Dragons of Kings (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 2)

  Dragons of Kings

  Upon Dragon’s Breath Trilogy Book 2

  Ava Richardson

  Contents

  Dragons of Kings

  Mailing List

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Learning to Fly

  1. Unconvinced

  2. Intruders & Cherry-Smoke

  3. Old Clothes & New Friends

  4. The Council of Dragons

  5. A Dragon’s Peace

  6. Northward

  7. Saffron’s Lesson

  Learning to Fight

  8. Warning Signs

  9. A True Dragon Friend

  10. The Boy-King

  11. Curious

  12. Challenged

  13. Saffron and the King

  14. Bower and the Dragons

  Learning to Lead

  15. Unwelcome

  16. Dangerous Alliances

  17. How to Befriend a Dragon

  18. Riding Dragons

  19. Of Riders and Friends

  20. Countering the King

  21. Riders on the Storm

  Epilogue

  End of ‘Dragons of Kings’

  Thank you!

  Upon Dragon’s Breath Trilogy Book 2

  By Ava Richardson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  RELAY PUBLISHING EDITION, NOVEMBER 2016

  Copyright © 2016 Relay Publishing Ltd.

  All rights reserved. Published in the United Kingdom by Relay Publishing.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, published, distributed, displayed, performed, copied or stored for public or private use in any information retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any mechanical, photographic or electronic process, including electronically or digitally on the Internet or World Wide Web, or over any network, or local area network, without written permission of the author.

  Typesetting by Ian Ink

  Cover Art by Joemel Requeza

  www.relaypub.com

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  Blurb

  The battle for Torvald begins.

  As the young heir of a noble house fallen into decay, Bower has reluctantly shouldered the mantle he was born with—that of Torvald’s rightful king. It is his destiny to throw off the shackles of King Enric and lead his people to freedom, or so he’s been told.

  With the help of the wild and untamed Dragon Rider Saffron, he hopes to unite his downtrodden people. It will take an uneasy alliance with a rogue band of Dragon Riders and their charismatic leader, Ryland, to challenge the Dark Mage king, but distrust threatens to tear apart the force that he’s risked everything to build.

  Now, on the eve of battle, Bower will have to fulfill a mystical prophecy and become the leader he was born to be, or risk his future kingdom falling apart. Surrounded on all sides by deadly foes, he must face not only the evil king, but his deep doubts about himself.

  Prologue

  The Stolen Child

  The Salamander Prophecy: Old and young will unite to rule the land from above. Upon dragon’s breath comes the return of the True King. It will be his to rebuild the glory of Torvald.

  “What do you want for your birthday, Bower?”

  I look up at my father, Nev, and tell him at once, “A dragon.”

  He laughs. “Dear Bower, one day you might see one, if you are lucky. A dragon back in Torvald. Now that would be a sight.” He glances over his shoulder as if afraid someone will hear.

  I am not yet of age, but I am old enough to know not to speak of dragons in front of anyone other than my father.

  Seeing no one in the study with us, my father goes to his desk and pulls out a book. He brings it to me and hands me the heavy, leather-bound volume. “You must read this only when and where no one can see you.”

  I run a hand over the book’s binding and open it. The page seems bright with color—a red dragon. My father touches the drawing and says, “That is a Crimson Red. Once the dragon of the kings of Torvald—the Flamma-Torvalds rode such a dragon.”

  I touch the dragon—but it is a flat image with no life, no warmth, no hard scales. Looking up at my father, I ask, “Do you think, one day, I will ride such a dragon?”

  He puts a hand on my shoulder. “That would be my wish. But for now…” Taking the book from me, he hides it in the room behind what seems a shelf of dull books on farming and architecture. “For now, we will hide your book. But when you cannot sleep, come into the hidden room and read. Learn about dragons.”

  We start down the stairs to the main rooms, and I have to ask, “But, Father, the king says—everyone says—dragons aren’t real.”

  He smiles, but his eyes still seem dark and sad. “Oh, they were real. And that is a secret you must keep. Our family has many secrets, as does House Daris. One day, perhaps I will be able to tell you all of them. But if I cannot, I hope that you will understand.”

  “Why wouldn’t you be able to tell me?”

  My father shakes his head. We stop in the great hall, the entrance to House Daris. My father puts his hands on my shoulders. “Bower, my child, throughout your life I have told you things that perhaps I should not—in the eyes of our king, they are lies. But, know this, I have tried to teach you as much as I can about a forbidden past. You need to know the truth just as one day you will need to know all of the skills and learning that I have tried to instill in you. There is a reason I have you reading the banned books as well as the forbidden stories of long ago. There is a reason I wish you to study strategy, tactics, administration, geography and so much more.”

  I stare up at him—I don’t understand.

  Before I can ask, the door shakes with a pounding fist. My father’s face pales. He waits and a servant answers the door—he is also pale and shaking.

