The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 1

by James E. Wisher

  Lord Black glanced over at Rondo. “That’s all?”

  “Yes, my lord. I never spoke to or even got close to the child. Forgive me, but I assumed you’d be more interested in the tower.”

  “The tower interests me very much.” They continued down a long hallway. Servants quickly scurried to the other side, out of their path. “But if it is guarded by an elder black dragon, we will be unable to access it without the girl. Your instincts were correct about that. That girl is the key to everything, Rondo, and you will bring her to me.”

  “Yes, my lord, but I don’t know where she is.”

  “There’s only one place someone with her gift could be going, the Bardic College. I have an agent there. When the time comes you will work together to kidnap the girl.”

  Rondo knew about the college of course, everyone did, but he really didn’t understand how the bards’ special magic worked. Sneaking a little girl out from under the noses of such individuals wouldn’t be easy.

  “If we know where she’s going, perhaps it would be easier to intercept her on the way,” Rondo dared suggest.

  “Can it be done?”

  “I’ll need to hire more mercenaries. An Alteran Ranger is no easy target. But even if they escape, we still know where they’re going. I believe it would be worth the effort.”

  Lord Black stopped in front of a closed door. “Agreed. Wait here.”

  He opened the door and Rondo caught a glimpse of a richly appointed room. Three men were inside waiting, though he couldn’t see more than a hint of boots and dark tunics.

  Lord Black entered, murmured something to his guests, and opened a drawer in a dark wooden desk. He removed a pouch and brought it out to Rondo. It was heavy and jingled in his hands. “This should suffice to secure whatever help you require. I look forward to hearing of your success. Secrecy is of the utmost importance. Your discretion is vital.”

  The crimson gem flashed and a crushing force gripped Rondo’s heart.

  “Am I clear?”

  “Perfectly, Lord Black,” Rondo gasped.

  “Splendid.”

  The pressure vanished and the office door closed in Rondo’s face. He opened the pouch and looked inside. It was full to the top with gold scales. He wouldn’t have to settle for a handful of grubby mercenaries this time. This time the ranger would fall. Rondo would prove his value to his new master.

  Leonidas Black closed his office door and put sad little Rondo Tegan out of his mind. Maybe he would succeed in bringing the dragon bard back and maybe he wouldn’t. Leonidas would have bet on the latter were he a gambling man. Either way he had far too much to do now. Should his newest servant fail, he had plenty of more competent people ready to step in and do the job properly.

  What he couldn’t believe was that somehow the fool had stumbled on the final two pieces of the puzzle by sheer luck. To think that after all these centuries someone capable of commanding dragons had appeared again. It felt to Leonidas that the gods must truly intend for him to succeed in his quest. Without the girl, nothing else mattered.

  He sank into the soft leather of his chair and looked across his empty desk at the three individuals gathered before him. On the left was Korbin Breaker, a brutal former pit fighter who rose through the ranks to become leader of the Chained Order, the biggest network of slavers in the world. He was not a man to be trifled with, even by someone as powerful as Leonidas.

  In the center sat Alvin Tor, a wiry little bald man whose entire body was covered with scale tattoos. He led the Scaled Society, a small group of dragon worshipers with more devotion than brains. And finally, on the right, Leonidas’s second, the beautiful Domina Dark, an alchemist of supreme skill. She’d been with Leonidas since almost the beginning.

  “Lady and gentlemen,” Leonidas began. “I trust matters are progressing and our timeline remains on schedule.”

  “I’ve got two hundred of my best people ready and willing to go,” Korbin said. “Along with enough manacles for everyone and then some.”

  “My agent recently made contact with a sympathetic person in the right position. I’m confident he will convince them to do what we need.”

  “I’ve prepared five hundred pounds of sleep dust,” Domina said. “Enough to put an entire city to sleep for half a day.”

  “Excellent,” Leonidas said. “The final airship will be ready to take off in three weeks. Shall we plan to strike in one month on the night of the new moon?”

  Korbin nodded. Alvin nodded. Domina offered a twisted smile.

