Read The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga Online

Authors: Josh VanBrakle

Tags: #lefthanded, #japanese mythology, #fantasy about a dragon, #young adult fantasy, #epic fantasy, #fantasy books, #dragon books

The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga (4 page)

BOOK: The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga
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Only Amroth’s quick reactions saved him from
death. When he’d called Iren’s name, he had turned to face the lad,
revealing that he’d known all along where Iren was. Reaching out,
the captain grabbed Balear by the sleeve and tugged hard. The pair
spilled over the dais just as the chandelier smashed down,
splintering the stage, the light fixture, and all the musical
instruments into countless pieces. Shards rained over the audience,
but fortunately, no one was seriously injured.

As the crowd slowly recovered, all eyes
turned to Iren. He gulped at their faces. Some looked at him with
fear, others with loathing, and still more with blank stares
pretending he didn’t exist at all.

King Azuluu slammed his meaty hands on
either side of his throne. “Seize him!” he roared. “Bring him
forward to meet the justice of Lodia!”

Two Castle Guard members approached Iren.
Though they looked like touching him was the last thing they wanted
to do, they grabbed him roughly and shoved him on his knees before
the king, Amroth, and Balear.


Too long have we suffered
your antics! Now you’ve nearly killed the heir to the throne!” The
king swung his fat fist. “I took you in when any other man would
have let you die, filthy Left orphan dog. This is the thanks I get
for my kindness. Well, it ends here. Justice!
Execution!”

The crowd cheered, their faces gleaming with
sadistic glee. The denizens of Haldessa enjoyed nothing more than a
public beheading.

Iren scowled at the unfairness of it all. He
hadn’t meant to hurt anyone; it was just a mistake of timing. The
oaf only wanted an excuse to get rid of him.


My liege, please do not do
that.”

Iren’s eyes leapt to the speaker: none other
than Captain Amroth Angustion himself. He had spoken quietly, so
that only Balear, Azuluu, Iren, and the guards grasping him could
hear. Even so, the crowd fell silent just seeing Amroth’s lips
move.


What is the meaning of
this?” the king asked curtly. “Explain yourself,
Amroth!”

The captain gestured at Iren. “If he dies,
my mission cannot succeed. I can’t defeat the Quodivar without him.
Choose between your vengeance and your desire for security in
Lodia.”

The king looked like he might detonate.
“Just a minute!” he cried, his face purple. “How can you think you
can rely on Ir . . . Ir . . .”
he seemed unable to bring himself to utter Iren’s name, “that thing
for this mission of yours? This plan risks not only your life, but
the hopes and dreams of all Lodians. With such stakes, you would
put your trust in a Left?”

Amroth’s expression leveled, and his voice
matched his even look. He raised his volume so the crowd could
hear, “No soldier in Lodia can match Iren’s strength. You’ve read
the stories. He is a weapon. We should use him as such.”

Iren couldn’t decide whether Amroth’s words
made him happy or upset. True, the captain was sticking up for him
as no one had ever done before, but getting referred to as an
object wasn’t exactly uplifting.

An old woman near the front of the crowd
stood. Iren recognized her as Haldessa’s librarian. “Captain
Angustion, please think of what you’re saying! I have read all the
great texts of Lodia. I know of these Lefts; the oldest histories
speak of them. None mention a name, but they all agree on two
points. The Lefts spawn from darkness, and they bring death and
destruction to all in their path! Just look at that chandelier!”
She turned slightly, revealing a thin cut on her shoulder where a
piece of glass from the shattered fixture had sliced into her.
“That monster wounded many tonight, including myself. Worse, he
almost crushed you and Sergeant Platarch to death, simply for his
own amusement! He may look like a child, but he is a devil!”


Indeed,” Amroth spoke as
though the librarian had proven his point. “Not many can claim to
have nearly killed Amroth Angustion. Instead of wasting such
destructive talent, why not point him in the direction of the
Quodivar?”

The crowd had nothing to say to that, but
Iren could see them all fuming, particularly the Castle Guard
members. Probably they felt cheated, believing Iren had stolen
their spot on Amroth’s team.

Looking ill at ease, the king raised his
hands. “We’ve all had a lot to drink tonight. Let’s retire. Level
heads will prevail in the morning. Guards, take the boy to the
Tower of Divinion and ensure he stays there.”

