Dragons of Kings (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 2) Page 5

  Was it just me or had I heard a slight hitch in her voice when she had said that last part?

  Looking up again, Saffron balled her fist at her side. “But now the time has come when I must ask more from you. I have traveled into the human world and discovered a danger that threatens the den.”

  A few dragons hissed, and some reared up, beating their wings. I wondered if that was dismay or an offer to do battle.

  Saffron raised her voice so she might be better heard. “The Middle Kingdom of Torvald is ruled by an evil sorcerer, a man called Enric Maddox, who is blood kin to me. But he is not content with what power he has. He wants more. He will never be satisfied until the entire world bows to him—and all threats are gone. Meaning he seeks to destroy all dragons—and create only the memory of dragons as enemies.”

  More hisses answered these words, and this time I could feel the anger behind those sounds. These dragons weren’t happy.

  Saffron’s shoulders tensed. She lifted her chin and called out, “Enric sent his spies here, to this very island. They now carry word back to Enric that dragons live here. Even worse, these spies killed the Hermit who lived next to us and in the shadow of Den Mountain for so many years. Enric will stop at nothing in his quest to control the world. But I cannot allow this to happen. Enric seeks my death, too, or control of me. And so I’m asking you to fly with me, for I cannot fight without your help.”

  She let out a gasp, as if this speech had taken too much out of her.

  A moment of silence answered, and then the cavern erupted into whistles and hisses from the assembled dragons. Even though I couldn’t understand what they were saying, from the way they were snapping at each other and swiveled their long, scaled necks to hiss, it was obviously an argument, with some wanting to help Saffron and others spitting out fire in clear rebukes.

  A heavy thud from Zenema as she slapped her tail against the cavern floor had every dragon turning to look at her. The air now smelled of smoke, and I tried not to cough.

  Zenema’s stare swept the room. She looked from Saffron to gaze at me and my insides quivered under that hard, swirling gaze, as if Zenema was seeking something from within me.

  At last Zenema turned away from me, and I resisted the urge to wipe the sweat from my face. Saffron stood even straighter as Zenema asked, Why would humans seek to be friends with dragons again? Why should we not stay out here in our dens? What if this generation of humans are as frightened of us as the island villagers? What do you answer, Saffron, to the questions put forth by so many dragons?

  Saffron turned and pointed at me. “The world changes because of him.”

  Every dragon’s gaze turned to me. My throat tightened and my heart seemed to almost jump from my chest. I stood still, heart hammering and wondering why Saffron had said that.

  She came over to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “Bower is the rightful King of Torvald. Through him the great bloodlines of Flamma and Torvald have come together, and only he can bring peace to the Middle Kingdom…to all kingdoms. He is the bridge between the dragon and human worlds. You all can sense in him that he is a true dragon-friend. You know this or you would not have allowed him to live as he has within Den Mountain. If we see Bower restored to the throne, we not only save those who now live under a terrible rule and terrible lies, but we also will see dragons restored to their rightful place in the sky—so that dragons may live wherever they wish and need not run from this Enric like sheep.”

  I’m still not even certain I want to be king.

  The thought left my face hot and I shuffled my boots in the sand. Under the gaze of every dragon in the cavern, I felt more like a fraud. I was no warrior-king, riding at the head of dragons and battling a dark sorcerer for a throne. My skills were better used with me being the one who chronicled great deeds.

  A sound like the hiss of steam escaping a kettle started and grew louder until my ears ached. Then Ysix rose up, spread her wings and gave a roar that silenced all the dragons.

  I glanced at Saffron and saw her freckles standing out as her face paled.

  Looking up into Ysix’s swirling, silver eyes, I thought she had judged me unworthy and was going to eat me.

  But Zenema’s voice echoed in my mind. Bower of Torvald, den-mother Ysix challenges you, asking if you have the strength to be the Dragon King. Do we wait until another comes along who is braver? Can you lead as a king must? What do you answer?

