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

by Samantha Warren

  “Even for what?”

  Jalea looked at Lana in disbelief. “For my freedom, of course. I do not want to be indebted to you.”

  Lana shook her head furiously. “You don’t owe me for that. You don’t owe anyone for that. Your freedom is your right, and I am happy to help. Introducing me to the head of your clan is a favor to me, not payment for any debt.”

  The dragon nodded once and turned north to head back where she came from. As soon as Lana and Dixon were settled into the saddle, Neth fell into step behind her, quickly closing the gap between them.

  They walked in silence for a long time before the larger dragon spoke up. “Tell us more about the Rimers, please.”

  Jalea cleared her throat, her tail slashing back and forth gently across the top of the snow. Lana noticed that the white dragon did not sink into the snow as deep as the green dragon did, and her footprints were much like a duck’s.

  “Well, unlike dragons in the south, we are all white. Wait, that’s not necessarily true. There is one dragon who is black. His name is Erdreo. He is from the Milwaith clan. He is their fiercest warrior.”

  Dixon’s breath was warm on Lana’s cheek as he leaned around her to address the little dragon. “What clan are you from?”

  “I am from the Kolwaith clan. We are herders mostly. The Walwaith clan is gatherers, and Milwaith provides most of our defense. They are more nomadic than the rest of us and have several small villages spread along the Barrier.”

  Lana leaned back into Dixon. “How far are we from the Barrier?”

  “It is about a day’s walk from here. When we arrive, you need to let me speak to the guards. Stay behind me and do not pull your weapons for any reason.”

  Dixon grinned at Lana and kissed her on the cheek, sending a shiver across her skin. “That will be hard, but we will do our best.”

  Neth’s sides rumbled gently as she asked her next question. “What do you herd?”

  “Our main herd is cattle. Mostly frozenlanders.”

  Lana knew of frozenlanders from her time in Jaje. They were long-haired creatures that grew to be nearly twice the size of a normal cow. Their thick fur made them suitable for extremely cold climates, but Jaje was too far south to make them a viable product. A few farmers had been successful in raising one or two if they kept their shaggy coats trimmed back, and those that did earned a good bit of money from the tender, savory meat that the animals produced. Their hair was also much sought after for clothing and bedding by richer inhabitants of Layr.

  “We keep sheep and a few other species, as well, but they must be kept inside once the wind starts to blow cold, so we cannot develop them into large herds.”

  The group had been walking for several hours at that point and Lana felt her stomach begin to rumble. Dixon felt it too and suggested a pause to eat. As the dragons hunted, the humans settled in to a frosty meal.

  Dixon handed Lana a piece of frozen bread and said, “So what do you think?”

  Lana eyed the bread with disdain, but bit a chunk off with the edge of her teeth. “I think she’s being honest.”

  He smiled as he chewed on some dry, cold cheese. “I am sure she is, but do you think we will be successful in getting their help?”

  “Maybe. We’ll have to see. They sound like they have a good setup already. They may not be open to outsiders.”

  The dragons returned, Neth with a buck and Jalea with what Lana assumed was the buck’s doe. Lana envied them the warm meal, but said nothing until Jalea tore off two chunks of meat about the size of a human hand and held them out to Lana and Dixon. Dixon took his piece with a big grin and started ripping into it. Lana eyed the meat before taking the bloody chunk into her gloved hand gingerly. She examined it closely, noticing tooth marks. She was disgusted at the thought of downing raw meat, but she knew she would get no better for a while and they had been without meat for too long. Neth shared on occasion, but the dragon was big and needed the nourishment, and catching even one meal a day was difficult at best.

  “Thank you,” Lana said before she began to eat the meat.

  They ate in silence the rest of the meal and Lana used some snow to wipe the blood off her hands and mouth before they mounted up again.

  “One of you can ride on me, if you like. I am not big, but I can take a human with no trouble.”

  Lana looked at Dixon, who nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll ride on Neth.”