While no one had any desire to leave, the
king had given his order. Slowly, the crowd headed out the back
door. Several of those nearest Iren spat on him as they passed.
Once everyone else departed, the two men clutching Iren dragged him
to his tower chamber, tossed him inside, and slammed the door
shut.

Iren pressed his ear to the door. From just
outside he could hear the two men’s tense breathing. He couldn’t
escape. Hopelessly, he walked to his room’s window, staring into
the starlit night. It was the first full moon of spring, and
despite the crisp air, Iren found it clean and refreshing. If he
had to pick a last night alive, this one would just about do
it.

Why wait? Azuluu wouldn’t change his mind on
something like this, not even for Amroth. The castle residents
would riot if the king denied them their spectacle. Iren clenched
his teeth. Azuluu wouldn’t let him die quickly. He would be
tortured, publicly humiliated, and then executed in as grotesque a
manner as Azuluu could devise. He would suffer immensely, just to
put on a good show.

He slapped both palms on the windowsill.
“Absolutely not!” If he had to die, he certainly wouldn’t let them
have fun with it. Sticking his head out the window, he noted the
dark courtyard a dizzying distance below him. If he fell from this
height, there was no way he could survive.

He had one foot on the sill when he heard a
muffled scuffling on the other side of his door. Curious, he
retreated from the brink and faced the tower steps. All fell silent
for a moment, and then his door creaked open. Iren’s eyes
widened.

Standing there, the two guards unconscious
at his feet, was Captain Amroth Angustion.

CHAPTER THREE
A Night of Three Murders

 

 

Iren stood frozen until Amroth hissed, “Quit
stalling and give me a hand with these two.” They dragged the
soldiers into the room. Amroth swiftly shut the door behind him,
leaning against it with his full weight so that no one could open
it from the other side.

Finding his voice at last, Iren asked
belligerently, “What on Raa do you think you’re doing?”

In the wan moonlight, Amroth’s mysterious
countenance frightened Iren a little. “You pulled quite the stunt
tonight. Thanks to you, I have to accelerate my plans.”

The young man’s ears grew hot. Unspoken
between them was the fact that if Amroth hadn’t stood up for him,
Iren might well be dead now. Still, Amroth’s actions made Iren
suspicious. “What plans?”


You’ve no doubt made the
same determination I have about Azuluu. Tomorrow, he’ll order me to
choose a replacement and then execute you. He’s left us no other
choice. We’ll leave immediately. Do you know the stables just
inside the castle gate?”

Iren nodded, and Amroth continued, “Meet me
there an hour before dawn. Make sure no one sees you. You shouldn’t
have any issues. Everyone’s too drunk to pay much attention. You,
Balear, and I will sneak out while everyone else is sleeping or
fighting their hangovers.”

With a skeptical look Iren asked, “You’ll
directly defy the king? Why? For that matter, why did you stand up
for me, or want me on this mission in the first place? I can’t
fight!”

Amroth averted his face and remained silent
for a long time. When he at last looked at Iren again, the smug,
almost arrogant expression he had worn during much of the feast had
disappeared. A forlorn look replaced it, one that gazed upon Iren
in a way the boy had never seen before. It was not fear, or hate,
or even a desire for him to go away.

It was pity.


I’m sorry,” Amroth
struggled to say.


For what?”


I’ve made your life a
nightmare.”

Iren scowled. “You and everyone else in this
castle.”

Amroth shook his head. “No, you don’t
understand. They all treat you poorly, but I caused them to do so.
With this mission, I’ll atone for that mistake.”


What do you
mean?”

Working his mouth, Amroth asked, “Do you
know how you came to Haldessa Castle?”


No. I’ve lived here my
whole life.”


As I thought. You were
only an infant when I brought you here.”

Raising a disbelieving eyebrow, Iren asked,
“You brought me here?”

The captain nodded. “Just over seventeen
years ago.”

Iren’s head spun. He had, of course,
wondered about his past for many years. He longed to know who the
Lefts were, why people hated them so much, and why he was the only
one. He could never get answers on his own, and nobody would ever
talk to him about it. “Please, Captain,” he pleaded, “tell me.”