  Her words cut through me, punching into my gut like a fist. What could I say? Ysix was right. She had seen into my thoughts and knew I was more of a scholar. I had been raised with books, not with battles. Oh, yes, I’d had a sword in my hand, as did all nobles. But my parents had worked hard to hide my real heritage—and they had done such a good job that I hadn’t even known I was supposed to rule the Middle Kingdom.

  Glancing at Saffron, I wanted her to tell the dragons to follow her—not me. She was a leader. She could fight. She had magic, even. I had…I didn’t know what I had.

  Slowly, Saffron nodded and mouthed the words to me, I believe in you.

  Well, it seemed I had Saffron. Saffron who believed, who trusted, and who was now staring at me with worry tightening her expression. She no longer looked like the half-wild girl I had met in the woods, but instead seemed a young woman teetering between hope I would do the right thing and despair that I might not.

  How could I betray her trust?

  Pulling in a breath, I faced Ysix. My throat seemed dry, but I knew I needed to prove there was more to me than a skinny youth who’d barely been tested. “I thought…I once lived only for the stories within the pages of old books. I read about dragons—and did not think them real. I wished…I wished for more. And I found that with Saffron. I have faced danger and battles, but I have not enjoyed them. But I would not—cannot—go back to my old life. You—all of you—have shown me a better world. A world with dragons. A world where dragons and humans join to be so much more together.”

  Ysix huffed out a breath. I held my own breath and tried not to choke or cough or wave away the smoke in front of my face.

  Turning from Ysix, I spoke to all the dragons. “I am not one of the heroes of old. I do not come here seeking the heads of my enemies. It is true. I would prefer to talk to someone to reach a resolution. But I do come to you with a passion and a love for dragons and the past that has been with me ever since I first could look at the sky or stare at an old drawing of a dragon. I may not be the great king you were hoping for, but I will be one who will try every day to be better and to understand more how humans and dragons can live together. I wish for there to be peace between our species, and I am willing to fight for that. I will fight for those who need my help, and for the Dragon Riders to return to the skies!”

  Glancing at Saffron, I hoped she thought I had done well. Her mouth curved in a small smile and she gave me what seemed an encouraging nod.

  The flap of beating wings and hisses answered me as the dragons argued over what to do with me and my words.

  Ysix raised her voice once again above the tumult and this time her voice echoed in my mind. Bower of Torvald, words come easy to humans so let your actions say more. You are challenged to a test that will prove if you can do more than try.

  Glancing around, what would Ysix would have me do? Wrestle a Grim-bear? Battle one of Enric’s undefeatable Iron Guard? What feat would make a dragon trust a human?

  Saffron pushed an elbow into my side. I glanced at her. She shook her head and glared at me, trying to say something without saying it, but I had no idea what she wanted. Instead, I looked at Ysix and told her, “I accept your challenge.”

  What else could I say? If we did not have the help of the dragons, we were as good as dead. Without them, Enric’s men or his spies or his assassins would find us and we’d be done. Or I would be. I knew Enric wanted Saffron for her power—but Enric had no use for someone who had a better claim to the throne of Torvald.

  Ysix glanced once at Zenema. The other dragons f
ell silent, and then Ysix’s thoughts echoed in my mind. Bower must prove he has the blood of the true Dragon King in his. Bower must show he can mend the distrust between human and dragon. Go to the villagers of this island and make those humans into dragon-friends. Do this and Ysix herself and her brood will fly for you.

  5

  A Dragon’s Peace

  I kept trying to explain to Bower just what he was facing. “One of the things you have to understand is that the villagers really don’t like dragons.”

  He nodded and then shrugged as if he was only half-listening, but he said, “I know, I know. The people in Torvald are the same. Those who ever dare to mention dragons do so only to tell stories of how dragons are monsters from nightmares. But I know what to do. People just need to see what dragons are really like. They just need to meet them.”

  Rolling my eyes, I wanted to punch Bower. He was underestimating how difficult this challenge was going to be. The villagers had already met dragons and still didn’t like them.

