Winds from the North: An NA Epic Fantasy (Blood of the Dragon Book 3)

by Samantha Warren

  “You’re crying on my scales. Normally I wouldn’t mind, but I have a small cut back there and the salt in your tears is making it hurt. Please stop.”

  Lana sat up straight, so quickly she nearly slipped off Neth’s shoulders. She sniffed quietly, pulling her scarf up to wipe the water from her face. She hadn’t realized the tears were flowing so freely. Lana chided herself. Lately she had been crying a lot more than she was used to. She had never been an emotional woman and she didn’t wish to become one. She glanced at the scaly being beneath her. Across the back of the dragon’s neck was a long, red welt with a dark red strip in the middle. Lana frowned to herself, wondering how she had not seen that before.

  “Apologies,” she mumbled as the dragon walked through an open gate into the camp.

  “Think nothing of it.”

  The parade of newly freed dragons followed the guidance of one of the other dragons and stopped at a clearing to the left of the gate. Lana slid to the ground with the aid of a Gypsy. When she landed, her wounded leg gave out and she fell into him. He gripped her firmly but gently and straightened her.

  “Thank you.” Her voice came out weak and quiet and she chided herself once more.

  “You’re welcome.” She could sense a smile in his voice and hazarded a glance.

  The man standing over her was ten years her senior, maybe a bit less. He had dark gray eyes like the evening sky during a rainstorm. His skin was an olive color, much like Bellithana’s, and his dark hair was curling, framing his face and hanging halfway down the back of his neck. His lips were full and quirked at the corners in an unsure smile.

  Lana found herself staring and jerked her head away, focusing on the ground. She cleared her throat. “Thank you,” she said again, her voice strong and sure, and she forced herself to meet his eyes.

  “You already said that.” His smile grew, genuine and beautiful and it made his eyes glow. “My name is Dixon.”

  He held out his hand and Lana took it. His skin was rough—his hands those of a working man who had seen hard labor. His grip was firm. She felt a familiar spark, one she hadn’t felt in many months. Jerking her hand away, she turned from him and limped toward the healer that was heading her way. The old woman squinted, eying Lana’s puffy face and the man behind her. When Lana reached her, she put her arm around the girl and glared at Dixon. He hurried to catch up, his eyes on the ground, and slipped his arm around Lana’s waist. Lana tensed, but the Gypsy woman gave her a fierce stare and she didn’t argue.

  With the help of Dixon and the Gypsy healer, Lana limped to the woman’s wagon. By the time they reached the steps, she could no longer put weight on her leg. She eyed the stairs and frowned. The old woman left her clinging to Dixon and went up into the wagon. At the top she turned and gave them an expectant look.

  Lana lifted her wounded leg and placed it on the bottom stair and put a hand on the thin rail beside it. She took a deep breath and pulled. As soon as her good foot left the ground, her other leg gave out and she felt herself falling backward.

  “Gotcha,” Dixon grunted as he caught her and swung her up into his arms. “You’re one stubborn young lady, aren’t you?”

  Lana kept her eyes down, staring off into the distance toward the gathering dragons. “Yes.”

  He scoffed and carried Lana up the stairs, placing her gently on a cot in the front room. “We’ll have to work on that,” he said.

  She looked up, meeting his eyes. He did not smile, but she could still see concern floating in the deep gray. He held her gaze briefly, then turned to the healer. “Do you need anything else?”

  “No, Dixon. Thank you. She will be safe with me.”

  “Very well.” He bowed and left without giving Lana another glance.

  After the door banged shut, the healer turned to Lana. Her wrinkled face was pinched in thought. The young woman remained silent, choosing to pull off her gloves and coat rather than meet the Gypsy’s eyes. After a few uncomfortable moments, the old woman grunted and reached for a leather case along the wall. She placed it on the cot beside Lana and cracked her knuckles.

  “Let’s take a look.”

