Dragon Bonds (Return of the Darkening Series Book 3) (2 page)

Ryan, who looked very much like a younger version of Father without the mustache, had built up the fire. He bent now to feed it one of the table legs—there would be no woodsmen delivering wood. Ryan kept the flame low so it would not attract too much attention from any marauders in the city. The drawing room was a defensible space—the windows faced an inner courtyard and just now the long drapes were drawn over them. The room seemed dark and a little dingy—and huge—with a small pile of spindly tables that Ryan was slowly burning. He had come with me from King Justin’s camp, and Seb had traveled part way with us before splitting off to see if he could find his own family.

Straightening, Ryan shot me a worried look from behind our father’s back.
He was letting me know that this wasn’t going to go easy.

Clearing his throat, Father gave me a nod and tucked one thumb into his wide, leather belt. “Agathea, we’ve been discussing matters. King Justin is being hot headed. His father would never have advised a counterattack, not with the city in ruins and uncounted numbers missing, dead or injured. I cannot condone his throwing the lives of our people away in this fashion! I will give his plans no support. No…the people must leave Torvald and go into hiding.”

I glanced at Ryan, who winced and shook his head. Glancing back at my father, I told him, “You defy your king and speak treason?”

My mother stamped her foot. “Agathea,
we may not have many windows left to us, or servants left to the house, but I would like to think the House Flamma can still carry on a civil discourse!”

My face started to burn, and I was back to feeling as if I was ten still. “I’m sorry, Mother, Father.” I nodded to where he was glowering at me. “I’m used to plain speaking in the Academy, sir.” I clasped my hands behind my back and hoped I wouldn’t get myself into more trouble.

Father turned and spread out his hands to the fire. “But that is my point, child. The Academy failed us all. So did King Justin. His folly cannot be allowed to continue.”

I glanced at Ryan for help, but he had turned away as well and was staring at the pile of tables that were about to become kindling. I had to imagine he was tired of arguing with Father. I wasn’t. Near me, Dobbett settled onto one of the pillows from my room. I wished I could do the same, but I needed Father to see sense. “But…Father, King Justin needs us—all of us.” Frustration and anger made my voice higher than it should be. I took a breath and tried for a more reasonable tone. “Where would it be safe from Lord Vincent’s dragons? What if he sends worse after us?” I didn’t really know what could be worse that those wild, black dragons, but I had vague memories of seeing Lord Vincent’s dark figure at the palace. He had commanded the king and others with the Memory Stone. His powers would be even stronger now that he had the three Dragon Stones.

Mother huffed a breath, but Father held up a hand and said, his tone reasonable, “Do you think I have so little care for this city? What I am suggesting is that we leave with the other families. We can hide deep in the woods. Once everyone has had a chance to rest, to gather our strength and mourn our losses,
then
is the time to prepare for battle. But not now. Not now.”

I couldn’t believe I was hearing my father say these words. It was as if a different man had stolen his skin. My father, Lord Flamma, was head of the second most important family in the kingdom. There were even sayings about us—
Easier split an egg from dragon than a Flamma from their mount. Always a Flamma, always a Dragon.
Our family was entwined with the cobblestones and masonry of this city, with the Dragon Academy, and the royal family. We had fought for generations to protect the city and serve Torvald. I couldn’t believe Father wouldn’t take up arms against the worst enemy we had ever encountered.

He shook his head and smoothed his mustache. “I know what you must be thinking for I can see it in your eyes, and it breaks my heart, too—to think that we must abandon the city, the Flamma estates…all the lands we have held for centuries.”

I was speechless; tears stung my eyes.

“But you have to see I am right. Why throw our lives away for King Justin, who seeks one last, desperate moment? He is a boy and barely older than you.” He glanced at Ryan, who stood with his arms folded and a dark frown pulling at his face. As the King’s Navigator, Ryan must hate that Father was forcing him to choose between his family and the king. And then it hit me—did I have to choose, too?

A pounding on the front door echoed through the house. The servants had fled during the battle—or so I’d learned from Mother. I reached for my sword and turned, hearing Ryan step forward as well as he uttered an oath.

But Father waved a hand at us.
“Weapons down. That is our code—six knocks, one for each letter of our name.” He stepped out of the drawing room and came back with his arm over Reynalt’s shoulders. Grinning, Father said, “I sent for Reynalt. Our family is complete once more.”

