Dragons of Wild (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 1) Page 3

When I reached his side, Vic grabbed my arm and pulled me with him. We’d both been heading to the Torvald courthouse, which sat in the higher tier of the city, behind some of the other, older noble houses. There was so few nobles left that it had become an almost unwritten rule to stay together. We strode up the steps to the courthouse along with others who were streaming in to see what the fuss was all about. Master Julian wasn’t the only one to be accused of late, and it seemed to me that more and more names were being added to the list of the king’s enemies. This was not good for the city or its citizens, but I had no idea what I could do.

  I also worried that perhaps Master Julian was one of the dreaded Salamanders—those who wanted the king overthrown. We would soon find out.

  Inside, Vic and I headed for the largest and the most elaborate chamber of the courthouse. The building itself was a series of round, circular chambers. The main one was large with stepped levels that held wooden benches for different blocks to sit together. The room echoed with mumbling, stamping and voices headed to angry arguing. The accusation had stirred up strong feelings. Even though I had every right to be here as Bower of House Daris–one of the original five great noble houses of the citadel of Torvald—most times I felt a fraud for just sitting in session at the courthouse. Too few ever listened to my words, and many thought I was too young to even attend. As always my skin chilled and my stomach knotted. The room stank already of sweat, perfume and fear. I hated this.

  But I knew my duty. I could push where I could to get the people food released from the city stores. I had used much of my own fortune to help others, spending it to at least providing housing for those who would otherwise be out in the cold. But the resources of House Daris had dwindled to little enough—our house still managed to offer up soup for those who had none and bread once a week. I feared, however, this would soon stop—the lines of those in need were growing longer, and House Daris had little money left. I would soon be selling my library—if anyone would but it.

  These were grim thoughts for the day, so I pushed them away and tried to listen to the clamor of voices lifted in the stone chamber.

  “…land reforms! That’s the only way to improve matters and settle these traitors!”

  “No—the king has sent for troops from the southern border to come here. That’ll soon sort all of this business out.”

  “Soldiers—what do we need them for? Let them stay at the border. The Iron Guard is all we need. What do we pay our taxes for if not for them to keep order?”

  “He’s a traitor. I have it on good authority the king is coming this very session to declare it so.”

  Vic flopped onto a bench and grinned. He actually liked the noise and arguments at the courts. He had always been belligerent, even when we were younger. Now that we were of age to attend hearings and help decide the course of the city, he never missed a session.

  I sat next to him and looked down over the sea of heads below. The room seemed washed with bright colors—cloaks and fine tunics, silks and even a few satin breeches. Our seats were always in the top row and the sound echoed hard here. I shook my head. “I’m not sure what good I do. No one wants to hear my opinion, and I would much rather be doing some good in the city, or spend an hour studying.”

  “Those fairy tales again?” Vic laughed.

  “Vic, you know well such words could get me accused of treason.” Any tales of the old times when there was said to be dragons, sorcerers, magic and knights that rode dragons to battle had been forbidden. In fact, it seemed of late that more and more laws were being passed—curfews to restrict movement after dark, laws against more than two meeting in the street, and more and more people seemed to vanish without explanation. I had become uneasy about living in my own city.

  Vic clapped me on the back with one hand. “You worry too much, Bower.” Leaning forward, he whispered. “It may be against the law to read that un-approved stuff, but I don’t see the harm in it. You’re not one of those wild-eyed Salamander prophecy rebels.”

  I nodded. Everyone had heard of the prophecy rebels—those that sought the downfall of King Enric with some old story of how the Maddox line would end. But it seemed to me that specific details of any prophecy were sadly lacking. And I didn’t really believe a prophecy was enough to change our city. We needed…well, I wasn’t certain what we needed, other than change. But how could we bring that about? And did others even want such change?

  Vic certainly didn’t look as if he wished such a thing. Leaning back, he spread his arms over the back of the bench. He looked a young man who owned the world.