  We had left Den Mountain at once. Glancing back, I could see the visiting dragons swirling around the warm updrafts that circled Den Mountain. It had taken most of the day to reach the nearest village, and we were almost there. Despite Bower’s insistence that this was something he could do alone, I’d told him I was going with him.

  It was, after all, partly my quest and it had been my request to have the help of the dragons. The way I figured it, everything depended upon Bower, and if the villagers turned nasty, he would need someone who could fight at his side. Zenema had agreed with me. Jaydra had also insisted she was coming with us. That had kicked up another argument with the dragons, but Zenema simply said Bower needed to have a dragon with him if his task was to convince the villagers that dragons could be their friends.

  It’s not that Jaydra does not like villagers, Jaydra mused, her thoughts reaching mine. Jaydra just does not like arrows or their long spears.

  I glanced up to where Jaydra soared overhead. Maybe they threw those at you because you ate one of their forest pigs last week.

  Jaydra gave a loud snort of displeasure that carried to me.

  Travelling with a dragon usually had its benefits in that you got to fly on its back, but Bower had insisted we arrive on foot. He was right in that dragons were big—and also a dragon flying low over a village usually sent every villager running. So Jaydra had to stay high above the clouds or down on the ground and out of sight—at least for the moment.

  Glancing at me, Bower said, “You are going to let me try to do this my own way, aren’t you?”

  “I know you have to prove yourself, but I don’t think you realize just how many generations of bad blood there are between the islanders and dragons. The villagers try to steal dragon eggs, and the dragons in turn steal livestock from the villagers. Mostly, the villagers keep to themselves these days, but there are stories the dragons tell of wars even between dragons and villagers!”

  “And the villagers probably have their own sagas as well about what happened when dragons first showed up, or when villagers came to these islands.” He huffed out a breath and strode ahead of me. I was stunned by this reaction, and felt vaguely ashamed, like I was being a traitor to my own kind—to dragons.

  Hurrying to catch up to him, I told him, “Bower, the villagers even set fire to the forest once. Who does that?”

  Bower glanced at me, his face pinched with worry. “I understand. I really do. I grew up in Torvald, where even talking like we are now would have you imprisoned—or killed. I know how horrible some people can be, but that doesn’t mean you give up on everyone.”

  I suddenly blushed, remembering how Bower had been tortured at the hands of the king. And I had been the one who had dragged Bower back to his city when really he was trying to escape from it and the king—from someone who had proved he really was terrible.

  “I’m sorry.” I kicked at a rock in the path. “I just wish you had suggested Ysix pick a different challenge.”

  He hunched a shoulder. “Ysix was right! I do have to prove myself. If I can’t negotiate a peace between dragons and humans here, how am I going to do this anywhere else? This is important. And it’s not just…well, I’ve give up a lot. My home. My friends. Even my books. I have to know that I really can do what everyone seems to think I should be able to do.”

  Pushing a long-leafed palm from our path, I told him, “But, Bower, maybe you just need more training first?”

  He gave a short laugh. “In a way, I have been training for this for a long time. I was a scholar before I had to leave Torvald. I read every book I could, a lot of them old ones, and most of them were ones the king didn’t want anyone reading. I read the Strategicus, The Manuals of Mordecai, which noted ways of dealing with dragons and how to fight beside dragons and a whole lot more. If I can apply even a little of that learning, I might be able to do this.”

  Bower stopped and glanced at me. For a moment, he looked taller and more confident than I had ever seen him. Sunlight streaked his shaggy brown hair and his dark eyes seemed suddenly far more knowing.

  Maybe he has the blood of the true kings in him after all.

  From above, Jaydra’s thoughts came to me. Just so long as Bower can get villagers to stop firing arrows at Jaydra.

  I led the way down to a clearing just in front of a river. On the opposite side of the wide, slow flowing river, huts stood on stilts. Wind chimes of shells from the sea and carved wood beads rattled cheerfully. The villagers seemed busy with their day, going in and out of the big, wooden huts with their peaked roofs, mending fishing nets, or just sitting and talking to each other.

