Dragon Bonds (Return of the Darkening Series Book 3) (17 page)

I
hadn’t thought
Seb would be up to the challenge, he was looking so tired, but he proved me wrong. It had been snowing for several days, but today the sun had come out—and Seb was still keeping the black dragons under control. I was flying with Seb and Kalax today. The cold air cut into my face and seemed determined to pull my hair out from under the helmet. I tried to ignore it so I could focus on the land below.

We flew north through wild mountains. Below us, every now and then, Thorri would signal with flags for the dragons to fly higher and stay out of the way, for she had come across other tribes, or something else. It wasn’t very reassuring that even she was cautions about these frozen plains.

Glancing around, it seemed to me as if we had reached the very top of the world. Everything below fell away into mist and fog, or snowy white land. Ahead, I could see cairns in the snow—tombs of black rocks and sometimes topped with human skulls and dragons’ skulls.

The Wildmen had told us to avoid such places, claiming those cairns could put the evil eye on any who disturbed them. Beris made fun of such superstitions, but Seb and I frowned at him. We had seen much of magic—enough to respect these graves.

Thorri had said last night at the campfire, “Our people believe these are ghost wardens, set here to protect the center of the world. They are a warning. These were the dragons and riders who once rode with the First Rider.”

With a yell, Beris kicked his blue into action. He, Syl and Gaxtal swooped up suddenly, into the clouds and beyond the line of ghost-wardens and cairns.

The Wildmen moved cautiously across the territory below us, avoiding the graves.

We were coming down the other side of the high pass and into the center of the Dragon’s Spine mountain range. A low valley stretched out, dotted with short mountain plants that had gone brown under patches of snow. In the rocky meadow just below the summit, Gaxtal perched on the ground, Beris grinning and Syl glancing around nervously as if looking for either ghosts or the Darkening.

Well, at least the Wildmen will respect his courage.

The clouds that had been hovering ahead of us cleared, moving fast as the wind pushed them. Ahead, a wide plateau rose up at the far end the valley. It was like nothing I’d ever seen, as if the top of a mountain had been carved away by a great knife. The side I could see gleamed smooth and bright as if it had been polished by wind, snow and rain. That had to be the plateau we were looking for. It had to be.

Just as I thought that, the sky rang with dragon calls. Three wild black dragons rose into the air, pushing up from the plateau and blocking our path.

I looked at Seb, who held the reins tight in one hand. He had stretched out his other hand toward the three oncoming wild dragons. It was going to tax his affinity even more to try and tame three more dragons.

“Hold!”
I called out and held up a hand.

Merik and Varla brought Feradima up next to Kalax. Gaxtal launched into the air, swooping up to our left so we might catch the wild dragons in a pincer attack.

“No one attack!” I shouted. I pulled out the flat to give that command as well. Syl and Merik knew how to read such signals.

We need at least two more dragons, if the old legends are true
.
And here are three—but will they help us?

Seb had to control these three new wild dragons.

The Wildmen riding the two blacks with us flew their dragons to just in front of Kalax. They stretched out long, sinuous necks at the three roaring, northern dragons coming toward us. For a hideous moment, an image of all of the wild dragons turning on us crossed my mind. If Scratch and Hiss reverted back to their wild state, five angry dragons could do a lot of damage.

Enough!
Kalax kept her thoughts tight and focused. She was right. I shouldn’t be looking to lose any battle before it had even begun.

Hiss lived up to her name with a hiss that rattled the air. A pulse of power followed it as Seb straightened and gave a low growl. The two black dragons at the front faltered, dipping lower in the sky. But the third—the skinniest and meanest looking—kept on coming.

Ignoring my orders, Beris and Syl on Gaxtal flew up and to the right, heading into an attack position, putting Gaxtal so the sun’s glare would be behind them.

I swore. The third dragon had seen them and instantly flew higher, matching Beris’ move.

Does Seb have a range for his power? How close does he need to be?

In front of us, two of the wild dragons flew in circles. Their calls sounded confused and they swiped at each other with claws extended. I had never seen any dragon act like that without a bloodbath soon to follow.

“Bring them,”
Seb said, his voice shaking now. “Bring them ‘round.”

Did he mean for me to bring the other dragons—
our
dragons—around in a flanking movement? Or was he saying he couldn’t bring these new wild dragons around? I decided it had to be the former because it would at least put Feradima in a position to better defend the Wildmen below if the wild dragons attacked.

Far below us, I could see Thorri moving her troops to take up positions that were sheltered behind boulders. Spears jutted up and sunlight glinted off arrow points.

The two dragons ahead broke apart and careened toward us. Seb shouted out. Kalax swung to the left and Feradima to the right.
But instead of Scratch and Hiss following Kalax, they charged straight at their two wild brethren, stopping just short of a collision.

The wild dragons croaked and peeled off, swooping around, exchanging chirrups with Scratch and Hiss.

Kalax?
I thought at her.
What’s happening?

A sense of intense listening washed over me from Kalax before she said,
They are talking. Claiming.

“They’re telling the other dragons we’re their food?” I said.

Seb yelled back, “They say we’re their brood! Our black dragons choose us, and they’re telling these interlopers to choose us as well!”

I wondered how Seb could know all that. A shiver chased down my back.

Just how powerful is he?

But Seb just pointed up to where Gaxtal and the third black dragon were swooping around each other, each of them trying to get into a position to strike “That’s the drake of their knot. Come on, Kalax!”

With a lurch, Kalax flew upward, hot on the tail of the third dragon. Kalax gave a roar and the black roared back, dropping away from Gaxtal and heading toward Kalax.

Now see how Kalax flies!

Kalax roared with joy.