  “Then let it be so.” Leonidas stood. “In one month the second tower will be mine.”

  Korbin and Alvin filed out of the room. Both men would do what he needed, not because of any allegiance to him, but because it was in their interest to do so. That assured him more than any oath of loyalty.

  Domina closed the door behind them, came over, sat on his lap, and rested her head on his chest. “It’s all coming together for you, my lord.”

  “More than you know.” Leonidas stroked her silky black hair. “The dragon heir has been found.”

  She looked up at him, jade eyes sparkling. “She must be secured at once.”

  “I’ve put Rondo Tegan in charge of doing exactly that. He’s a fool and I hold out little hope for his success, but I might be surprised.”

  Domina’s lip twisted in distaste. “I have meet Rondo. He’s worthless. Why give him such an important job?

  “Because no one knows he works for me and I prefer, for the moment, to keep the other high sages ignorant of my true plans. Succeed or fail, Rondo will keep track of the girl and the pressure on. When the time comes that will make grabbing her all the easier.”

  “It’s a risky move, my lord.”

  “Indeed, but until we control all the towers, she’s as useless as the towers are without her. All the pieces must fall in place at the right moment. And that moment is coming, Domina. I can feel it.”

  Soon all his years of hard work would pay off and the world would lie at his feet.

  Chapter 7

  Yaz woke at his usual time, dressed and went downstairs. He’d fallen into a comfortable rhythm over the last few days. He enjoyed his time teaching Brigid to write and her penmanship already showed signs of improving. She was smart and determined to learn, a combination that led to success. At the bottom of the steps he heard movement in the kitchen. That was strange. Mom and Dad were usually long gone by the time he got up.

  He stuck his head in the kitchen and found his father at the counter pouring two cups of tea. Yaz blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the vision didn’t vanish. Apparently, he wasn’t imagining it. His father wore a tan tunic and matching leggings. It always seemed strange to Yaz, seeing his father without his armor. It was like he wasn’t really dressed.

  “Dad? Everything okay?”

  “Fine. Here.” Yaz accepted the cup of tea. “I wanted to talk with you and since the squires are flying today, I figured it would be a good chance.”

  They went into the dining room and sat at the end of the table. Yaz sipped his tea and found it excellent. Who would have guessed his father had a talent for brewing tea?

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  “Your future. I’ve asked around and know you’re making decent coin at the moment, but long-term hunting and trapping is a hard life.”

  Yaz didn’t know where this was going, but his stomach was doing backflips. “Did you have something else in mind?”

  “I spoke to Abelard yesterday and he mentioned needing some help with the dragons. I know how you like them and figured it would be easier work. It pays five silver scales a week.”

  Yaz frowned. He made more than that some weeks hunting. Of course, some weeks he made nothing so it would probably average out better over the long term. He’d miss talking with Brigid, but she was marrying in a couple months and he doubted her new husband would appreciate her hanging around with a single man her own age. Maybe this would be for the best.

 
Dad must have taken his thinking for hesitation since he added, “It would only be for a few hours every day. You’d still have plenty of time to help out at the tower. Your mother insisted.”

  Yaz grinned. Mom was the only one who could insist on anything with Dad. “I’ll talk to Master Robotham this morning and see what he wants me to do then decide, fair enough?”

  Dad nodded. “Fair enough. I think it’ll be a good fit.”

  His father left to do whatever the village needed this morning while Yaz finished his tea along with some bread and jam. Thus fortified, he left the house and crossed the street. The aviary was practically next door to their home so it was a short walk.

  The big doors were open and Master Robotham was inside sweeping out the dust. He had a blue bandana tied around his face and a heavy leather apron covering him from neck to knees. He spotted Yaz and hurried over out of the brown cloud.

  “Morning, Yaz.” He pulled the bandana down. “You spoke with your father?”

  “Yeah, Dad said you needed some help.”

  “I’m not as young as I used to be. The time has come to think about training a successor. There’s no one else in the village that loves dragons as much as you. I trust no one else to take my place as master of dragons.”