  At once the hall fills with the Iron Guard, and then with a captain who strides in, glances at me and then faces my father. “In the name of King Enric, charges have been placed against you, Nev of House Daris, that you spread lies about how our king’s illustrious ancestor Hacon Maddox did not free Torvald, but stole the throne and how you read the banned books. What say you to these charges, Nev of House Daris?”

  My father steps forward so that I am behind him now. Glancing around it seems the Iron Guard surround us. But Cook comes up from the kitchen stairs and puts her hand on my shoulders.

  My father smiles a little and waves a hand. “Look if you will. You will find no banned books.”

  It seems a dangerous gamble to me, but my father has hidden rooms throughout all of House Daris. Our family is an old one, one of the few original noble houses. I know House Daris was never as grand as House Flamma or House Torvald, the royal houses. Or they were once royal.

  Now they are banned names—just as the stories of Torvald’s history are banned.

  The Iron Guard march through our house, their metal boots clanking. I try to be brave, not to shake, to stand tall like my father. But it is hard—the Iron Guard is terrifying. I know, too, the stories about them.

  But they come back to the hall with empty hands.

 
The captain faces my father, his eyes narrow and hard. “And what say you to the charges that you spread lies about your king?”

  My father shakes his head. “I, Nev of House Daris, do claim I speak nothing but true accounts.”

  The captain’s mouth twitches down. “And do you associate with those rebel troublemakers, the Salamanders?”

  Now I frown—why is the captain asking about a kind of lizard. I don’t understand this, but Cook does for her hands tighten on my shoulders and she gives a small gasp.

  My father glances at me, then at Cook. He gives a small nod as if telling her something, and then looks at me and says, “Bower, I believe this captain will demand I go before the king to pledge and prove my loyalty. It may be…some time before I return. This means you are Bower of House Daris.”

  The captain waves and the Iron Guard grabs my father’s arms. He shakes his head. “That is unnecessary. I will go with you. But who will care for my son if I do not return?”

  It is my turn to gasp and I pull away from Cook and stand next to my father. “I will go with you.”

  Looking down at me, he shakes his head. He smiles again, but his eyes are even darker and sadder. “You carry my hopes, Bower. Never forget that. You must remain.”

  Stepping forward, the captain says, “The king looks after his loyal subjects. Your son will become his ward, and will be raised by the court.”

  My father glances at the captain and shakes his head. “The truth is my son is grown enough, and my staff will care for him.” He starts to walk out the front door.

  I call out to him. “Father?”

  He pauses in the doorway. The Iron Guard surrounds him now. I want to beat at their metal skins. I want to pick up a sword to defend him. But he only shakes his head and says, “Remember, Bower, the fairy tales about dragon’s breath and what it can do. Never doubt your mother—rest her spirit—loved you. As do I. And whatever you choose to do with your life, know that it is imperative that you survive. If you ever have need, others will come to your aid. Remember Torvald is your home, Bower, to be cared for and looked after.”

  He turns away and the Iron Guard closes in. I try to run to his side, but Cook holds me by my shoulders and our steward shuts the door. I can only cry out, “Father!”

  My skin chills, my heart thuds heavy…and I know I will never see my father again. He is gone—as my mother was taken by sickness, one that came sudden and took her too quickly. Now my father is gone. I am all that is left of House Daris.

  But what is the secret my father mentioned?

  Will I find it in his library?

  Will it help me find him?

  Pulling away from Cook, I run upstairs to head onto the roof to try for one last glimpse of my father. But all I am left with is a book about dragons. And dreams of one day seeing dragons in the sky above Torvald.

  Part I

  Learning to Fly

  1

  Unconvinced

  And you are sure? I asked Jaydra, my dragon-sister. Bower really is supposed to be the king? I sent the thoughts to Jaydra, but I was looking at Bower—still skinny and not much different than when we first met. But then I had to rethink that. He was different. We had both been through much of late.

  Jaydra gave a snort and her consciousness brushed up against mine. It always made me feel safer, as if between us an invisible forest existed which she was forever roaming inside and all I had to do was ruffle the leaves of thoughts and there she would be. I had once tried to explain this relationship to Bower, but he hadn’t really understood.

  And now he was supposed to be King of Torvald.

  Of course, Jaydra had managed to speak to Bower back in the city, when Bower had been imprisoned by King Enric. A man related to me. I still wasn’t really sure I liked being a Maddox, but I had no choice in that blood tie. I did with my dragon-kin.

  Do not worry, den-sister. Bower will grow and learn. He will become King of Dragon Mountain. Jaydra’s thoughts seemed fixed with unflinching certainty. Waves of reassurance and calm reached me. I couldn’t feel such optimism.

  I had seen how the magic of my blood—the same magic King Enric had—was something to fear. I had found some control over it, but I had as much to learn as Bower.

  Thanks, Jaydra. I sent the thoughts back to her, but I knew she could sense my unease.