Are you sure?” Amroth
asked darkly. “Sometimes, ignorance is better than the
truth.”

Iren’s voice hardened. “Yes. You can’t
expect me to say otherwise when you’ve already said what you
have.”

Amroth sighed and motioned to the bed.
“You’d better sit down for this.” Iren obeyed, and the captain
began, “Seventeen years ago, I was a lieutenant in the Castle
Guard. Because of my skill, Captain Tret Ortromp, a bull of a man
and the Captain of the Guard before me, chose me to accompany him
on an investigation. We’d heard rumors from farmers in Tropos
Village that a Left man lived nearby. The villagers claimed he
committed all sorts of terrible crimes. Officially, our mission was
to verify their claims and, if true, arrest the Left. However,
Captain Ortromp had other plans. He believed the legends about the
Lefts and concluded that we couldn’t capture one alive. Instead,
after he learned the location of the farm where the Left supposedly
lived, he decided we would go just after midnight and kill the man
in his sleep.”

Iren felt sick. He didn’t like where
Amroth’s story was heading at all.


The night we arrived at
the farmhouse,” the captain continued, “we found it deserted. At
first we were surprised, but then we heard, off in the distance,
the ringing of steel against steel. We crept toward the sounds, and
we were shocked to come upon two human shapes clashing in the
fields, their weapons sparking on impact. A third person huddled
away from the combatants, clutching a package. I didn’t know which
of these people, if indeed any of them, was the Left we sought, but
I sat transfixed as the battle unfolded.


I can’t say how long the
pair fought, but it ended in an instant. One fighter lost his
sword, the weapon landing but a few feet from the kneeling person.
His enemy slew him with one stroke. Then, to my horror, the winner
walked over to the helpless crouching person and sliced out their
throat. I reached for my sword, but my captain stopped me. The
murderer then hesitated, and I feared he’d noticed us. After what
felt an eternity, though, he vanished into the night. Once he
departed, Ortromp and I inspected the battlefield. The dead
combatant was our Left; his sheath hung on his right hip. The
kneeling person was a woman, and she too had departed this world.
Whether or not she was a Left, I don’t know. When we examined the
bundle she guarded with her life, the contents shocked us both: an
infant boy.”

Iren barely managed to whisper a single
word, “Me.”

Amroth nodded. “I can only conclude that the
two slain people on the field that night were your parents. I don’t
know why, but their killer must have chosen to spare you at the
last moment.”

Sitting on his bed, Iren’s vision grayed. In
all his years, he’d never once suspected that someone had murdered
his parents. He couldn’t believe it. A thousand questions filled
his mind, but two took the fore. Who? Why?

Then a new question popped into his head,
and struggling to regain his composure, he said, “Wait. If Ortromp
hated Lefts enough to kill a defenseless man in his sleep, wouldn’t
he also want to slay a Left baby as well?”

Amroth began shaking, as though something
terrible inside him were finally bubbling to the surface. At length
he said, “I am that reason, Iren. Ortromp did want you dead. He
ordered me to kill you, but I couldn’t do it. Left or not, you were
just an infant.”


I doubt Ortromp liked your
decision.”

Amroth collapsed beside the door, his head
in his hands. “No, he didn’t. He told me that while you might look
like an innocent baby, if we let you grow, you would become a demon
just like your father. Then he shoved me aside and said if I lacked
the resolve to do what was necessary, he would. Sword drawn, he
came for you.”

Iren’s heart thumped in his chest. Even
though he knew he couldn’t have died that night, Amroth’s tone and
the haunting moonlight filled him with dread.


I didn’t think twice,” the
captain cried. “You didn’t choose to have a Left father. We didn’t
even know if you were left-handed. I couldn’t accept Ortromp
killing you, so
I . . . I . . .”

All at once the captain, the great Captain
Amroth Angustion, newly appointed heir to the throne, started
shrieking in a panic, “I killed him, Iren! I attacked Ortromp from
behind and stabbed him. My body shook when I realized what I had
done. It still keeps me awake. He was my commander! I, who have
risen to become head of Lodia’s military, slew a Lodian
officer!”

BOOK: The Wings of Dragons: Book One of the Dragoon Saga
10.29Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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