Pariah of Dragons

by Cordelia Castel

  “It’s at the palace with the rest of my things.”

  Her head drooped. “Oh.”

  “I can whistle if you like.”

  She lay flat on her belly. “Go on.”

  I whistled a tune I used to play for Chrysus whenever he would appear in my room. It was a lullaby about a baby rocking on a tree top. My cousin would transform my room into a forest and act out the baby’s adventure, making himself float through the air onto my lap. It was fun the first couple of times, but I would often need Aunt Cendrilla to come and rescue me from his persistent demands to repeat the lullaby.

  Fyrian’s eyelids drooped, and she exhaled a sulfur-scented sigh.

  “Are you falling asleep?” I asked.

  “No… just relaxing,” she murmured. “You should carve a pipe and play it for me.”

  I continued whistling. “Maybe someone can lend me theirs.”

  “Even better.” Her eyes shut.

  Moments later, our bond went quiet, and I stopped whistling. Stafford’s stomach rumbled and he patted his belly. “Breakfast time, I think.”

  “Yes,” I whispered. “See you, Fyri.”

  She let out two perfectly formed smoke rings.

  By the time we returned to the mess hall, the place was packed with alert warriors, sitting around circular tables over breakfast. The rich, spicy scent of cooked meat and eggs hung in the air, making my mouth water. Master Torreo scowled in the middle of the griddle station, a barrier between the fighting chefs who busied themselves at his sides.

  “What are you getting?” I asked.

  I glanced to the right where Eyepatch stood between a tureen of porridge and a giant bowl of chopped fruit. “A bit of both, I think.”

  After getting half a plate of eggs and onions from the griddle, I went to get the fruit from Eyepatch.

  “Odd combination this morning,” he said.

  “I had chicory.”

  He gave me a knowing nod. “The way my nephew makes it gets the appetite going.”

  I sat a seat away from Rufus, who raised his head. “Have you spoken to my brother?”

  “Not yet,” I whispered.

  “We bumped into Albens,” said Stafford. “He told us all about your brother’s recovery. Congratulations.”

  Rufus gave him a weak smile, and I dipped my head and stuffed forkfuls of omelet into my mouth. Niger and I hadn’t done anything that would get him executed, but I appreciated Rufus worried for his brother.

  “You’re late.” Roseate stood beside our table with her hands on her hips.

  “For what?”

  “I’m taking you to Master Solum’s to work the fields.”

  I gave her a blank look.

  “Locust damage. Remember?”

  I speared a piece of melon and popped it into my mouth. Just before the plague, Roseate had taken us close to the dwellings of the black dragons, where Master Jesper had introduced us to the largomorphus rex. That lecture had been derailed by witches recognizing the troll from the atrocities it had committed under orders by the Snow Queen. Since then, the plague, the loyalty elixir, and the trials had taken up all our time.

  She spun on her heel. “I’m going without you.”

  “Wait,” I said.

  She glared over her shoulder. “What?”

  “None of the other cadets are going yet. Can you give us a bit more time?”

  “Very well.” She stuck her nose in the air. “But if you’re not there in ten minutes, I’m leaving.”

  Rufus harrumphed. “Classes do not start until eight. We have plenty of time.”

  Angry, red blotches appeared on Roseate’s face, which twisted with indignation, then she stormed out of the mess hall.

  “All that talk of Asproceros must dredge up memories of her dead betrothed,” I murmured.

  “Paniscus was betrothed to four witches.” Rufus took a bite of his warthog steak. “They all found out about his treachery and teamed up to curse him. That is why he slept with his dragon.”

  A mouthful of spicy omelet burned a path down my throat, and I grabbed my mug of ale and swallowed several gulps. “Really?”

  He raised a shoulder. “Quarter-ogres get their pick of witches.”

  I gave Stafford a kick under the table and raised my brows. There was no reason why he needed to be skittish around Evolene. His cheeks turned pink, and he shoveled a huge chunk of omelet into his mouth.

