the crew I was heading out, then hopped onto Lessie’s back. As we took off, the wind rushed over my face and through my long hair, immediately quieting my mind. There was something so peaceful about flying. The feel of the air streaming around us, of Lessie's massive, powerful form shifting and moving as her wings beat on either side of me while clouds darted past us, could be both soothing and intoxicating, depending on my state of mind. It would be so easy to just allow my mind to go blank, to just take in the sights and sounds and sensations as my worries floated away, out of reach.

  Instead, I leaned forward in the saddle and adjusted my goggles. As much as I'd love for this to be a pleasure outing, it wasn't. It was a mission, and we had work to do.

  Lessie and I flew for several hours, twilight giving way to full darkness. The moon was large and bright in the sky, making it easier for us to scout our surroundings. I zoomed in with my goggles as we flew in increasingly wider circles, scanning the skies and the ground for any sign of our fellow dragons and riders. Lessie mentally put out intermittent calls every few minutes, asking for any dragons in the vicinity to respond.

  "Zara," she said urgently. "Someone answered!"

  I gripped the pommel of my saddle hard, my heart pounding in my chest. "Who?"

  A pause. "His name
is Temerion. He lives there, with his rider."

  Lessie pointed her snout to indicate the direction, and I focused my goggles. Several leagues away, a stone castle jutted from a sea of trees with purple diamond-shaped leaves.

  "There?" I echoed. Even in the darkness, the castle was clearly old and in need of repair, with cracked stone walls and windows, and battlements that looked like they hadn't seen either action or a good broom in hundreds of years.

  "He's invited us to land. He and his rider would like to speak to us."

  Casting a glance back at the ship, I gauged the distance. It was about thirty minutes behind, so we had some time. Taking my unspoken cue, Lessie made a beeline for the property, then circled above it several times as we checked for any enemies or dangers before landing in the castle courtyard.

  A large, black and yellow dragon ambled out of the stables, his rider at his side. They were both old, the man dressed in a well-made but slightly faded brown tunic, his head smooth and bald as an egg even as his strong chin sported a thick, snowy white beard. His eyes were sharp as they looked us over, but the same could not be said of the dragon. Shock rippled through me as I stared into a pair of milky eyes that had likely once been bright as sapphires. The dragon's nostrils flared as he sniffed us, but those eyes didn't so much as flicker.

  He's blind.

  "Yes, he is," the man said, reading the look on my face perfectly. "But we still fly together often. Temerion has a wonderful sense of direction, and between his keen senses and my own eyesight we are a functioning pair." He gave me a warm smile. "I'm Bartuck of House Vanar. Who are you?"

  Vanar. Was that one of the twelve main houses, or a secondary one? I couldn't remember. "I'm Zara Kenrook of House Tavarian," I said, holding out a hand. "Do you and Temerion live here by yourselves?"

  He nodded. "Our military days are long over, and after having our chains yanked around for a decade I didn't see much need to run in dragon rider circles and subject myself to more politics and rubbernecking." He gave me a gap-toothed smile that was somehow endearing. "I go to town whenever I need supplies, but other than that, we're happy to keep to ourselves...at least until recently." The smile faded, replaced by a grim look as he glanced toward the skies. "I may be a hermit, but even I take notice when dragons are flying back and forth toward the Zallabarian border and soldiers are marching through my woods. What's going on?"

  "The kingdom is under attack," I said bluntly, deciding there was no point in beating around the bush. Bartuck's mouth flattened, but he didn't seem surprised. "An invasion force of Zallabarian soldiers has been sweeping through the land via Dardil in the northeast, swallowing up our towns and villages as they make for Zuar City. At the rate they're going, they'll have conquered Elantia within the week."

  Temerion gave a snort of alarm at this, and Bartuck's eyes widened. "Within the week?" he sputtered. "Surely they can't be that powerful. How have we not beaten them back yet?"

  A woman appeared at the door before I could answer. "Sir," she said, giving us a gentle smile. "Would you like me to put on tea for your guests?"

  Bartuck blushed. "Yes, of course, how very rude of me." He waved me inside. "Please, come sit down while you tell me what's been happening. I'm sure you are weary from your travels."

