Dragons of Kings (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 2) Page 17

  Another voice grew louder in my mind—it spun soft colors of an almost orange-golden hue. It was Bower’s thoughts.

  No one is going to hurt you. We are your friends.

  Does his voice seem to be colors to all dragons now? I asked Jaydra.

  Jaydra’s voice wrapped me in waves of her own unique blue-green energy. Bower is becoming a king.

  And the dragons can all hear him? They will listen to him?

  Was it really that easy? As easy as a trick of the magic in the blood?

  Of course not. Each dragon must decide to listen or not to queen, king or mouse.

  Bower’s thoughts seemed reassuring to me, calming almost. This is Ryland. Ryland brought you fish. He sets you free to choose your own path now.

  A shadow rose up inside Jaydra’s mind—there was something she wasn’t telling me, something she hid with what seemed a cloud, but she thought to me, Dragons sense something different about Bower—just as Saffron is different, too. Dragons can smell the magic you have within you. Jaydra started to push my thoughts away, detaching her mind from mine.

  Am I not your sister in words and heart and mind? I asked her, feeling a little hurt. The realization that Jaydra, my closest confidant, might be keeping secrets from me left me feeling isolated in a way that I had never felt before.

  All dragons have their secrets, even Jaydra There is something Jaydra does not understand about magic and humans…and what Bower is and what we are. Give Jaydra time to think.

  With that, Jaydra pushed me firmly back into my body. With a gasp, I staggered a step. I was left small and inconsequential once more, dizzy from the sudden shift from being dragon-sized down to Saffron-sized.

  Ryland grasped my elbow. “Are you well?”

  I pulled away from him and simply waved a hand.

  Bower stepped even closer to the black dragons, his face creased in concentration. Something dark spilled from his nose. Blood. What would forcing his innate blood-magic do to him? He seemed to be having some sort of effect on the younger dragons—they stared at Bower as if they could not look away. However, Bower’s nose started to bleed. Even this seemed to interest the dragons, for one came close enough to sniff Bower.

  Nudging Ryland, I whispered, “Feed them, now while they are interested and not terrified.”

  Ryland seemed to snap out of his own haze of wonder. He bent and pulled a fish from the pack at his feet. The closest dragon snapped it from the air. White-eyes came closer to snag a fish. Another fish, another throw and another snap of dragon jaws.

  Of the twenty or so wild dragons, about twelve began to crowd forward, wanting fish or to examine Bower. A few of those gathered gave gasps, but many edged closer to see the young, black dragons, their eyes wide and their expressions ones of awe. Some even muttered, “Why did we keep them locked up for so long?”

  “I’m running out of fish,” Ryland told me.

  Glancing down, I saw Ryland’s pack was almost empty. However, I was starting to worry about Bower. Blood still trickled from his nose—he kept wiping it away—and he began to sway on his feet.

  “Bower.” Stepping to his side, I shook his arm. “What is wrong?”

  Bower’s sending of his thoughts blinked out at once. The wild dragons all fell back, but their hunger was overriding the anxiety now filtering out from them. They had not yet flown away.

  White-Eye thumped the ground with her tail and whatever that meant it wasn’t anything good.

  Jaydra? I asked.

  The black chides her children for listening to the king-human. She calls them back to her, Jaydra’s thoughts didn’t have any worry in them, but then Ysix rose up on her hind legs and let out a long roar.

  I did not need Jaydra to translate as White-eye turned to confront Ysix and exchange hisses and angry whistles with her. They were arguing about whether humans could be trusted.

  The argument was decided when White-eye let out a sudden jet of flame—a rare feat for any dragon. Spreading her wings, she launched herself into the air and circled the Three-Rivers clan’s settlement. The other black dragons crouched in the meadow, looking from White-eye to Bower and then to Ysix. From their hisses and grumbling, they sounded as if they, too, were arguing about what to do.