  Jalea knelt down into the snow so Lana could climb aboard. It felt weird without the saddle and Lana clung to the creature with her knees as the white dragon rose from the ground. Compared to Neth’s practiced movements, Jalea’s were jerky and she was clearly unaccustomed to having a rider. That realization made Lana truly appreciate what kind of an offer the young dragon had made, and she bit back the complaints that were building on her tongue.

  “How did you end up in the hands of that awful man?”

  The dragon shuddered beneath Lana’s legs and the woman feared the dragon would dump her off into the deep drifts on the side of the path she was breaking. Instead, Jalea took a ragged breath and slowed her pace slightly.

  “I was out hunting with my brother, Jireo. We were after a fellark and had it trapped between the two of us.”

  “What’s a fellark?”

  Lana smiled at Dixon as she remembered that he was a southerner who was not privy to the same tales that she was. “A fellark is a mythical beast. At least, I thought it was mythical. Stories are told about them in Jaje. They are as large as a dragon and nearly as fierce. Their blood is more powerful than any Gypsy cure and their fur is said to be able to clothe a dozen families.”

  The white dragon laughed. “If that is what a fellark is, it truly is a mythical beast. No, the true fellarks are not quite so magical. They are indeed large, but the biggest I have seen is no taller than me. They are fierce, but they are herbivores and do not need to hunt, so their skills are mostly defensive. A good defense can still be more dangerous than a mediocre offense, though, so they must be handled with care. They get very angry when you threaten them, which is why they are such fun to hunt.

  “As for their magical blood—that is heavily debated, even among the members of my clan. Some of the elders swear by it, while many of the younger dragons scoff at the idea. I do remember when I was just a hatchling, my brother grew deathly ill. My mother feared for his life, and when the village healer brought a bowl of warm fellark blood, only my brother argued against it. He eventually drank it and he was better within the week.

  “I am still not sure if it was the blood or the other numerous treatments my mother tried, but he did survive and to this day, my family is adamant about having some fresh blood ready when needed.

  “Their fur cannot clothe a dozen families, but they do have a lot of it and it is very soft and supple, making it very expensive. Before the first war, I heard that the trade with the south was lucrative, especially for fellark items. But when Aron took over, our leader forbade all outside commerce. Since then, my people have been completely self-sufficient.”

  The little dragon paused and Neth cleared her throat. Lana had heard that particular sound before. It was a non-verbal attempt at encouragement and it was enough to get Jalea talking again.

  “Anyway, we had it between us in a canyon. I was on the southern end, my brother on the north. It was a male fellark, so it had those nasty little horns that are only about the length of a human hand, but sharp as anything. I had started toward it when I felt something bite my back. I turned around and there were the three slavers. The big man—I think his name was Remus—he had that whip. It hurt so bad. He hit me twice more before I could turn around. I tried to rip it from his hand, but one of the other slavers shot some sort of net. It hit me in the nose and wrapped around my jaw. I couldn’t open my mouth no matter how hard I tried. Then the other slaver threw a rope with balls on the end and it wrapped around my front legs. I fell to the ground and bit my tongue.”

  Jalea’s face was streaked with fresh tea
rs and Lana reached a hand out to stroke her shoulder. The little creature shivered once, then continued. “My brother was at the far end of the canyon. He could not see what was happening, but I could hear him calling my name. I was supposed to herd the fellark toward him and I hadn’t. The beast stood between us, ready for a fight but not willing to give up his ground.

  “My brother took flight, risking the loss of the fellark. When he drew within range, the head slaver shot a crossbow that had another net thing on it. It wrapped around my brother’s head and wings. He dropped like a rock. I could feel the impact even from so far away. I’m not sure he survived.”

  She had stopped walking halfway through the story and now she settled her nose onto her front feet. Lana could hear the dragon snuffling and the creature wiped her face on her legs.

  The young woman leaned over and hugged the dragon as best she could. “How long ago was this?”

  “About four days ago. With the harness they put on me, I couldn’t move very well. It took a lot longer to travel.”