  “I appreciate that,” Yaz said. And he did. Master Robotham’s confidence meant the world to him.

  “But?”

  “But I always wanted to ride dragons. Spending hours looking after them and knowing I’ll never get to fly with one… I don’t know if I could take it.”

  “I understand. I’ve never wanted to fly – no head for heights – but I can certainly understand your point of view. If you’re not interested, I’ll have to find someone else, I just can’t imagine who.”

  Yaz clenched his jaw. Master Robotham was right. He had a responsibility, both to the dragons and the village, to see that they were well taken care of so they could do their job and protect everyone. His impossible dreams shouldn’t stand in the way of that.

  “I’ll do it, Master.” Yaz paused. “What, exactly, is the job?”

  “In the morning we feed and check them for nits before the patrol goes out. Then we sweep the stables, collecting shed scales and dung for sale. The rest of the day is yours until an hour before the patrol returns then we cut up their evening meal and feed them. Rinse and repeat each day.”

  “That’s it?” Anyone with half a brain could do what he just described.

  “The job is too simple, that’s what you’re thinking. You’re right, the actual day-to-day tasks are simple. The real job is to watch over the dragons. If they show any signs of injury or illness, we need to catch it early so it can be healed as quickly as possible. When you’ve worked with them for months on end, you know them and can quickly spot anything that’s different from one day to the next. Observation and memory, Yaz, not chopping up meat and cleaning, is what we focus on. That’s why you’re the perfect one for the job.”

  It sounded beyond boring to Yaz, but if that was what he needed to do, he’d do it for as long as he could stand, but he doubted it would be a lifetime.

  Chapter 8

  With Rondo still out there and Ariel snoring softly on his narrow bed, Moz slept poorly and was up before the sun. The girl showed no signs of stirring and he figured after the day she had yesterday she deserved to sleep as long as she wanted to. Anyway, he had preparations to make.

  A few clicks of the flint and steel fired up his oil lamp and he took it to the locked sea chest in the corner. Made of oak and banded with iron, the chest had sat in the corner, ignored but casting a huge shadow since he arrived in Gator Alley eight years ago. Despite all his efforts to ignore the cursed thing, it refused to vanish. Today he was just as glad that it hadn’t.

  He pulled the key out of his pocket and used it. The lid opened silently. Inside was a tied oilcloth bundle. The bundle held the remains of another life, one he swore he’d left behind. Perhaps this was the gods’ way of punishing him for his actions. What worse fate could they curse him with than to never know peace?

  A firm tug undid the knot and he unfolded the slick black cloth. The matched, curved swords in their black sheaths sat there mocking him, as pristine as the day he locked them up. The hilts were wrapped with ray skin and the pommels shaped like skulls. Moz picked up the top sword, gripped it behind the blacked silver hand guard, and pulled the blade free. The sharp hamon line gleamed in the flickering light.

  How much blood had soaked that steel over the years? Moz couldn’t remember. Gallons certainly, hundreds of gallons.

  He slammed the blade back into the sheath and set both swords beside the chest. Under the swords lay a suit of brown-and-green mottled leather armor. Not that different from his hunting suit, but the pattern was made with dragon scales. The breast plate would take a direct hit from a crossbow without tearing. It would still hurt like hell, but he’d survive.

  Wrapped up in the armor was the final bits of kit that made a ranger a ranger, throwing daggers, a wire garrote, an iron-reinforced glove that let him crush a man’s skull with a hard punch. So many ways to kill.

  “What’s for breakfast?” a tiny voice asked.

  Moz packed his memories away but left the gear out. “What do you like?”

  “Eggs?” she said, her voice hopeful.

  Moz didn’t keep eggs, but the tavern served them. “We’ll go eat after I get ready, okay?”

  “Okay.” She snuggled back under his ratty blanket.