  After eating, we took the Fornax Flying Float to a cornfield decimated by locusts. Brown stalks stood leafless like emaciated saplings, swaying in the breeze. Only a few plants of corn with purple kernels were left intact.

  Master Solum stood on a wooden trunk shaped like a podium, his dark features grim. “Until the attack of the locusts, Mount Fornax was self-sufficient for corn and even used its excesses to produce a strong spirit for sale in the Capital Market.”

  Someone raised their hands. “What about that purple corn?”

  “The locusts didn’t seem to like it, so we can assume it’s resistant.”

  “Will you give it to the brewers?”

  He shook his head. “We will harvest the seeds, prepare the soil and replant. Hopefully, it produces the same quality alcohol.”

  I made a mental note to write to Father and ask if Mount Bluebeard grew purple corn. The agricultural witches had most probably worked hard to repair all the damage caused by King Magnar’s locusts, but it didn’t hurt to share useful information.

  Master Solum spread his arms wide. “Today, we will remove the stalks and prepare the land for planting sweet peas.”

  “What about the corn?” someone asked.

  “Our crops are rotated, so we will plant that somewhere else.”

  We all set to work, pulling out stalks of corn and piling them on the side of the field. Even the witches got to do a bit of manual work, as Master Solum said it was good for a warrior to become in tune with the earth instead of relying on magic.

  Partway through the class, the riders broke out into cheers. I turned to find Muti stepping out of a Fornax Flying Float with a grin.

  Master Solum beamed. “Congratulations on a speedy recovery, Cadet Pavo. Are you well enough to work with the others?”

  He flexed his biceps. “I am stronger than ever. If I catch the rogue who attacked me from behind, he will be the one who needs a healer!”

  The other cadets cheered, and I smiled. It was good to see that my new friend had recovered from the attack.

  “Question him,” said Fyrian.

  We continued pulling out stalks, and I moved closer to the rider cadets. “Muti, did you see who did it?”

  He shook his head, yanked out two stalks, and threw them over his shoulder. “The wretch crept out of the shadows and attacked from behind like a coward.”

  “Could it have been a dragon?”

  The riders straightened, all giving me odd looks. Muti pulled on one of his beard braids. “Why would you ask that?”

  “I have a theory. Everyone who got attacked from behind did something that a dragon would perceive as bad. Niger’s brother took his dragon to the Cursed Sea, where he got bitten by a sea serpent.”

  “Yes…” said Muti.

  “One of the grooms locked a dragon into solitary confinement for his meals.”

  He wrapped his beard braid around his finger. “Right…”

  “And you punched Rubens the rapier red.”

  “In self-defense,” said Muti.

  His dark-haired friend shook his head. “You think there is a dragon avenger, sneaking about and righting wrongs?”

  I rolled my eyes. “Now you’re making it sound like something out of a scroll.”

  “It is Asproceros,” said Muti. “He stole my lucky coin.”

  “Now you believe me when I said I did not take it,” snarled Gobi.

  Master Solum cleared his throat. “I’m all for talking to make the work go faster, but you boys need to pick up your pace.”

  “Sorry, sir.” I pulled a stalk out b
y the roots and set it aside.

  “Besides,” said Master Solum. “Dragons who attack warriors or civilians without due cause are punished. Rubens was the subject of a Council of Dragons meeting. He is hereby suspended from working with cadets until he changes his attitude.”

  Muti nodded. “As long as he got what he deserved.”

  I dipped my head. What about flying around with Captain Caiman? Someone needed to tell the Council that Rubens had already flouted their ruling.

  “That was before the meeting,” said Fyrian. “He’s not allowed to attend classes anymore.”

  We continued clearing the field, debating on who was causing the spate of thefts and attacks. Nobody believed in my theory that a dragon might be causing all the chaos in Mount Fornax, and when I brought up the wild dragon, a few of the tamers laughed and repeated Master Fosco’s explanation of the double layer of runes preventing teleportation to and from the cage.

  Master Solum shook his head. “The wild dragon will be assessed in the next Council of Dragons meeting. If he’s willing to become a citizen of Mount Fornax, he will submit himself for the rehabilitation scheme.”