Seb allowed her to set her own pace. Her acceleration couldn’t match that of the wild dragons, but the powerful beats of her larger wings gradually ate the airy distance between us while we watched the northern wild black get closer.

“Mine!”
Seb roared. The word echoed in my mind. The pulse of power from him vibrated in my chest and my bones.

The black dragon croaked and fell from the sky. Kalax fell with it, rolling in time as Seb wrestled with the creature’s mind, the veins on his neck bulging and seeming to burst before, with a vaguely contented chirrup, it pulled itself up and started to wheel back around and head for the confrontation behind us.

That hadn’t seemed the same as the time that we had captured Scratch and Hiss, using diversionary tactics to ‘surprise’ them and even bargain with them, in a way. It had seemed more like Seb had claimed the dragon for his own.

Ahead of us, amazingly, Scratch and Hiss were hovering in the air, exchanging chirrups and crows with the two northern dragons that, uncertainly, looked from them back to the drake that now followed us uncertainly.

In a way, the wild dragons are like ours. They thrive on companionship.

Kalax’s thoughts swirled into my mind.

Alone is death

The dragon Seb controlled hissed at the other two and a brief dragon argument began. Soon they were bowing to the pressure of the pack and of the brood, raised their wings, exposing their undersides and necks to show that they meant no harm.

We had done it—we had three new dragons to add to our small army, taking our force up to eleven. I felt Seb sweep his own mind over theirs, almost as one might throw a blanket over an unsightly bench. They were both claimed and added to his stable.

I looked over our shoulder, up to the where the plateau sat. If we were so close to our goal, why then did I feel so worried?

* * *

W
e reached
the plateau at the end of the day and made camp at the base of the cliffs to rest up and give the Wildmen a chance to catch up with the dragons. This close, it really did look like a mountain that had its top sliced off. No wonder the legend said that dragons had to take the First Rider to his tomb.

The sides of the plateau were not as smooth as they had seemed from a distance. The cliffs were actually more like scales of rock with thin shale forming cracks and layers across the surface. Even as we camped below, we could hear the thunder as some of the loose shale broke off and tumbled down the sides of the cliff.

“No one can climb that,” Beris said, standing at the base of the mountain and pulling a flake of rock from it as if it was nothing more than rotten plaster.

Thorri and her Wildmen reached us after we had a fire going and Merik had made stew. The Wildmen ran into camp, hardly even out of breath, but they glanced around as if they wanted to be anywhere but in the shadow of this giant plateau. Everyone seemed quiet that night—no songs or stories, just everyone watching the skies and looking up at the wall of stone that seemed to block the stars.

In the morning, the Wildmen started fires early and sat close to them. Glancing around at the shadows under everyone’s eyes, at the pale faces and the nervous looks that were being sent to the cliff, it seemed to me that at least half the camp or even more had had terrible dreams. I wondered if it came from camping under the shadow of that demon cliff. For myself, I had dreamed of swirling, flashing draconic eyes, flaring with flame and hellfire.

I shivered and not just from the chill in the air.

Coming over to stand next to me close by the fire, Seb gave me a nod. He looked like the rest of us—as though he hadn’t had much sleep. “What is it?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Just—just, you know.” I nodded over to where Beris and Syl were checking over their saddles on Gaxtal.

Beris had volunteered to scout ahead. The air acted strangely here, Kalax had warned, curving around in unexpected currents and echoing our words in ways that made them sound more like the cries of an injured dragon.

Beris gave us a grin, and Syl pulled a face. They mounted up on Gaxtal and headed into the sky, disappearing into the clouds that hid the top of the plateau this morning. Frowning, I tried not to worry that we would never see them again.

Kalax had curled up near the fires—even the dragons needed more warmth this far north. Leaning against her side, and actually missing the porridge of the Academy and the fires of the Academy keep, I told Seb, “You did the right thing.”

He glanced at me and I thought he looked thinner than when he had first come to the Academy from Monger’s Lane.

“Sending Beris and Syl to scout first. That’s the right thing. We don’t know what could be up there.”

He closed and then opened his eyes slowly. A frown pulled his eyebrows tight, as if he was having problems focusing. “Oh.” The word came out flat and tired. “I thought you meant…” The words trailed off but he gave a small wave to the three wild dragons who were currently wrapped around each other, grooming one another.

The Wildman had only just gotten used to having two black dragons around. Now we had three more that were far more wild than Scratch and Hiss. But the Wildmen who’d become riders—Dar and Temmi were their names—seemed ready to show off how they could toss meat to their dragons. Now we needed to find three more riders.

“Well, them, too. Good job!” I said, with a level of enthusiasm I didn’t fully feel.

Seb gave a low chuckle. He nudged my shoulder with his. “Don’t worry, Thea. I can do this. I’ve got more in me yet.”

“We hadn’t even started to think about how we were going to confront Lord Vincent with barely trained dragons as—”

A whoop from up above cut off my words. An ululating howl followed. I grabbed for my sword and so did Seb, both of us looking up and hunching down in a fighting stance.

Kalax just grumbled.

Beris came swinging out of the clouds. He didn’t sit in his saddle but seemed to be hanging by a rope tied around his middle. Gaxtal appeared next with the other end of the rope tied to Beris’ saddle. Beris was laughing, but the rest of us couldn’t quite see why.

“What under the heavens is he doing? And why?” asked Thorri. Her voice held a note of admiration. I glanced at her and shook my head.

Beris gave another shout. “We found it!”

Gaxtal hovered as Beris hit the ground, feet first. He untied the knot and moved aside so Gaxtal and Syl could land.

“You found the tomb of the First Rider?” Thorri asked, eyes wide and her voice hushed.