  Someone noticed us, for a horn sounded a short blast. Everyone in the village seemed to stop what they were doing, and a boy pointed at us.

  Bower let out a breath and said, “Well…here’s to at least trying.” Stepping forward, he walked toward a planked, wooden bridge that crossed the river at a narrow spot.

  I put my hand on my knife hilt at my belt and followed him.

  The bridge, while simple, had posts at either end that had been carved into fantastical versions of dragons. I wasn’t sure whether to be impressed or insulted by the way they had depicted my family as being all teeth and wings and claws.

  As soon as we stepped off the shaky bridge, a thin man with a beard, a tunic of cloth, leggings and boots stepped in front of us. He lowered a long spear at Bower and called out, “Halt.”

  Bower held up his empty hands. I was wishing now that I had a bow and that Bower had his sword. We stopped. The villagers all stared at us with wary eyes, and behind us the river babbled along. I didn’t like that we had our backs to the river, but if we needed to run, we could get across the river fast enough that Jaydra could swoop down and protect us.

  Bower wasn’t thinking about any of that. He smiled and said, “We come with a message of peace.”

  The man with the spear stared past Bower and at me, his eyes widening. “The dragon-girl? You brought the dragon-girl with you?” He glanced at Bower again, a frown pulling his sandy eyebrows tight. The spear shifted to aim more at me.

  “Saffron. Her name is Saffron, and my name is Bower.” Bower stepped between me and the spear—not a wise move. I glanced around. A crowd was beginning to assemble. Some of the villagers carried bows notched with arrows, the children had rocks in their slings, and several of the men hefted more long spears. They did not look welcoming. No one was smiling.

  “Bower?” The man stumbled over Bower’s name. It was not one common to the Western Isles. He nodded at me. “Our shaman will have to decide what to do with her now you’ve rescued her from the dragons.”

  “Rescued?” Bower’s eyebrows shot up. “You think the dragons were holding her captive? No, that’s not it at all.”

  From the crowd, an old woman stepped forward and called, “What is this? What is happening?” She pushed through the other villagers, hobbling forward with the aid of a tall staff. Shells and wooden beads decorated her long tunic, which w
as white and fringed. More shells were woven into her graying hair, and bones rattled as she walked. Long, gray hair framed a brown, wrinkled face and gray eyes stared at us with a measuring look.

  She had to be the shaman.

  The man with the spear stepped back and said, “Grandmother, it is the dragon-girl and a dragon-boy come to us. He speaks of peace.”

  The old woman stepped closer, the dried skulls of birds and even a few teeth, clattering as she moved. She squinted at each of us in turn, and narrowed her eyes. Her nose wrinkled. “Are you with the others?”

  “What others?” Bower asked.

  I nudged Bower with my elbow and shook my head. I wasn’t sure if the others were the king’s men who had killed the Hermit or maybe someone even more dangerous.

  Bower glanced at me, frowned as if he didn’t understand what I was trying to tell him, and then faced the old woman again. “I am an emissary from the dragons of Den Mountain and I come with their promise of peace.”

  The shaman gave a sharp laugh. “Peace from a dragon? What trickery is this? Seize them!” The shaman stepped back and waved for the four men with spears to come forward.

  I pulled out my knife, and Jaydra roared and fell from the sky, landing in the river with a huge splash. The villagers all fell back and some screamed. Jaydra raised her neck and head high over the bridge and over us. With one smash of her tail, she could destroy the bridge and then she could lay waste to this small village.

  A cry went up at once, with the villagers shouting or screaming. The four guards with spears moved away from us to stand before their shaman, raising their weapons in an obviously defensive move. Children fled, women gathered them up and headed into the jungle as if to hide.

  “Wait!” Bower shouted, raising his hands. “Jaydra means you no harm, she is only here to protect myself and Saffron,” He moved to stand almost directly underneath Jaydra’s jaws.