  “Is that anything like the Dragon Master Academy?” I asked.

  “Very much so, except backed by security and magic.” He surveyed the empty field. “Well done, cadets. The field is ready for the next stage. Everyone, stand back.”

  We all walked to the edges of the field as two black dragons flew down. One of them was Pruna Splendor, the first dragon to eat a largomorphus rex, and the first dragon to have fallen to the plague. The other was one of the dragons whose dwellings I had mucked out as my punishment for supposedly using dark fairy magic during my duel with King Magnar. She had been too depressed over the situation with the stolen dragon eggs to make conversation.

  They both landed on opposite corners of the field and stamped a foreleg. The ground beneath us rippled, and the soil turned itself over and formed planting lines.

  Everybody, including me, gasped. “I didn’t know black dragons were so precise.”

  “They can do anything with earth,” Fyrian replied.

  “Ah!” Master Solum clapped his hands together. “And here’s the dung.”

  Byrrus approached from behind, pulling a giant wagon of steaming dragon dung. Beside him walked King Magnar.

  I blinked. “Why isn’t he riding on Byrrus’ back?”

  “Maybe he doesn’t want to be associated with a dung dragon.”

  “You were a dung dragon once.”

  “That’s because I was helping you out.”

  I smiled. “Thanks. It looks like Byrrus might be warming to his new bondmate.”

  She sniffed. “They’re welcome to each other!”

  Some of the cadets snickered at King Magnar, and others called him names. I stared at a spot in the middle of the field. The sooner Evolene and Master Jesper worked out the spriggan poison, the sooner her new guardian could regain his throne and leave Mount Fornax.

  Master Solum clapped his hands together. “None of that mockery, please. We’re all spreading dung on the fields.”

  He stepped down from his podium and flipped a lid, revealing dozens of shovels. The entire class groaned, and each cadet trudged over to take a tool. I grabbed mine and strode to the wagon. Byruss tipped it over, creating a giant mound of dung. Then he flew away, presumably to fetch another full wagon.

  An irritating blond figure sidled up to me. “Cadet Bluford, may we speak?”

  “No.” I stuck my shovel in the dung and scooped out a huge, steaming heap.

  “I want to thank you for what you did. No one has ever committed such an act of selflessness—”

  “Don’t act as if I did it for you.” I dropped the dung at his feet.

  He stared down at his dirty boots, not saying anything for a while. I exhaled a breath of relief and turned back to the dung pile. Maybe he would get bored of trying to speak to me and go away.

  “Despite everything,” he said in a small voice. “I still hold you in high esteem.”

  “That’s why you tried to enslave me, my friends, and everyone else in Mount Fornax. Well, there’s someone going around hurting people who have committed wrongs against dragons. If I were you, I wouldn’t venture far from Byrrus or your sisters. You’re going to need all the protection you can get!”

  He stepped back, face pale, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I… I thank you for the warning.”

  I rolled my eyes. Why did he twist everything I said and did into a personal favor?

  Chapter 14

  Master Solum kept us working all day and had even arranged for servers to fly in with a yeoman’s lunch of granite cheese, smoked buffalo, melon tomatoes, and pickled melon rinds presented in the kind of bread rolls they served at breakfast. King Magnar worked in silence, shoveling dung over the field and casting me glances when he thought I wasn’t looking. Hopefully, the wretch would heed my warning and get his sisters to guard his back and fortify his home. The last thing Mount Fornax needed was a diplomatic incident.

  Throughout the journey back to the mountain, Rufus kept casting me meaningful glances. I still hadn’t broken things off with Niger, and he wanted me to do it tonight. My heart felt heavier than my sore limbs. It wasn’t fair that he was born a half-ogre, and I was born a quarter, but I couldn’t let someone I cared about get hurt.

  The mess hall was packed with warriors gathered around two giant fondue pots. At the end of one line stood skewers of meat as long as halberds. Each person took a portion and dipped it into whichever of the bubbling pots they preferred. Eye-wateringly spicy, black smoke wafted out of the more popular pot, and the other pot emitted a milder, red smoke.