  Moz quickly swapped his swamp leathers for his old ranger gear. It sickened him a little, how good it felt to have the swords on his belt again. He packed his hunting gear in the chest and locked it, locked away his comfortable, easy life. Moz was a ranger again, a ranger with a mission. A plain leather satchel hung by the door. He slung it over his shoulder and filled it with his savings, a not exactly princely sum, but enough to get them where they needed to go.

  “Okay, kiddo, let go eat.”

  “Yay!” Ariel leapt out of bed and ran over to grasp his hand. The dragons buzzed down from the rafters and landed on her shoulders.

  He looked down at her and felt her tiny hand in his calloused paw and swore that even if it cost him his life, he would see Ariel to safety.

  The sun was coming up as they walked down the ramp to the road. They’d barely taken a step when Cork came running out of his house. His eyes were black and red. Moz doubted he’d slept a wink.

  “What can I do, Moz? I can’t get what they did out of my head. I keep seeing it over and over. I gotta do something.”

  “Watch my lines. Stay out of trouble. I can’t look after both of you on the road.”

  Cork’s pocked face twisted in a grimace. “That’s all? Moz, can’t I—”

  “No. You can’t come with us. You’re a good man in the swamp, but no fighter.” Cork’s brow furrowed like he wanted to argue. “Don’t look at me like that. There’s going to be trouble just as sure as anything and I can’t protect you both. Try and get some sleep. You look like death warmed over.”

  Moz left Cork standing in the street and headed for the tavern. He and Ariel would eat and get going. The school was a good four hundred miles northeast of town. He’d have to find a horse. No way could the kid walk that far and he didn’t fancy carrying her.

  Moz had never traveled with a child before and it slowed him more than he would have believed possible. The roan gelding he bought in Gator Alley carried them both easily at a mile-devouring trot. Ariel didn’t complain, but she did have to use the bushes every hour or two and kept falling asleep so that he had to watch every moment to keep her from falling out of the saddle. On top of all this, Moz was constantly watching their back trail. He didn’t believe for a second Rondo was finished with them. The man’s eyes burned with the determination of the obsessed. They would see him again.

  They’d made about twenty-five miles the third day of their journey and the sun was low in the sky. Ariel stretched and yawned, a sure sign that he needed t
o find a place to make camp. He found a likely spot twenty minutes later, a little clearing just off the road partially surrounded by tall pines and with an already made stone fire pit. They wouldn’t be the first travelers to use this site.

  Moz guided the roan into the clearing, lowered Ariel to the ground, and dismounted.

  “I can get wood,” she said.

  “Don’t go too far.”

  Moz unsaddled and rubbed down the horse before hobbling it in a patch of thick grass. Ariel staggered into the clearing with an armload of dry limbs nearly as big as she was. He’d learned from their first few nights setting up camp that she didn’t like him to help.

  “Set them by the fire pit please,” he said.

  She dropped the sticks and beamed at him. Considering her parents had been murdered before her eyes, Ariel was coping well. Almost too well. He expected nightmares and tears in the night. Instead she slept better than he did.

  Moz started the fire and got dinner going. The dried meat and vegetables made a filling if bland stew. While it simmered, he watched Ariel hum to her dragons. The little things swooped and dove in the flickering firelight, occasionally snapping a bug out of the air.

  Ariel fell silent and looked at him with her strange, wide eyes. “They weren’t my real mommy and daddy.”

  Moz stared for a second. “What?”

  “At the farm. They brought me home from the orphanage when I was little. I called them Mom and Dad, but they really weren’t. I don’t remember my real mom and dad.”

  “Is that why you don’t cry for them?” Moz asked.

  “I never cry. They were nice and I liked helping with the turtles. I’ll miss the farm. It was fun playing in the woods. How much farther do we have to go?”

  “A ways. I figure we’re about a quarter of the way there, so another two weeks at the pace we’ve been going.”

  “Then what?” she asked.

  Moz wished he had a good answer for her. Truth was he had no idea what would happen to her. The teachers would instruct her on how to best use her ability and no one would be dumb enough to attack the castle. If people learned of her power, they’d want to use her the same way Rondo did.