  “We should get going. The sooner we find your family, the better.”

  Jalea nodded and they set off once more, silence weighing heavily over all of them.

  When the night grew too dark to travel, the group settled down into a clearing the dragons made in the snow. The large beasts curled around each other, forming a small cove in between their bodies. In there, Lana and Dixon snuggled close. Just before she drifted off to sleep, Lana felt the warm press of Dixon’s lips against the cool skin of her neck. She smiled and wrapped her arms tighter around him, losing herself in his warmth.

  Chapter 17

  Bellithana rode atop the wagon, despite the freezing temperatures. Her hair was pulled back and tucked underneath her thick, woolen hat, but the wind still managed to pick up stray strands and fling them about her face. Pushing another dark piece back under her cap, she sighed and looked at the blanketed landscape in front of her.

  The group had been traveling for over a month, following rumors from villages along the way. All reports claimed that Aito’s compound was located somewhere in the north, but no one could agree on where exactly it was. Attempts by both Belli and Valian to recruit further soldiers had failed. It seemed that everyone wanted freedom and peace, but now that it had been partially achieved, the kingdom’s inhabitants were content to settle.

  A half-snarl crossed the Gypsy woman’s face. “I will not settle,” she mumbled to the winds. “I have not fought this long to risk the rise of another tyrant.”

  She shook her head and sighed, watching the horses plod along. The Gypsy horses were strong and steady, unlike the weaker stallions the soldiers rode, so when the snows grew deep in the paths, her wagon took the lead, breaking a trail for the others to follow. The other Gypsy wagon brought up the rear, flanked by soldiers. In between the two rode the soldiers who had survived the harsh weather, and the supply wagons, both of which were despairingly empty.

  The group had been turned away from the last village they attempted to enter, the soldiers at the gate stating that strangers were not allowed. Ator had been tucked away inside the wagon and the other two dragons remained hidden, but she could see the fear and contempt on the soldiers’ faces. She could also see the stables through the slats in the gate and hear the screams of a dragon inside the walls. If her men had not been starving and weak from the long trip, she would have attacked right then.

  “Belli? Is everything alright?”

  The woman jumped at the voice beside her. Valian sat on the bench, a look of concern on his face. She glanced down and realized the horses were not moving. In front of them stood the shattered gates of a village. Looking into the square was like looking into the broken mouth of a large beast. She could see the blackened shapes of destroyed houses and smoke still drifted in places.

  Ignoring Valian’s question, she hopped down from the wagon, her eyes darting around the entrance, searching for movement. When she saw none, she removed her gloves and shoved them in her pockets. Valian joined her and drew his sword from its sheath. He beckoned to the men behind them and half a dozen formed up silently.

  Bellithana turned her head slightly, removed the cap from her ears, and strained to hear something, anything that would indicate the village survived whatever tragedy had befallen it. The wind whistled through the shells of the destroyed houses and past the gate, but nothing else made a sound.

  Staying alert, the woman moved to the gate and peered inside. It had been a training village; she could tell from the size of the piles of coal and ash in some areas. Gingerly, she pushed open one of the broken gates and had to jump out of the way when it collapsed off its hinges. She tripped and nearly fell, but a strong hand kept her from tumbling to the ground.

  She smiled at Valian thankfully and gave him a nod. Inside the walls, the scene was grisly. Bodies lay strewn about the courtyard, both dragon and human, frozen in death and not yet decayed. The frigid temperatures preserved the dead all too well and she could see the looks of terror on those who were still recognizable. Her vision clouded and she stood still for several moments, blinking away the tears.

  “Search the village,” commanded Valian. “Find anything that might be useful. Food, clothing, wood, weapons.”

  He paused, as if unsure of his next thought. “And survivors.”

  Belli glanced at him and she could see her own doubt sitting heavily on his face. Neither of them expected to find the latter. She turned away, searching through the debris of a nearby house for anything that might be of value. All she managed to uncover from the snow and ash were two spoons and the shards of a broken bowl.