  Gobi clapped his hands together. “Molten meat!”

  “Oh,” cried Stafford. “We never had anything like that in the orphanage.”

  The pair ran off to join the line for the long skewers, and I headed to the right of the room toward Eyepatch’s station. Rufus stuck at my side, glaring at me from the corner of his eye.

  I bristled. “Don’t you usually go for the more ogreish meals?”

  He flicked his head at the far right corner of the room. “Niger is here.”

  I turned around and scowled. “What? You want me to tell him now, in the middle of the mess hall?”

  “Make arrangements to speak to him alone.”

  “Fine.” I stormed over to where Eyepatch stood at his usual station.

  The older male grinned. “Can I interest you in antelope stew and dumplings?”

  “Yes, please. Can I have a large portion today?”

  He chuckled. “There’s nothing like a bit of farm work to whet a boy’s appetite!”

  Rufus grunted.

  I suppressed a scowl. “Actually, I think it was all that chicory I drank early this morning. It was very good.”

  “I will pass on your compliments!” He handed me a bowl of stew and placed a fat, golden dumpling on top.

  “Thank you.” Without waiting for Rufus, I walked to our usual table and sat a seat away from Niger.

  He frowned, glancing from me to the empty seat. “Is anything the matter?”

  “Your brother,” I said through clenched teeth. “He’s being annoying.”

  “What did he say?”

  “Later.”

  The corner of his mouth curled into a smile. “Are you free to practice a few goals?”

  Any irritation remaining from Rufus melted. “Tonight?”

  He nodded.

  “All right.” At least we’d get to break up in private without Rufus looming close.

  Rufus pulled out the seat between us, grunted a greeting, and sat. Jagged shards of irritation prickled at my skin. I’d already agreed to break things off with Niger, what more did he want? I glared into the side of his face, and he set his jaw, looking straight ahead.

  “Brother?” said Niger.

  “It is nothing,” replied Rufus.

  I couldn’t even lean around and share a meani
ngful look with Niger, so I turned my glare into my bowl of stew and smashed up my dumpling.

  “You should not waste food,” said Rufus. “A family of destitute humans in Steppe would be grateful to share that bowl of stew.”

  “Who said I wasn’t going to eat it?” I scooped up a bit of dumpling with some stew and stuffed it into my mouth. If I wasn’t so vexed about his interfering, I would have hummed with appreciation at the tender chunks of meat, flavorful gravy, and spiced vegetables. This had to be one of Eyepatch’s most delicious stews yet.

  Stafford and Gobi jogged back, each holding a platter of steaming chunks of meat that melted into a thick sauce and a side plate of flatbread.

  “You are missing out.” Gobi sat opposite Rufus and set down his feast. “This is the last batch of peccary for the season!”

  I smirked. “But you can get antelope any time of the year.”

  Rufus’ scowl deepened, and his gaze fixed on Gobi’s platter of meat.

  Niger clapped his brother on the back. “That was the most succulent peccary I ever tasted. Why did you choose the stew? Cobbs serves that all the time.”

  “Why indeed?” I muttered.

  Stafford glanced up. “What was that?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Rufus isn’t so bad,” said Fyrian. “He’s just worried about his brother’s safety.”

  My shoulders slumped. “I know… He’s going about it in the most aggravating way possible.”

  “You didn’t complain about him when he dragged you out of the duel before Magnar’s armor exploded.”

  Fyrian was right. It was hypocritical of me to accept that aspect of his personality when it benefitted me. While Niger was more prone to jump into any adventure regardless of danger, Rufus stayed behind to take care of Gobi, who was too young to come along. I made a mental note to get Rufus alone and apologize for my attitude. If one of the quadruplets got himself involved with someone I deemed dangerous, I’d intervene just as vehemently.

  After dinner, Niger and I flew separately to the Drogott Arena. The sun dipped low behind the hills, coloring the sky in a haze of orange. It reflected on the sandstone tiers of the arena and made the giant goalposts gleam. I sighed. Would he kick me off the team after I broke up with him?