  I cast a quick look around. No one sat near to us yet, but if anyone ever found out about the library I had hidden inside my house—most of it about the most treasonous topic of all. I would be lucky if I wasn’t lynched in my own house.

  Trying to take Vic’s mind off such things, I leaned back and crossed my arms. I’d worn my best leather jerkin and breeches, and a silken tunic. All of it felt stiff and awkward. I wished I was back in my own house in my old clothes. Voice raised a little to be heard over the others, I asked, “Just what is all this about Master Julian? Is it true?”

  “That bloated old fool?” Vic laughed, waving over the hubbub to where the Master sat, surrounded by cronies and completely oblivious. “I doubt he’s guilty of anything. But, then again, you never know these days who is a Salamander and who is for the king—except those with the king tend to stay alive.” Vic pointed down to where the proceedings were about to start. “Looks as if the fun is about to begin.”

  The magister, an old man bent with age and bald as well, walked slowly up to the podium that stood in the center of the main floor. He rapped his staff of office on the table three times as was tradition. The crowd mostly ignored him—a fact that I found incredibly frustrating. Did these newer nobles have no respect for the past at all?

  “Gentlemen and gentlewomen of Torvald and its principalities, protectorates and outlying regions.” The magister’s voice, wavering and high-pitched, barely carried to me. “We are gathered here to administer the justice of the court, under the counsel of the elders of the citadel and the wisdom of the king.”

  “Yawn,” Vic muttered. It was the traditional statement the magister always had to give, and yes, it was getting a little boring.

  A shout rose from the side of the hall, near the lobby doors. People were roughly shoved back. The clanking of the Iron Guards echoed as they moved in unison into the chamber. Nobles and merchants scrambled away from the path of those unstoppable guards. Their arrival could mean only one thing—the king had arrived at the chamber.

  The royal herald’s shrill voice split the air as he shouted, “Make way for the king! Make way for King Enric!” The royal herald walked in first, a woman in a rich, red velvet gown decorated with gold embroidered around the hem and the wide cuffs of the sleeves. An old man, dressed in severe black tunic, breeches and boots, hobbled beside her.

  Hobbled? I shook my head. Where was the king? He had certainly never hobbled in his whole life.

  Sitting straighter, I craned for a better view. I looked away, searching for the king. When I looked back again, there was no sign of the old man, but the king himself now strode into the chamber, proud and confident as always, also dressed in black from head to toe. I had no idea where the old man had gone, most likely he had blended into the crowd. The magister bowed and backed away, merging himself with the others in the front row.

  Everyone stood now, and the Iron Guard marched onto the main floor to stand in a line between those gathered and the king.

  King Enric, a man in his prime with black hair wore smoothed and oiled back as was the fashion, a high forehead and steel-grey eyes, lifted his hands and a hush settled over the chamber. He wasn’t a tall man, nor large, but he knew how to command a room. It seemed to me that everyone was holding their breaths—as I was. “Subjects! Nobles of Torvald, I am thankful for your attendance today, and I have come to congratulate you all on your fine work in the
service of the throne and of the city.”

  An enthusiastic drumming of feet and cheers erupted. What fine work? I looked around. To me, the chamber seemed half empty. The nobles here looked a rapacious lot, eager to line their own pockets. The merchants who attended had fat bellies and smug expressions. Not one of them would hear a word about repairing the city walls, or putting in new drains or rebuilding old parts of the city that had become slums. I knew for those were the things I had once mentioned in this chamber, only to be laughed down and mocked until I learned to keep my own council. I was as useless as they were at addressing the many problems Torvald faced—but at least I knew it.

  The king seemed far too unaware.

  “Torvald is growing strong!” King Enric smiled and lifted his hands again. “Just as she has always deserved to. We control more territory than ever before, and the other powers of the world all look to us as their rightful leader. The iron will of Torvald is strong and the Iron Guard is stronger!”

  More cheers and shouts answered the king. His smile widened. He nodded and tucked his hands into the wide belt he wore over his black velvet tunic. I was beginning to wonder if anyone here had arrived by walking through the same impoverished streets I had seen this morning.