Mother threw herself into Reynalt’s arms. Commander Reynalt, I should say, for he was the aerial commander of the Dragon Riders. I didn’t know if I should salute or offer him a sisterly embrace.

He was looking harried and a little pale, but he was still easily the tallest. He was also wearing his moustache as long as Father’s, attempting to imitate him, I thought.

“Mother.” He kissed her cheek and patted her shoulders. She let him go at last, and Reynalt scrubbed a hand through his hair.

Mother glanced from him to Ryan to me and pressed one hand to her heart. “All of my children here safe and under one roof.”

“A roof that currently has several new holes from wild dragons,” I muttered.

Ryan and Reynalt shook hands and thumped shoulders. After a moment, Reynalt glanced at me and gave me a nod.

Reynalt was almost ten years my senior, and we had little in common except a love of dragons. I had always viewed him as stuck up, and I think he had always thought I’d been spoiled.

“Good to see you, Thea—you’ve put yourself through a lot.” Reynalt gave me another nod. I could decipher the hidden message that he thought I’d done well for a mere girl, but the kindness in his voice touched me. He had always been there, looking after me and Ryan.

“How is the king?” I asked.

Reynalt frowned. “Well, Justin is… still affected by having been under the control of the Memory Stone, I fear.” Reynalt glanced around for a place to sit. Other than the floor, there wasn’t much of anything. He glanced at Father. “Some mornings he forgets he is to inspect the riders, and other times he forgets the plans he has made and the orders he has given. All he truly remembers is his desire for revenge on Lord Vincent.”

“And the Darkening?” I added. “Tell me now you still disbelieve the old stories of its return?”

“Now, Agathea…” my mother warned. I glanced at her and saw the worry in her eyes. She must be fearful of yet another fight between us. We’d once bickered far too much.

Reynalt huffed. “I think there are more pressing concerns, such as the status of our troops and our city.”

Ryan gave a sharp laugh. “Half the command—or what’s left of it—is here.”

Reynalt pulled at his moustache, but Father spoke up. “And that is why we must begin to do things differently, why we must
think
differently. There are few leaders, but House Flamma still stands. The royal family has been compromised by accursed magic.”

“By the Memory Stone…one of the three Dragon Stones,” I said. No one seemed to hear me.

Father clapped a hand on Reynalt’s shoulder. “We cannot rush into battle with an enemy who has left us weakened—both physically and mentally. That is why I am taking this family out of the city to regroup with some of the other nobles. We will come up with a better course of action. One that is clear sighted.”

“Father…” Ryan started. A sharp look from Father and a pleading one from Mother stopped his words.

Putting his other hand on Ryan’s shoulder, Father shook him. “Ryan, you must come with us. Our family will make the best stewards, the best leaders, for those we can save.”

“Father, we can’t abandon King Justin! The people need stability. They need one ruler, not the Flammas announcing themselves as…as stewards,” I cried.

Frowning, Reynalt stepped away from Father and came over to face me. “Thea, even you cannot call Justin king and have it sound commanding. That is because he is a boy…a boy left devastated by his father’s death and by a crushing defeat.” He glanced at Ryan. “And you, Ryan, as his navigator and second, you will be expected to command the squadrons in battle. But what squadrons do we have left. One? Two? Perhaps a third, but most all of them were cadets only a short time ago. Are you ready for that responsibility? Do you wish to lead children to their deaths?”

Flushing red, Ryan pushed Father’s arm off his shoulder. “I’ll have you know—”

“No, Father is right.” Reynalt slashed the air with a hand. “The people need us. We have to look after each other now and show the world that we are strong, together. That is what the people need—we must lead them to safety.”

“Well said.” Mother dabbed at her eyes with a silk handkerchief.

At that moment, I saw the plan that must have been in the works for a very long time.

Mother had been so happy when the old king had danced with me at the Winter Ball—she had wanted me to marry Prince Justin, which would have put a Flamma on the throne. And Father was so proud of all that Reynalt had achieved—he was second-in-charge of the army.

I didn’t think Father or Mother had wanted to scheme against the old king or against King Justin. But there was one thing they cared about above all else—House Flamma. If they thought this was good for the Flamma family, they would do it.

But what about me?

I didn’t know where I fit into this new plan. I thought of Seb, out in the city somewhere, maybe dodging Wildmen or raiders and even dragons. How could I stay with my family and leave Seb to some uncertain fate?
And how could I abandon my family?