  A gasp escaped Lana’s chapped lips as the woman’s fingers probed through the thick clothing to find the wound. Lana was wearing long underwear, two pairs of doeskin pants, and a winter outer layer made from several ebas—thickly-furred bovine-like animals typically found in the northern parts of Layr.

  “It’s all the way through.”

  With the Gypsy’s help, Lana removed her eba pants and the two pairs of doeskin. The old woman used a sharp knife to slice the leg of Lana’s long underwear, exposing a deep gash along her calf.

  “Bite on this,” said the healer, shoving a piece of wood into Lana’s mouth.

  The young woman clenched her jaw tightly as a bottle of cleanser was poured over the wound. When the Gypsy took the wood back, pits were left in it from Lana’s teeth.

  “Lie back.”

  Lana did not fight when the woman pressed her down onto the cot and gave her a small cup of some liquid. Lana sipped it and relaxed as a pleasant burning sensation blossomed across the roof of her mouth and down her throat to explode in the pit of her stomach. She sighed audibly as her vision started to blur. The Gypsy pressed something against the wound on Lana’s leg, but the pain was brief. Lana felt her limbs lighten and the world slowly slipped to black.

  Chapter 9

  “You wished to speak to me?” Ychthorn lounged in the garden on a grass-covered knoll, basking in the warmth of the sun. It glistened off his red scales, giving him an orange tinge.

  Jacon Rokliath stood before him, all pomp and circumstance in his button-up overcoat and embroidered pants. He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, tugging at his sleeves. “Yes, sir.”

  Ychthorn could hear the strain in the man’s voice and wondered how much it pained him to refer to the dragon with such respect. He straightened to make himself even larger and looked down at his visitor. “What can I do for you, Jacon?”

  Jacon’s lips grew into a tight line and a muscle moved as he gritted his teeth. With a small shake of his head, he clenched his jaw and blew out a breath. “I have it on good authority that you are in need of an assistant. Someone who can help you with daily tasks and be your right hand in all matters. I know just the person for that position, should you be so kind as to hear my suggestion.”

  The corners of Ychthorn’s large mouth twitched and he fought back a smile. He knew it was petty to get such pleasure from Jacon’s inner turmoil, but he couldn’t help himself. “Yes, I am, actually looking for an assistant. Who did you have in mind?”

  Jacon squared his shoulders and made his rotund form look as regal and strong as he could before looking the dragon in the eye. “My son, Landow.”

  The suggestion was not quite what Ychthorn was expecting. Landow was Jacon’s youngest, barely of an age to leave his home and seek employment on his own. And from all reports, the boy had been coddled by his mother, rarely allowed to attend court and kept from the realities of the war until it came to his own doorstep.

  “Landow? He is young. Too young, I think.”

  Jacon shook his head fiercely. “No, sir, he is not. He is of age and he is much smarter than he looks. He has had the best tutors available in Layr. Alured’s own teacher had a hand in the boy’s education at one time.”

  Thorn knew of the arrangement. It was when Landow was barely old enough to learn his letters, just before the royal tutor died. Rumors claimed that the man was insane by that point, driven to madness after his tenure in Slyvania’s presence.

  “Education at the hands of the royal tutor is not enough to qualify someone to be the assistant to the head of the Council of Man and Beast, Jacon. What could the boy possibly offer me?”

  “He is headstrong, compassionate to a fault, and he is smarter than both his mother and me. He is a very fast learner; he soaks up knowledge as if he were a sponge. And he is capable of anything he puts his mind to.” />
  Ychthorn nodded. “What are his aspirations in life?”

  He could see Jacon visibly relax as the man fought back a smile. “Well, Thorn. May I call you Thorn?”

  The dragon nodded. “For now.”

  “Well, Thorn, since before your arrival in Rona, Landow has been talking about how to make the kingdom more stable, how to re-energize the workers to produce more food at lower costs, how to bring peace. Crazy talk, most of it; the idealizations of youth. But he does have heart and drive, and I believe that will take him far in life. He just needs some way, someone to allow him the opportunity to prove his worth. Being the youngest son of five, there is little I can do for him. I have already exhausted most of my ties getting my four older boys into prime positions. This is the only chance he has of really having an opportunity to succeed.”