  The king lifted a hand and silence fell again. “But, my loyal courtiers and nobles and courtiers, not all is well within our walls. We might be well respected outside of them, but inside Torvald is a growing danger that seeks to undo all our prosperity and peace.” A few shifted, making the wood benches creek. Someone coughed. The king’s gaze swept the room. “It has come to my attention that there is more than one amongst you who is a traitor.”

  My heart began to pound. It seemed to me the king’s stare had stopped on me. Was he about to scream, Bower of House Daris. He turned instead and thrust out a hand, pointing toward the double doors of the entrance.

  “Master Julian!” The king shouted the name.

  Two more of the Iron Guard stepped into the room, dragging Master Julian, one of the newer nobles into the chamber. The man’s fat face sagged with despair and bruises darkened the right side of his face. His fine tunic—satin by the gleam of it—had been torn in places, and his leather breeches looked as if he had been dragged through the city’s muddy ditches. The Iron Guards dropped him at the feet of the king.

  I knew Master Julian only by reputation—he had built a fortune by trading in fine art and rare antiquities, but rumor was that he overcharged and was not averse to creating goods to sell that were no older than a day in their making. Had he cheated the king? Or even worse…was he a rebel? One who believed the king should be overthrown?

  The king glanced down at the man now quivering at his booted feet. “Master Julian, I have it on good authority you have been seen in the vicinity of the old monastery at the top of Mount Hammal.” The king’s voice dropped to a low whisper that everyone could still hear. “The forbidden land. The accursed place. Is there truth in this—or do you deny it?”

  “Oh, by the king’s iron! He hasn’t, has he?” Vic muttered. I glanced at him. His face looked pale and taut, and his eyes glittered with fear.

  Mount Hammal was the long-dead volcano that the citadel of Torvald had been built upon. To be more precise, it was the volcano the citadel was built out of. You couldn’t dig any depth in this city without hitting the hard, black rock that glittered with crystals. It made any building difficult. Old ruins haunted the summit of Mount Hammal, just under the ridge that separated us from the volcano crater. It was accursed ground, forbidden to any save the king and his Iron Guard. Everyone knew spirits walked in those ruins, and dark shadows gathered in the shattered remnants of what was said to have been an old monastery. It was bad luck to so much as take a stone from those walls.

  The king thrust out a finger to point at the man, quivering on his knees before him. “Do you deny it, Master Julian?”

  A hushed silence swept through the entire court.

  Master Julian bowed his head. His voice came out a soft sob, but everyone could hear his words. “Sire! I would never—it must be a mistake.”

  “Are you calling your king a liar?” King Enric’s face reddened. A wave of dizziness swept over me. For an instant it seemed as if I was looking at two men—both the proud king at the height of his powers and an old man’s face that seemed to shimmer underneath. I blinked and brushed fingertips over my eyes. I had been up late reading—was this just fatigue from being up too late reading now making me see things?

  Master Julian cowered even lower and stammered out a scattered denial, but even from where I sat, I could see everyone drawing away from him. He was tainted goods. And I could think of nothing to do to support the poor man. He had done wrong—he had broken the law. I shuddered to even think what his punishment might be.

  “King Enric’s words sliced through the air, cutting as arrows in flight. “Either you think your king is wrong—that you are more knowledgeable than your king. Or you are a liar. Now which is it?”

  “I…it’s not that…it’s just…” The man looked up and around as if searching for friends. He folded and refolded his fine, map scarf in his hands. His heavy face was pulled into lines and his skin had paled to the color of parchment.

  “Enough! A man who cannot protest his innocence is obviously not without guilt. You know that forbidden land is held in high regard by the traitors who would see your king fallen. Yet you willingly stepped foot there. It sorrows me to see my love for my people turned against me.” King Enric turned away and flicked one hand. “Guards, do your duty.”