My family means everything to me. I am proud to be a Flamma—but what they are asking…they’re asking me to leave the Dragon Riders, to give up Kalax, my dragon, and Seb, and my friends. Feradima. That’s everything I worked so hard to get.

“I-I can’t go.” The words fell out. My father frowned. Mother gave a gasp. And Reynalt stared at me, terrible disappointment in his eyes.

But Ryan stepped over to my side and slipped his hand into mine. “Neither can I. My place is at the side of my sister, and with my king, for I am the King’s Navigator.”

I gave a nod. Ryan was right. We couldn’t abandon our king—but I saw that was just what my father, Reynalt and Mother planned to do. Shame washed through me. Suddenly, I wanted to run from the house—run and find Seb and Kalax. I wanted to get back into the fight against the Darkening.

M
onger’s Lane was gone
. But any thought of this place being my home— with its broken buildings and heavy smell of dust and smoke in the air—was burned from me. The small street where I’d grown up looked different, and felt different, too.

I recognized a few parts of the rubble-strewn street—a corner well I had fetched water from every day was now being used by a human bucket-line to put out fires. And the tiny marketplace still stood.

The wild dragons of Lord Vincent had come through here, setting some houses on fire and knocking the roofs off others. The shabby houses of Monger’s Lane were home to some of the poorest in all of Torvald, with many made only of wood, not stone. Timbers lay in the streets, some smoldering. I could hear the cries of children, and the moans of those hurt. A few men ran past, bags over their shoulders, either carrying what they owned and fleeing or stealing whatever they could take.

It was a mess.

Even so, I owed it to my family and neighbors to try and help in some way. The city might be ruined, but there was still some hope. People were alive. We had rallied, and King
Justin had recovered from the enchantment of the Memory Stone. I still wasn’t sure what I thought of the new king. He barely talked to me or anyone under his station in life, which was pretty much everyone. But maybe he had never been forced to deal with the poor. I wondered if he even knew places like Monger’s Lane existed.

Had
existed, I reminded myself. The rubble that crunched under my boots—broken cobbles and shattered glass, fallen walls and cindered roof slats—could hardly be called anything but a ruin.

Still live! Hunt… fish!

Kalax’s thoughts flashed suddenly into my mind. It was becoming easier with every passing day to live in a sort of shared space with the dragon, internally at least. Sometimes it felt as if there was not that much difference between Kalax and me. Often I would dream of flying and hunting over distant moonlit lakes, or seeing stars wheeling overhead as I spun through the sky.

It was confusing at times and made my head ache. I wondered if Varla was right to be worried when she’d said the Dragon Affinity had always been regarded as more of a curse than as a blessing. What had Jodreth the wizard said? That the Middle Son—the one who brought forth the Darkening—had had a strong ability with the Dragon Affinity? And that was how all of this had started.

Kalax not Seb. Seb not Kalax. Seb is too small.
Kalax’s mirth flashed across my thoughts—a dragon’s sense of humor. I knew she thought nothing of doing this. She was also much better at joining my thoughts or of closing herself off from me than I was.

Of course. Dragons think clearly. Humans all muddled and fogged!

I stopped where I stood and thought to her,
Can all dragons talk to all other dragons—as we are now?

A snarl of laughter shook me. I looked up but I couldn’t see the large, red dragon, though I knew she was shaking her head in amusement. The scent of pine and the smell of fresh mountain water rose up. Kalax must have hidden herself near a river in a thickly wooded area to avoid detection from the occasional wild dragons.

Only humans need chatter. Dragons just know. Smell it, growl or roar. Dragons rarely talk. You, Thea, and I are special.

I felt oddly pleased by that—although I also knew Kalax was being sarcastic. She’d often thought at me that humans, although useful, were frightfully slow and weak. We had to put on armor and it wasn’t thick enough, we got cold or hot too quickly and cried often over matters that didn’t matter. For Kalax, life was simple.
Almost
. She thought about fish a remarkable amount of time, as well as danger, sleep, warmth...but rarely about the things that worried me.

Such as why I feel so guilty about my family.

I sighed. I could feel Kalax withdrawing her mind to focus on the stream and scenting for fish. Dragons seemed to have no need for guilt.

It’s my fault Monger’s Lane looks like this.
I should have fought harder…should have warned them.

But how? I’d been caught in fighting to save the old king—and in trying to save what we could of the Academy. I’d done all I could, but my throat tightened and my heart beat harder. I still felt I should have done more. What if my family all lay dead under the rubble of our home? What if all I’d had to do to save them had been to fly here sooner, have Kalax scoop them up and fly them out of the city to the woods? But I knew the answer.