  Thorn knew of Jacon’s older sons. They were as ambitious and ruthless as their father. Two had risen swiftly through the military ranks, much to Jacon’s dismay and that of his wife. Both were slain in battles during the short war. The other two were working for wealthy merchants: one traveling to far-flung lands as a liaison, the other managing the day-to-day relations of the most powerful trader in the city.

  Ychthorn thought for a moment. Having Jacon’s son as his personal assistant would serve several purposes. First and foremost, it would endear him to Jacon, who was the most obnoxious man he had ever had to deal with. That alone would be beneficial. Second, the boy would be able to run interference when Jacon was on a rampage and wanted to throw his anger at the dragon. Third, Ychthorn often felt very isolated. Not only was he the lone dragon on the council, but he was also the youngest member. The others were far older than him and they tended to treat him as such, though unintentionally. Landow’s maturity roughly translated to that of Ychthorn’s, and the dragon looked forward to having someone he could spend time with without being treated or feeling like he was still a child. “

  Bring him to me at this time tomorrow. I will speak with him and then I will make my decision.”

  Jacon’s face tightened and his eyes grew hard, but he nodded. “Thank you for your consideration, my lord. I am sure you will be pleased with him. You will find no one better to take this position.”

  “I appreciate your suggestion and I will find out tomorrow. Now, if you do not mind, my noonday meal is arriving, and I am quite famished.”

  Jacon bowed a very shallow bow that would be considered disrespectful had Ychthorn cared about such trivialities. “Of course. Have a splendid day, Ychthorn.”

  The dragon nodded and turned to the large cart that had been rolled out by one of the servants. He ignored Jacon as the man left and dove into the bowl of beef stew and legs of mutton that had become his daily fare.

  ***

  Jacon was true to his word and arrived exactly on time the next day with his youngest son in tow. Ychthorn had asked the palace chef to prepare a picnic for the meeting. The dragon was lounging on a blanket in the garden when the visitors arrived.

  “Jacon Rokliath and his son, Landow, my lord.” The girl, Zina, who served as Ychthorn’s temporary assistant and personal servant bowed, throwing a glance Landow’s way before leaving the garden.

  Thorn gave a wry smile. He had spoken with her the previous evening to see if she had any information on the boy and her response had surprised him.

  “Please, Landow, sit.” The dragon indicated the single chair across the table from him. Landow glanced once at his father before taking his seat. Jacon stood uncomfortably, a look of consternation on his face. Thorn turned to him and bowed his head. “Thank you, Jacon. You may leave us now.”

  Jacon spluttered momentarily, trying to find an excuse to remain. His tongue was tied, however, and he bowed before retreating in a huff.

  When he heard the door to the palace shut solidly, Ychthorn turned to the boy in front of him. “So, Landow, how do you feel about dragons?”

  Despite his secluded youth, Landow had apparently been busy doing more than his parents and much of Rona knew. He and Zina were part of an underground movement of youngsters who were determined to see the growth of Layr in a positive direction, for all of its inhabitants.

  The young man narrowed his eyes and Ychthorn knew his test had been discovered.

  “What are you asking?” His voice was softer than Thorn had expected and more thoughtful than his father’s.

  “I am asking what you think of dragons. That is all.”

  A laugh escaped Landow’s lips. “No. You are asking if I am like my father. In that respect, I can tell you that we are as different as can be. If I did not know otherwise, I would not even assume we were related. He is politically ambitious, cruel, and would walk over anyone to get what he wants. I am not like him at all.”

  Thorn smiled and took a bite of one of the chickens in front of him. “I hope not. I am not hiring your father to be my assistant, and I would prefer he not be privy to most of what goes on behind closed doors.”