  Master Julian stilled. The Iron Guards stepped forward, their metal armor creaking and whatever internal mechanisms operated whined. They seized the man by the shoulders and started to drag him away.

  “Mercy,” Master Julian begged, half sobbing the word.

  My stomach knotted and the taste of bile rose to my mouth. “Come on,” I muttered to Vic. “We must do something.”

  “What? Are you mad?” Vic grabbed my arm and held me in place. “You will end with the Iron Guards dragging you away as well. Do you want to be dead?”

  My heart was pounding, but I could not just sit still. I might not think much of Master Julian, but he deserved better than to be hauled away like that. Shaking off Vic’s hold, I stood. No sooner had I done so than a shrill scream split the air. The sound was awful—the worst I had ever heard. The chamber fell silent again.

  Vic tugged on my arm, pulling me back into my seat. “Sit down. Sit down, you fool, or the Iron Guards will haul you away next.

  I kept shaking my head. “What…what did they do to him?”

  Vic frowned and he pushed out a breath. “You know the law—it’s death to go near Mount Hammal.”

  Hands bunched into fists, I stared at the doorway Master Julian had been dragged through. “Death for breaking a ridiculous law—a law no one even understands. It’s not as if the man sold weapons to our enemies. He was supposed to just have been seen in the wrong place. This is unbelievable.” I looked down at my hands, forced my fingers to open and pressed them against my thighs.

  I should have done more—but what more could I have done? Vic was right. Anyone who spoke up for Master Julian would have been killed as well. Murdered.

  The clanking of the Iron Guard echoed again as they returned. Dark, dripping blood stained their armor.

  Whispers started to fill the room. I glanced around, seeing worry in the eyes of man, and fear. This day seemed like a horrible nightmare from which I could not wake. But the king’s Iron Guard left us powerless—useless.

  “I can’t stay here.” I stood and glanced down at Vic.

  He raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Bower, you need a sterner stomach.”

  “And when did you become so callous? That wasn’t a trial. It wasn’t even an execution. It was—”

  “Hold your words, Bower.” Vic straightened and glanced around, suddenly worried. “You seemed determined to put yourself before the king next, and I
have no wish to be anywhere near you if you do. Stick to your books if you must, but do not criticize the king.” His face blanked for a moment, and for an instant the room fell silent. Another wave of dizziness swept over me. Swaying, I closed my eyes.

  When I opened them gain, Vic was smiling. The normal conversation of the chamber rose up around us, and Vic leaned back in his seat. “I don’t even know why you are upset. It’s only prison for Master Julian. He’ll get his sons to pay a fine to the crown or something.”

  “What?”

  Around us, the arguments and conversations of the court continued. Looking down to the main floor, the Iron Guard was gone—but I had not heard them leave. The king was gone as well. It was almost as if nothing had happened.

  Something isn’t right here.

  Uneasy now, I searched the crowd to see if others shared my uneasy sense. My skin pricked and a shiver slid down my back. The crowd was mostly older men. Even the newer nobles, with their garish clothes and outrageous hats, looked to be middle-aged and complacent. That was why so few would ever listen to me—I was too young to know as much as they did, or so they’d told me on a regular basis.

  But Master Julian was dead. Wasn’t he?

  A slight hint of nervousness hovered in the air—and it seemed to me that even my memories of this morning were faded. Or distorted.

  Was Vic right? Had the Iron Guard simply dragged Master Julian off to jail? Was that scream simply a protest and not a death cry? Who was I to know? And yet…that voice, that horrible cry, echoed in my mind.

  Knees buckling, I sat down with a thump. “I thought I heard them kill him.”

  “King Enric? The king is a fair and just man.” For some reason, the words sounded flat, as if Vic had said them so many times they no longer meant anything. He put a hand on my shoulder. “Maybe it’s all that literature you read.”

  I knew what he meant. Those fanciful legends of heroes and dragons and sorcerers had tainted my mind. The king thought those stories evil— something to be used by dangerous, seditious lunatics to corrupt the city.