“We have to re-institute the Choosing!” Bower’s face lit up. “That is what you mean, isn’t it, great queen? That the dragons and the new riders will never truly bond unless there is a proper ceremony.”
Yes, Lord Bower. You are a quick learner, which is a good quality in a king, Zenema said. Now, I am so very tired, and I have been flying for such a long time. I will sleep and dream of a time when dragons could fly freely over the lands, with humans on their backs.
“So do we all dream of such things,” Bower answered, but I couldn’t bring myself to say anything. I crouched forward and put both of my hands on the side of Zenema’s snout, feeling the warmth radiating out from her.
Oh Saffron-daughter, the dragon’s tone was gentle. You must trust Bower, and trust yourself. I am proud of you. The queen dragon murmured as she drifted off to sleep.
14
Bower, Injuries
“Will she live?” I asked Mother Gorlas in a hushed tone, not wanting Saffron or any of the others around to hear. Mother Gorlas stood tending the cauldron from which emanated the scent of steeping herbs. The hour was getting late, but even though the sun had set over Kingswood, the bonfires the dragons had lit around Zenema to keep the old mother warm lit the area brightly. It was to one of these such bonfires that Mother Gorlas had brought her cauldron so she could be closer to the injured queen, and tend to the warm compresses she wrapped and changed and rewrapped around Zenema’s neck.
“I think so,” the older woman said, working quickly to pull another strip from the cauldron and carry it in a bundle over to the white dragon.
“What’s wrong with her?” I asked. After her long journey and battle, her deep sleep would have seemed completely normal to me had it not been for Saffron and Jaydra, keeping a worried watch by her side. High above, the other island dragons flew in circles making their loud, hooting cries as the sun dropped behind the mountains. It felt to me like a mourning, and a terrible sadness welled up from all of us.
The island dragons are scared that they might lose their mother. They feel lost, I thought, as Mother Gorlas started to speak.
“That other dragon, the one that we called One-Eye? When they fought, I believed that Queen Zenema was holding back, trying to show her dominance, not kill One-Eye. But One-Eye did not play by the same rules, not at all.” Mother Gorlas frowned. “One-Eye bit Zenema’s fire-sacs, here—” The older woman pointed at Zenema’s wounds, and despite how gruesome and disturbing it was, I was intrigued.
“Zenema is more civilized than half of the humans that I have ever known. You have not met a dragon like Zenema,” I said, thinking of Jaydra. I wondered then what the citizens of Torvald might think, and any of the other people of the world, if they suddenly met an angry dragon instead of an island one. Had I not met Saffron, and been shown the ways of a true dragon friend, how would I think of them, even?
Turning to look over at Jaydra curled up against the warm and wheezing belly of her mother, the line of her snout, her gentle but powerful wings, I did not believe that I could ever be afraid of her. Surely not!
“Thank you, Lord Bower, but I know now that my time spent keeping our captive mountain dragons was wrong. I feel that it is my duty to try and do what I can to rectify it,” Mother Gorlas continued, before nodding back at the bandages. “I do not know the mechanism, but these flame-sacs help to produce the ichor that the dragons use to make fire. One-Eye managed to score a good bite and I fear that the ichor has become infected, and is infecting the rest of Zenema’s blood.”
“But how could it get infected so quickly?”
“It is one of the traits of the wild dark dragons,” Mother Gorlas explained. “Their bites are often infectious, and I believe that One-Eye knew that this might be her strength against the bigger dragon. But there is hope. If I can draw the infection out, and purify the queen’s blood, then I believe Zenema’s body will start to heal.”
Mother Gorlas rolled another of the tapes over the dragon’s neck. It steamed as it flattened into place over scales and other bandages beneath. The smell of the herbs filled my nostrils, reminding me of pine forests and spring mornings.
“I am using what I can of my supplies, but I have to warn you, sire, that once they are gone it will take many days to restock them and there are other wounded riders and dragons to tend from the battle.”
“And more battles to come, as well,” I said hesitantly.
“Indeed,” Mother Gorlas nodded. “What would you have me do?”
How did I know? I sighed, looking up at the stars that were starting to come out and the black shapes that crossed them unexpectedly and suddenly. I tried to put all of the demands in order.
Zenema’s injuries.
The wounded and homeless of Kingswood.
Convincing Chief Vere that I had the strength to lead.
Defending us all against King Enric.
It was overwhelming, but one thing was abundantly clear.
“Spare nothing for Queen Zenema,” I said quickly. “Whatever it takes, if it takes all of your supplies then we have to do it. She is our link to the old world, and she has helped bring us all together.” I looked over at Saffron and Jaydra. And I have no idea what those two will do if they lose their mother.
“As you wish, sire,” Mother Gorlas nodded, securing the bandage, and going back to the start of the four-foot-wide stretch of wound, and checking the oldest wraps. “Dry as a bone,” she huffed, stripping off the used compresses to take back to boil in the cauldron, and return, imbued with more goodness.
“If you can describe what herbs you need, I will try to gather some more,” I said.
Mother Gorlas paused for a moment to stare at me. “You need to sleep as well, and Zenema is fine enough for the moment. The morning is soon enough, I think.”
I nodded, suddenly aware of how tired and weary I was. I hadn’t realized how much the king-dragon ability took out of me, despite the fact that it hadn’t worked. I felt drained of energy and fight and knew that if I didn’t rest, then I would probably collapse anyway.