  Taking his leader’s cue, Landow ate a slice of cheese, savoring the creamy texture before responding. “Of that, you need not worry. My father’s ideals are not mine. I…”

  Landow’s jaw clenched and Thorn could see that the boy was working through something. Raising a clawed hand, he waved toward the door. Zina stepped out of the shadows, bringing a brief smile to Landow’s lips that he quickly tried to hide. The girl walked up to them, settling onto Ychthorn’s tail alongside the table. She picked up a grape and stuffed it into her mouth, throwing the boy a smile in return.

  “Zina has shared some of your ideals with me. I am quite pleased and would be very happy to have you as my assistant. Will you accept?”

  Landow allowed his grin to blossom and nodded. “It would be my honor.”

  “Excellent. This will be our first meeting. I hear you have some innovative plans to increase the treasury while relieving some of the stress on the peasants. If you would be so kind, would you share those with me?”

  At first, Landow was hesitant to offer up his opinions, but with Zina’s encouragement and insistence, he began to share. “First, there are many programs in place that have carried over from the reign of Slyvania. The treasurer was killed during the war and the treasury ransacked. Though you and the council have done as well as could be expected, you have had to piece the accounts together and find the missing money.

  You have been relying on the wrong people, as well. I know you are hesitant to make waves among the wealthier, more powerful citizens, but they are also the ones to be least trusted. They only look out for themselves and will do everything in their power to further their own means. My father is one of them, and he has a very loose tongue at home, so I know about many secret programs that are still filtering money out of the government and into the hands of men like him.

  I also know of stores of money and goods that were stockpiled before and during Slyvania’s reign to keep those same families at the top. I, along with some of my friends, will make a list of those people, places, and programs, so that you have full access to everything you need.”

  Ychthorn had expected Landow to be of use, but he had not expected the boy’s forward manner or his willingness to hand over his father’s partners in crime. “That is an excellent start, indeed. We need to cancel those programs and acquire any funds and goods that belong to the government.”

  “Yes. You also need to fix the tax system. As it stands, everyone is being taxed fifteen percent of their total worth. Though it may seem fair, it is not. For those who make very little, fifteen percent could mean the difference between feeding their entire family daily or feeding them weekly. I propose you lower the taxes for those who make less and increase them for the rich. The rich will balk and try to overpower the decision, but the rich are few in comparison, and not only will you help those who are not as well off, but you will win them over more easily.

  “When you first came to Rona, there were high expectations. Most of them were too high, but they were there an
d nothing will change that. Since then, not enough has been done and the peasants are growing agitated. Winning their favor is crucial at this point, or they will start to idealize the past three hundred years and start seeking a new king.”

  Ychthorn nodded. “You are very wise for someone your age. Zina, stay with us and let us discuss this further.”

  The moon was high in the sky when Landow left, drawing a smile from Ychthorn as he thought of the way Jacon must have suffered not knowing what was happening. He went to bed feeling renewed hope for the first time in a long time.

  Chapter 10

  Lana awoke from her drug-induced sleep to a warm ray of sun on her face. Her head felt groggy and she lay there with her eyes closed, basking in the rare sunshine. Her nose felt slightly chilly, but the rest of her was warm and comfortable. She sighed softly and rolled over, pulling the thick covers up to her chin.

  A clearing throat had Lana sitting bolt upright, groping for the bow that wasn’t there. Her wide eyes scanned the room frantically, finally settling on a form in a chair in the corner. Dixon sat there, arms behind his head, legs stretched out in front of him with his ankles crossed. He held a small smirk on his red lips and it grew bigger as Lana pulled the blankets up to cover herself.

  “You’re rude,” she said, clenching her teeth against the sudden chill on her back.

  “How am I rude?” He sat forward, placing his elbows on his knees. Amusement played in his eyes as she adjusted again.

  “You’re sitting there watching me sleep while I’m not dressed. That’s extremely rude… and creepy.”