  Ysix gave another roar. White-eye answered with a hiss and another flame. Wings spread out and with a flurry of movement, roughly half the black dragons took to the air, joining White-eye. The dark cloud of dragons circled once before heading north, into the snow-capped mountains.

  Sounding distressed, Bower shouted, “We have to stop them. We need every dragon we can get.”

  “We don’t need those dragons,” I told him.

  Ryland smiled and spread out his arms to indicate the twelve dragons who had remained and who now were nosing Ryland’s fish pack, looking for more. “Saffron is right. We should be proud of what we have here.” Turning to his warriors, he ordered, “Bring them more food!”

  I held up a hand and stepped closer to the black dragons. “No. Leave them to Ysix for now. They have just lost their den-mother and need another strong dragon to reassure them.”

  That is true Saffron. Ysix’s thoughts reached out to me, and from the way Ryland’s face paled I knew her thoughts had touched his mind, too.

  Spreading her wings, Ysix glided down into the meadow. She called the black dragons to her with whistles and soft purrs. The black dragons cautiously approached her.

  Leave us, Bower, Saffron and Ryland of Three-Rivers, Ysix thought to us. I knew it for a command, not a request. These young ones have suffered enough and they need to learn to hunt for themselves. Ysix will teach them.

  Ryland headed back to the settlement with his people. I stayed close to Bower in case he needed help. His nose had stopped bleeding at last—meaning it had something to do with his trying to communicate with the dragons. Just now, he seemed dazed, but he smiled at me and said, “We still have to work with the dragons—feeding them is a long way still from flying with them.”

  I glanced at the eastern mountains. “It is. And I worry we will not have time. The Iron Guard is still out there, and the king’s army. We might have a few days, maybe a week at most to train before they get here.”

  Bower nodded. “I’ve been thinking on that. And I think we need to ask Ysix and the Crimson Reds if they could keep an eye on the king’s army—but also maybe they can divert them away from this settlement.”

  It took most of the night to work out a plan that Ysix—and the Three-Rivers clan—would both approve. Ysix had been busy with the black dragons, teaching them how to fish in the rivers and integrating them into her brood. The red dragons still kept to themselves, but Ysix spoke to them in dragon, and seemed to get some agreement—they hated the Iron Guard it seemed and approved of any plan to harass them. The Three-River clan also finally agreed to set scouts out to watch any path that allowed approach to their settlement—they feared losing the lives of more scouts, but with orders to be alert and to leave if any of the king’s men were spotted, that seemed to reassure everyone.

  The red dragons flew off that night to scout out the king’s army—they would be able to spot them in the darkness or the daylight, for they could smell the army and the Iron Guard as well. Ysix told them not to attack, just to draw the army away from the settlement—lure them into heading north instead of west. The Three-River clan scouts left at first light. It was a good plan and would gain us a little time to train.

  I used some of that time for a bath and a hot meal, and to clean my green leather tunic and polish my boots. Bower spent his time—after being forced into at least some clean clothes by the women of the settlement—with the Three-Rivers clan working to make dragon saddles. I had never seen such a thing, but Bower insisted he had seen detailed drawings in books of the harness once used by the Dragon Riders of Torvald.

  The saddles at least made sense to me in that no one here had grown up riding dragons. I knew how to cling to scales or spines or horns, but these riders knew n
othing. The saddle would help them not fall to their deaths. It took hours for Bower to finally approve all the harness straps, for he worked hard to make certain the leather would be wide enough to hold but would not alarm the dragons or harm them.

  Over the morning meal in the great hall—warm bread and slabs of roasted goat—Ryland announced to the Three-Rivers clan that it was time to begin training their dragons.

  Bower, for all of his wise words yesterday, looked only too bright-eyed and eager to follow Ryland now, but I stood, pushing back my plate and told them all, “That is not how it is done. There is no training of a dragon as you would a horse or a mountain pony. A dragon is a partner—a friend. A dragon will choose who to respect and who to ignore. That means not every dragon and every person will fit together, just as not every person will be your friend.”