  Ahead of us on the wide river path, Bower tripped over a gnarled root and went sprawling. His hands vanished into the muddy river bank. He pulled himself out, his fingers dripping the thick, black sludge. We were heading back from our latest training, and I’d selected the river path through the dense island jungle as one of the few places where Jaydra could accompany us on land. We could have flown back to the clutch on Jaydra’s back, but Bower needed to build more muscle. And he still was more of a city dweller than anything.

  He gave a low growl of frustration, strode over to the nearest patch of greenery, and reached for the leaves to brush off the worst of the mud.

  “Not that,” I called out. Too late. He grabbed the Biting Reed and rubbed is over his hands. A moment later he gave a shout.

  “That’s Biting Reed.” Coming up to him, I waved at the plant. “You can tell from the tiny leaves and the long stems. Now shove your hands back in the mud. It’s the only thing that will cool the itching.”

  He shot me a sideways look as if I was to blame for his pain, but he did as I asked, turning back to the river and plunging his hands into the cool, fast flowing river water and the mud.

  “Is everything out to kill me?” Bower muttered.

  Jaydra splashed into the deep river as if it was a good idea to swim—or look for fish.

  Are you certain he is supposed to be the king? I had to ask of her again.

  Zenema is certain, Jaydra thought back to me, and closed her mind as quickly as if she had shut a door between us.

  “I guess what Zenema says should be good enough for me, too,” I muttered. Jaydra dipped into the river and resurfaced with a burst of hot dragon-breath, showering water over Bower. He yelled and then laughed.

  I imagined presenting this mud-stained, laughing, accident-prone king to world. But he wasn’t all bad. He knew more about books and learning and history than anyone I’d ever met. He had even saved my life when we had to escape Torvald. And he was in this fight with me to defeat King Enric and his Iron Guard. If we could.

  Saffron. The voice of Zenema hit my skull like a knife blade against a rock. As one of the oldest of dragons, Zenema could summon all to her side with just a thought. Jaydra lifted her snout out of the water and regarded me with her golden eyes. She’d heard Zenema’s call, too.

  Glancing up at the sky, I saw the sun was beginning to set. It hovered over the western horizon, burning the sky into rich oranges and deeper reds.

  Straightening, Bower glanced around us. “Who called you?” He kept looking around as if expecting to see Zenema perched on a nearby branch like a bird. It surprised me that Bower could be so receptive to Zenema’s voice. But then again Zenema was an ancient and powerful dragon.

  “Zenema. I need to hurry back,” I told Bower. And then turned to Jaydra. “Will you guide Bower? This time without a flurry from your clutch-brothers.” The younger dragons tended to treat Bower like a toy that might amuse them, rolling him around on the den floor.

  Jaydra gave bird-like chirrups in a tone that gave away how she thought this funny.

  I shot her an annoyed look. But she only thought back to me, Bower will one day be king so he must become accustomed to some dragons wanting to eat him.

  Only Zenema’s youngest clutch-brother wanted to eat him. Now, enough. I must go.

  When the den-mother called, you ran.

  I scrambled up the rocks that hovered over one side of the river, leaving Jaydra and Bower to find their way back to the den. Being smaller sometimes helped for I could climb where few others could. Of course, Jaydra might fly Bower back to the den, but that was her choice.

  We had travelled far toda
y, following the river that led from the center of the island and Den Mountain where all the dragons of the Western Isles dwelled. These cliffs would take me straight up to the mountain.

  There were actually few land routes up the sides of the mountain for the dragons could fly and didn’t need to walk. Those few that did exist were just shelves of rock that jutted from the mountain, big enough to accommodate the wide body of a dragon. Occasional waterfalls fell from the sides of the mountain and lush plants grew on the slopes. For a human, such as myself, I had to climb from one wide spot to the next, coming at last to the far western shoulder of the Den Mountain, to where I already knew that Zenema was waiting at the perch.

  From this spire of rock, which formed a wide arrowhead that jutted out from the shoulder of Den Mountain, I could see the ocean, now streaked with gold from the setting sun. Zenema sat here, her silver-white back to me as she regarded the deepening red sky.

  Did Jaydra ever tell you what dragons call a red sunset like this? Zenema spoke to me with her mind, as clear and as resounding as any voice spoken aloud. As a queen dragon, Zenema commanded all who lived upon this island. Power resonated from every line and curve of her body, from every gesture of head or eye flick. She was a perfect balance of strength, grace and beauty. Now that I could compare her to the humans and the sorcerer-king I had met, I found her even more awe-inspiring.

  No, den-mother, I answered. Sitting down next to her, I dangled my feet over the ledge of rock and sat facing the sunset. The air smelled of salt water and a little of Zenema’s warm dragon breath.

  The Breath of the Mother, that is this sky. If you see the Breath of the Mother, it means next day will be clear and perfect for flying. It is a blessing.