Torvald would probably have fallen a lot faster if I hadn’t been at the palace.

The night of the battle felt like it had been years ago, not a few weeks at most. We hadn’t been able to stop Lord Vincent—he’d gotten into the royal palace and used the Memory Stone on the old king. Lord Vincent had unleashed his forces against the palace—wild dragons had attacked the Dragon Academy and the city, and the main squadrons of the Dragon Riders had been lured far to the north. It had been only a few of us who could do anything.

Thea, Merik, Varla, myself and a few other riders had done our best to keep the wild dragons occupied so people could escape the city or find shelter. But even we’d had to admit defeat. The Dragon Affinity I’d used against the wild dragons to force them away was only so strong.

Kalax’s senses suddenly mixed with my own—I could
smell
a cobblestone as it hurtled through the air toward me, covered with a patina of soot and ash. Kalax’s warning followed.
Seb…danger!

I ducked, turning and drawing my sword in one swift movement. The rock hit the spot where I’d been standing. Across the square, I saw a glint of sunlight on metal and then movement in the shadows. I leapt forward, then tucked and rolled across the ground, ignoring the pain of hot cinders on my shoulders. Leaping up, I ran to the other side of the ruined square. The buildings were still standing there, and that’s where my attackers were hiding.

“Wait!” a woman shouted, her voice fierce.

I stumbled to a halt, my breath ragged and my lungs burning. I knew that voice.

At the mouth of the alley to my right, small shapes—none of them larger than I was and all covered in heavy, shapeless clothes—shifted and moved.

I’d worn rags like that once.

The voice I’d heard reminded me of mornings spent running to and from the market, repeating errands over and over to myself as my father ordered me to collect more wood or coal for his smithy, or buy cheap drink for him. I thought of weary evenings after I’d done a day’s work and was shutting up for the day.

Was it? It couldn’t be...Widow Hu?

She stepped from the shadows and I recognized my neighbor from when Monger’s Lane had enough houses to have such things as neighbors. She was still bowed and ancient. I’d once taken her wood or a few pieces of bread if we had any to spare. She had always seemed to me near blind and slow. She looked different now.

“Sebastian Smith! I thought there was something familiar about you. Always that terrible hair sticking up, looking browner than it should. And arms and legs longer than they need to be. You’ve grown, I see—and even filled out into that jerkin they have you in!” She stood as straight as she could, given the hunch at the top of her back, and peered at me through thick goggles obviously taken from one of the abandoned shops. She still wore her usual robes of gray and black, but had added a thick, leather belt from which hung pouches, bags and a long knife. She clutched a stout staff in one hand.

“Widow Hu? And who taught you the quarterstaff?”

Coming up to me, she snapped, “Did you never meet old Alf, my husband?” Her voice was as dry as I remembered.

“Uh, no?” She had always just been the Widow Hu, with no husband or man in her house.

She thumped the bottom of the staff on the ground. “Wall guard, he was, man and boy. Signed up and served through the bandit raids, the wild dragons, and when that uppity duke what’s-his-name wanted to grab Thuland from us. Alf was adamant I learn to use this thing, even though I thought him a fool.” She sniffed.

From the dark, ragged forms behind her, a voice barked out, “Who is he?”

I glanced at them. Street kids stepped from the shadows. Some of them I even recognized from my years in Monger’s Lane. Fat Joachim had grown into a sizable brawler, and Sparrow—the girl who’d never been caught stealing bread from the market—now had a livid scar across her cheek.

“Wot?” she asked, accusing and surly. She had seen me staring at her face and touched her cheek with a grubby hand. “Got it from a bleedin’ Wildman, didn’t I? But I put his eye out.” She grinned fiercely.

From the back of the gang, a small figure stepped forward. “Seb?” The voice held a familiar raspy tone.

“Elena!” My little sister—still barely large enough to hold that short bow she carried—ran to me and threw her arms around me. I hugged her back. She wiggled free and wiped her snotty nose on her sleeve. Frowning at her, I said, “Elena, where’s our step-mum? Where’s Da?”

Elena looked at me with large, dark eyes. She’d ever been a watchful, quiet one. “Da’s gone. Don’t know where. And Mum…”

“She be in the shelter, Seb,” Old Widow Hu said, patting me on the shoulder. She glanced up, her mouth pulling down as if a shadow had passed overhead.