  Bower frowned, Ryland tugged at the braids in his beard, but other heads began to nod as if I must know everything about dragons. Of course, all I had known was what I’d learned growing up with the dragons of the Western Isles. Jaydra and I had simply bonded with each other. I could still recall that she had made the first move to become my friend. None of the other dragons in her clutch chose to be with me.

  Jaydra sent me warm thoughts of approval of my words, and Bower stood and said, “Saffron is right. Everything written about the Dragon Riders of old speaks of how the dragon must choose its riders. In the old days, a dragon might choose two riders, but if your dragons will choose at least one of you that is the first step to a deep bond between the Three-Rivers clan and your dragons.”

  Ryland stood now, too, and said, “I will be the first. Let whichever dragon thinks they can handle me choose me!”

  Since only humans were here, I decided he was speaking more for the benefit of his clan. But his words were good, and he spread his hands wide and said, “Remember, we do this to heal an ancient wound between our species. And we do this to put an end to the evil of Torvald!”

  I noticed Bower wince at those words and I nudged him with my elbow. “It is the evil of my family they are being asked to battle, not your city.”

  He nodded and shrugged.

  Ryland picked up his dragon saddle, fashioned last night, and strode from the building. Bower and I followed, as did most of the Three-Rivers clan. A few hung back—some of the old men and the warriors who were shaking their heads and muttering about the folly of trusting dragons. Women with young children stayed in the settlement, but many of the boys and girls followed us, along with other warriors and women who now wore the leather strips of armor of the Three-Rivers clan. We had with us perhaps thirty people, half of them carrying dragon harness, and I wondered who would be chosen by the dragons and who would be left behind.

  Ysix had taken all the dragons—except the reds that were out hunting the king’s army—to the lake to feed this morning. The black dragons’ bellies stuck out, full from their feasting. But they all became alert as the people of the settlement stepped into the meadow.

  At first the black dragons hung back, staying near Ysix, but she nudged them forward and slowly they approached, a few tasting the air with their long, forked tongues. Their eyes seemed to change color and a few of them gave snuffling breaths of smoke.

  It is like a call you cannot ignore, Jaydra whispered in my mind.

  One black dragon pushed the others out of its way.

  It eased hesitantly toward Ryland, and then stopped, lowering its snub nose to sniff the man’s red hair and beard. It didn’t move, but held its face beside his, gazing directly into his eyes with its own. To his credit, Ryland stood stock still and stared back into the dragon’s eyes. A deep, rattling hiss rose from the black dragon.

  It was purring.

  Ryland raised a broad, battle scarred hand and patted the dragon’s nose. “You are…uh… a good boy.” The dragon butted at Ryland’s hand as if to ask for more attention. A grin spread over Ryland’s face.

  “Girl,” I corrected. “She is a good girl.”

  Ryland beamed ever wider. “Ah, then a beautiful dragon. A strong, fearless beauty!”

  In answer to these compliments, the dragon gave another rattling purr and lowered its head still further. Ryland’s chest puffed out at the sight of a dragon actually enjoying his touch.

  “Ryland, the saddle,” Bower said and nodded to where Ryland had left his dragon harness of leather and cloth.

  Ryland held up the saddle to the dragon so she could see and inspect it. Ryland had also wisely pocketed some of the roast goat, and he slipped a little to the dragon now, leaving her pleased enough with him that she sat waiting patiently.

  Together, Ryland and Bower slowly put the saddle on the black dragon. She hissed at Bower, but Ysix gave a sharp, warning whistle and the black dragon lowered her head and huffed out a breath.

  Bower, his voice low and soft, showed Ryland and the others how to fasten the saddle, adjusting it to allow for the dragon’s size, and any spines. To fasten the harness straps, Ryland had to crawl under the dragon. I saw his face pale, but he took a breath and managed to accomplish the task. Glancing around, I saw that Ryland was gaining new respect from his people.

  So was Bower.

  While Ryland seemed aware of his dragon and her moods, Bower did not. He kept talking, explaining things, as if he was lecturing Jaydra.