  I would have refused, but it seemed rude to make an old man stand in his own courtyard in the dead of night, so I followed him inside. It was only a little before nine o'clock at night, so I supposed it wasn't so strange to see that the servants were still up and about. For some reason, I'd been surprised to see he had servants, but then again, of course he'd need someone to help him around the castle. He might be a self-styled hermit, but he was still a dragon rider, and all dragon riders came from money.

  Except me. But even that wasn't quite true. I might have grown up poor, but that didn't mean my parents did. Which house had they come from? And why did none of my other family members claim me?

  The woman—who I gathered was the housekeeper—settled us in the parlor, and I gave Bartuck an abbreviated version of current events while we sipped tea and nibbled on biscuits. As I relived the horrors and trials of the past few months, the confections turned to ash in my mouth, and I quickly lost my appetite as anger and fear roiled in my gut. I left out my personal experiences, including my time in Traggar and my misadventures with Salcombe, but even what little I did tell him alarmed the old man.

  "The entire dragon fleet...missing?" He sagged against the faded upholstery of the sofa, his face ashen. "Surely that can't be possible. Just the other day I saw a scout flying at full speed over the forest."

  "Well they've either disappeared or deserted en masse," I said, then winced at the bite in my voice. "Sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm just..." Terrified, I wanted to say, but buried it. "Frustrated."

  "No wonder." The man's eyes looked bleak. "My son, Rurian, was fighting at the western front. He could be amongst those who went missing."

  My heart ached for him. "Lessie and I are searching, looking for any clues as to where the dragons might have gone. I was hoping either you or Temerion might have seen something, but..."

  "But Temerion is blind," Bartuck finished, "and we don't leave the house much."

  I sighed and stood. "I'm sorry to have brought such terrible news to your door. I advise you and your dragon to evacuate if you can, and hide any dragon eggs you might have in case the invaders come searching for them."

  "Evacuate?" the old man echoed, shaking his head. "I'm not sure where we could evacuate to. No, I'm afraid this old man and his dragon are safer where we are. We do have two dragon eggs, and they are already well protected, but I will take precautions to make sure that if the enemy comes to us, they will not find them." His gnarled hands clenched into fists, and for a moment I imagined them as they would have been forty years ago, strong and healthy as they clutched a blade or aimed a crossbow from dragonback. Another rider might have called those his glory days, but from the way Bartuck had spoken of his military service, I had a feeling he didn't think of them fondly.

  "Fair enough." I felt each and every one of my twenty-two years in my bones. Dragon's balls, I was too young to start feeling so old! "Lessie and I appreciate your hospitality, but we should get going now."

  "Wait." The old man held up a hand as he got to his feet. "Sit there a moment. I might have something that can help."

  He shuffled out of the room, and I sat down, trying not to fidget with impatience. How long had I been here? Had Tavarian’s ship already passed us? I hoped to hell that it wasn’t so far ahead that we’d lost sight of it.

  The man returned a few moments later with a black velvet box, patchy and faded, much like everything else in the castle. But my treasure sense lit up the moment I laid eyes on it, and I sat up straighter at the loud, clear peal of sound.

  “What is that?” I asked.

  “A protection amulet,” he said, opening the box to reveal a golden chain with a large, white, oval gem. The stone was housed in a gold filigree festoon, and together they looked rather like an ornate mirror, albeit opaque. “It has been worn by the women in my family for generations, and my wife wore it before she died. I tried to get Rurian to take it with him, but he refused to wear something so feminine.” His eyes shone with tears as he lifted the chain with trembling fingers. “I’m hoping it will protect you instead, so you can find my boy.”

  I swallowed against a lump in my throat as I took the chain from him. Ninety percent of the “amulets” brought into my shop by enterprising treasure hunters were absolute rubbish, but my treasure sense told me this was the real deal. The tiny gem was warm in my hand, the kind of warmth I only felt from magical objects. It was a valuable piece, and a family heirloom besides—definitely not the kind of gift I should be accepting, especially from a stranger.

  But the terror I’d seen in the man’s eyes had faded, replaced by something even worse—hope. He was placing that hope on me, on the chance that I would find his son, his only living relative, and bring him back. And though I had no idea if we’d find Rurian dead or alive, I knew I couldn’t extinguish that hope by refusing the only bit of help he could offer.