One of the many things to say for a city like Torvald, one that had grown up next to Hammal Mountain and the Dragon Academy, was that we were used to dragons in the sky—but they were usually friendly. Sometimes, a dragon from the enclosure might get dragon sickness, or could be more than upset at losing its riders. But such things were rare. Dragons by nature were loyal creatures—but they also didn’t like other dragons challenging the order. So the first line of defense was always other dragons. But this was a new world—one run by Lord Vincent. And his wild dragons were still in the skies. I didn’t trust any shadow.

I didn’t see anything—and Kalax wasn’t sounding the alarm, so I turned back to Widow Hu. Relief eased my shoulders. “It’s good to hear about my mother. But Da—?”

“We just don’t know. Look over there.” She nodded to the area where the smithy and the widow’s house had once stood. Nothing more than smoke and blackened timbers remained. The devastation stretched for streets and streets. Rows of houses were still shouldering and collapsing in on each other as their floors and roofs gave way.

“We were heading back to the shelter when our scouts said they saw movement—you.” She patted my shoulder. “Just one of the wild dragons set off the fire right at the start. It spread as far as you can see.”

My chest tightened. I hoped my father wasn’t under the rubble. Despite all, I didn’t wish him ill.

Feeling oddly numb, I glanced back at Widow Hu. “There is hope,” I said quietly. “We can get you out of the city.”

Hu looked at me sharply. “We’re not staying to fight them off?”

“The king—King Justin—has ordered us to try and save who we can so we can prepare for another battle.” I wet my lips. I wasn’t sure of such a decision. I wasn’t sure we even had enough forces for another battle against the Darkening. Even without the magical powers Lord Vincent had, we’d be outnumbered.

“Good!” Hu said swiftly with a savage look I’d never expected to see on her face. “We’ll show them Torvald’s a force to reckon with.”

I nodded and told her, “The king has our forces hidden in the wilds a few days away.”

What’s left of our forces, anyway.

“We’ll be ready.” Hu looked at the kids around her.

I glanced at them. Even little Elena looked as serious as any soldier. I didn’t want to see any of them hurt, and they were no match for Lord Vincent’s army—not for the Wildmen or the raiders from the South. I struggled to find the words to tell them these children were not really fit to join King Justin’s army. “I came to help you all get out. To try to show you a route away,” I said.

Widow Hu frowned. “Seb, you’ve been gone from Monger’s Lane for a time, but know this—this was our home. It’s broken and battered, but this is a war. These folks don’t just need a king to believe in, they need to stand up and stand on their own.” She stared at me, her eyes magnified by the thick goggles. “Monger’s Lane has always been a bit of a law unto itself, and now…now we’ve all suffered. And we aim to give some of that back.” With a nod, she took a breath as if there was no more to say.

Turning, she started down the littered alleyway. The children followed her, so I did as well, all the while keeping an eye on the sky. I could hear distant clashes still—swords rang out or cries sounded. And sometimes the faint roar of a dragon carried to us. The Widow Hu’s ragtag band followed her as fearlessly as I might have followed Commander Hegarty.

They really were a sort of family. Just as the Dragon Riders had become my family.

Kalax sent me a sort of snort, and thought to me,
You, me and Thea. We clutch.

She was right—she and Thea and myself, the three of us had shared a lot. We had flown together, slept side-by-side and kept each other alive. Wasn’t that the very definition of a good family?

“Come on, slowcoach!” Elena called out. She had stopped at the end of the alleyway and shouted back to me, waving a small arm. I picking up my pace and jogged to keep up with the fighters of Monger’s Lane.

Around the next corner, the hairs stood up on the back of my neck. Kalax didn’t so much think at me as she sent a feeling of uneasiness. My nose was filled with the sooty smell of hot air and ash, but the breeze shifted and I smelled something else. The unmistakable musky scent of a dragon.

A dragon was near—I could sense it. It wasn’t Kalax or any of the other dragons from the enclosure. This feeling was alien—it was wild and its mind was…different. I glanced up, but I couldn’t see the shadow of the wild dragon…I couldn’t hear it, yet.

I knew the affinity could be a two-way line of communication—if I could sense the wild dragon, it could sense me. I tried to clamp down on my thoughts, pushing away everything that might give me away as a Dragon Rider. If the wild dragon thought we were harmless, it might fly elsewhere, looking for a better fight.