  “And then these tie here and here, leaving space for lances, bows and spears. That was how it was done in every drawing I’ve ever seen of the harness of the Dragon Riders of old. Really, we should have a helmet as well and armor, and another saddle and harness a little further back, for a second rider to act as your Protector.”

  “Protector?” Ryland almost laughed. “Why would I need a protector? I am on a dragon.”

  Bower straightened and blinked twice. “That is a very good point. But there always used to be two riders on every dragon. One was called a Protector, who used the weapons, and the other a Navigator, who could read maps and communicate with other riders. Maybe that was just a tradition of the academy, but I wonder if there was a need for it that evolved such a system?” He tapped his chin and I could see he was getting lost in ideas.

  Jumping in, I asked Ryland, “Is there any other rider your dragon wishes to choose?”

  Ryland slapped a thick hand on the dragon’s neck and spoke to her, which I took as a good sign. “You can if you want, you know.” His dragon stared at him and would not even look at anyone else. Ryland’s grin widened. “We have chosen each other. That is enough for us, I think.”

  Bower nodded and glanced at those gathered. “Who wants to go next?”

  A forest of hands rose as everyone clamored for the opportunity to have a dragon as a friend. We faced a busy morning of dragons choosing their riders and their friends.

  Stepping closer to me, Bower watched the scene as dragons either snubbed someone trying to touch them or turned and singled a person from the crowed. A few dragons were happy to pick out two riders, but most would take one only. Bower let out a breath. “Well, we have harnessed dragons—now we just have to see if any of these riders can stay in the saddle.”

  18

  Riding Dragons

  “Bank right! Right!” Saffron screamed the words from her perch just ahead of me on Jaydra.

  We had allowed some of the recruits to fly ahead of us so Saffron could keep an eye on them, but she seemed to be spending all of her time yelling at the Three-Rivers clan riders.

  Ahead of us, three black dragons and their riders wove in and out of the clouds, narrowly avoiding each other. They were, quite frankly, all over the sky. We hadn’t had any collisions yet, thanks to Saffron yelling at the riders and Ysix roaring at the black dragons. I rather thought it looked as if we were herding a flock of starlings, if starlings were clumsy, prone to sudden changes of direction and about the size of small houses.

  The choosing had gone smoothly. Only one person had gotten tangled in their dragon’s harness and no one had been bitten. But when it came time to mount an
d fly, four riders had fallen off at once, before the dragon was barely in the air. And with a dozen dragons and riders to train, we split the new riders and their dragons into groups of three. Two of the dragons narrowly missed each other again and I winced.

  Saffron covered her eyes and then shouted to me, “And you want them to be able to scout out the enemy? To even attack and fight and somehow stay in the sky?”

  “Well…” I started to say when one of the black dragons came hurtling toward us. I shouted out Saffron’s name, but Jaydra was already turning and diving low.

  The black dragon coming at us gave an alarmed squawk and turned as well. We missed a collision by little more than an arm’s reach. Jaydra dove down into the forest below.

  She skimmed the surface of the river and its white water and rocks, then rose again into the air. Wind tore at my hair and cut into my skin, but I couldn’t help grinning.

  Ysix roared, and I looked back to see her trying to keep the three black dragons following her and not copying Jaydra’s reckless dive.

  We’d lose half the riders to the water!

  I had to smile as Jaydra lazily soared back to the others, but my grin faded as I wondered if Saffron was right. We had so little time to train—the king’s army was far too close, the Iron Guard far too fierce and we hadn’t even started on how to fight from the back of a dragon.

  Morosely, I watched the black dragons as they flew, falling, then bouncing back up, drunkenly sliding to one side and then the other, stalling and falling again, and almost flipping upside down.

  Where is the graceful, deadly dragon of old?

  I tried to remember the old stories about Dragon Riders flying across the sky and bringing order to the land and terror to the enemy, perfectly in time with each other. Were these dragons trying to do too many things at once? Was it the riders who were throwing the dragons off balance?