  She could hear the others moving through the rest of the village and took her time in searching the next house. It was less destroyed than the first, most of the walls still intact, though the majority of the roof was gone. She moved through the four rooms carefully, avoiding the broken furniture that was strewn about the floor.

  The last room was nearly complete, with only the door and windows missing. It even had a small bed that was covered with a single blanket. Along one wall was propped a small dresser that came up to her waist. It was blackened in spots with smoke, but looked unharmed otherwise.

  She reached for the dresser and pulled, yanking the top drawer harder than necessary. It squealed slightly and she paused. Beneath the high-pitched noise, she thought she heard another sound. Listening carefully, she waited, but it did not come again. She pulled on the handle of the drawer once more and it came out before she could stop it, the bottom banging to the ground.

  This time, she was sure she heard a stifled scream. Reaching for the dresser, she pulled it away from the wall, peering into the dark behind it. In the shadows sat a small figure, hands clasped over his mouth, eyes wide. Belli squatted down, examining the young boy. She reached out to brush his face and he flinched away, terror evident in his blue eyes.

  “I am not going to hurt you,” she said, her voice soft and gentle, as if she were speaking to a scared foal. “Please, come out so I can see you.”

  With a bit more coaxing, he rose from his hiding spot and stood in the center of the room. The look of dejection and defeat on his face had Belli blinking away yet more tears.

  “What is your name?”

  He looked up at her, his face dirty and streaked. “Deni.”

  “Nice to meet you, Deni. My name is Bellithana. You can call me Belli.”

  She sat on the bed and beckoned for him to join her. He did, but sat as far from her as possible. “What happened here, Deni?”

  The boy stared at his feet for several minutes, biting his chapped lips until they bled. Belli slowly wrapped an arm around his shoulder, waiting until she felt him relax.

  Taking a deep breath, Deni began. “We had heard of the war in the south, but it never came to us. My mama and papa were dragon keepers. So was the rest of the village. But we treated our dragons like they were friends, really. I heard stories of how some villages were mean to them, but we weren’t.
The boss decided to free the dragons, make them part of the village. My best friend was a dragon.”

  The words caught in his throat and he stopped for a moment. Tears began streaming down his face, running in the already stained tracks in the dirt. “I was eating breakfast with my mama. My little brother was sleeping in his basket. He wasn’t a year old yet. I heard a scream from outside and mama dropped a plate she was carrying.

  “She looked out the window and I could see she was scared. Her hands were shaking. She grabbed me and my brother and took us to her bedroom. She pulled the dresser from the wall and shoved me behind it. ‘Stay here and do not move. Do not whisper a sound. Make no noise. When it’s over, I will come for you,’ she said.

  “She shoved the dresser back in place and I crouched down so I could see her. She picked up my baby brother from the bed and turned, but there was a man in the door.”

  Deni stopped speaking then, shuddering in Bellithana’s grasp.

  She looked up at a noise in the doorway and found Valian standing there, a sad expression on his face. He remained silent and unmoving and they both waited for the child to continue.

  Finally, his sobs lessened and he sat up straighter. He looked at Valian with fierce eyes, but the man’s small smile seemed to reassure him. “The man was… he was wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” Belli prompted.

  Deni shook his head. “I don’t know. He wasn’t normal. He walked with jerky movements and his eyes were weird. They were like the eyes of the blind man who tended the old dragons. His skin was gray and he had cuts that did not bleed. I could see the pink inside them, but no blood came out.

  “He went toward my mother and she screamed, but he grabbed her and threw her. Her head hit the dresser. I could feel it shake. And then she fell to the ground. She was staring at me, but she couldn’t see me. She was already dead. I almost screamed, but I didn’t. She had asked me not to. I wouldn’t let her down.”

  Deni wiped his runny nose with the back of a gloved hand. “The man picked up my brother. The baby was screaming so loud I had to cover my ears. Then he… he twisted, and it was like when I pulled the head off a fly last summer. I couldn’t… I didn’t…”