“Post a watch,” I mumbled, and one of the nearest of the Three Rivers riders, not one of Chief Vere’s men, I made sure, nodded.
“As you say, sire,” the rider agreed, turning to bark the orders further down the camp of the wounded, the refugees, and the lost.
15
Saffron, the Voice of the King
“Saffron? Saffron, come quick!” I heard a voice that sounded like Bower, but I wasn’t sure. I had fallen asleep, wrapped in Jaydra’s wings against Zenema as Mother Gorlas had started to treat Zenema’s wounds. I was so worried about her, never had I known as much grief and fear, and it felt like the whole war with Enric was becoming even more terrifyingly real.
“Saffron, over here. We have found something that can save the white!” The voice called again, and I struggled blearily up from Jaydra’s side as she snorted and snuffled in her sleep beside me. I didn’t want to wake her, knowing how worried she was for her mother.
Bower would only wake me if there was something really important, I thought, creeping out from the circle of Jaydra’s body and towards the direction of the voice. All around us were the great bonfires, which were tended by guards on their stools or shields. I passed by the nearest one: a Three Rivers rider.
“Have you seen Lord Bower?” I whispered to the large warrior, but he only snored softly, slumped on his hands, and dozing.
Great, I thought, about to prod him awake when the voice came again, breaking my concentration.
“Saffron? Hurry. We have found it, the cure!” It was definitely Bower’s voice this time, and I hurried past the sleeping guard and the bonfire towards the first of the dozing island dragons, a distant nephew of Jaydra and one of Ysix’s brood. That was when I noticed that Ysix too was similarly sleeping, up on the hillside, her breath sending great clouds into the air.
I started to feel a little nervous. Bower’s voice was coming from the ruins of Kingswood itself. No one had
gone up there since the king had destroyed it. No one except One-Eye and Zenema, that is. Why would Bower go up into the ruins of a deserted and destroyed village? I wondered, turning to look back the way that I had come.
Oh no. Below me lay the battlefield-slope where the dragons and the humans before them had fought. The great body of Zenema lay at its end, with a circle of bonfires encircling her body. Around the bonfires were the humans, and none of them looked to be moving. Each and every one was hunched in their seats as the first guard I had walked past. How could they all be asleep like this? Out here, on the very edge of the king’s territory where we might be discovered at any hour?
It wasn’t even just the guards, it was the dragons too, they were all asleep below. Something wasn’t right at all.
“Saffron!” The voice said again, and this time I knew that it wasn’t Bower. Not at all. A chill spread up through me, and the night went even darker as a shadow passed over the stars.
Down below, the collected people turned over in their sleep, suddenly disturbed, and the island and wild dragons twitched and let out little chirrups in anxiousness. This felt wrong. Fear pooled and rose in the sleeping camp below, causing more groans as people cried out in bad dreams.
A high and loud shriek came from behind me in the ruins of Kingswood—the voice of a child, now, and one in mortal danger. I knew that this could be a trick of some kind. The voices I heard in my dreams where not always my dragon-sisters or the imaginings of my own mind. But what could I do? If there was even the possibility that someone was hurt, then I had to do what I could to remedy it.
Below I heard the guards muttering in confusion as they woke from their strange slumbers, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before they came to investigate the scream. But I couldn’t wait.
Saffron? Den-sister? It was Jaydra.
I am here, in the village! A child is hurt! I called to her in my mind as I hurdled the crumbling remains of the stone wall that had been demolished in the battle of Kingswood. No house stood with four walls, and no window or doorway still held glass or wood. Instead, it was all blackened and dark, and smelling of soot and embers.
Why was I asleep? What power was over us? Jaydra roared, and a part of my mind felt her shaking herself and leaping into the air to find me. I rounded the corner of one of the ruined streets and skidded to a halt, my feet sending sprays of ash into the moonlight.
There, on the ground, was the child—a child I knew—unconscious with a gash on his forehead.
“Tan?” I said, bewildered. It was the serving boy who had been assigned to me at the Three Rivers camp. I had forgotten all about him in our race to recruit the Stone Tooth people, and had assumed that he must be safely back at the main camp. If I had thought for a moment that he was in danger, on the frontline, I would have sent him away if I could.
“Saffron?” said a different voice said. Tan was not alone. From the shadows, two figures emerged to stand over the boy. One was almost twice the height of a man, his body reflecting the odd embers still smoldering in the village—one of the Iron Guard that must’ve been left here by the king’s forces, hidden in the rubble and ruins. It was obviously the source of Tan’s wound. But it wasn’t even the golem that I was worried about particularly, it was the other, much larger shape behind it. The one that curled and entwined itself back through the ruined village, low on its belly and hissing like a snake.
One-Eye. She had crawled back to finish the job.
The wild dragon of dark hissed, dragging another paw forward. She moved like a hunting cat, slowly and low, dragging her belly across burnt stone and cindered wood alike. Her eye glittered malevolently at me, totally ignoring the Iron Guard or the boy at my side. But it wasn’t just her size that was impressive, it was the chill of Enric’s magic over her that I felt just as if I were near him. I could see that she was panting, her hot breath steaming the cold night in great clouds, but she appeared electrified all the same, her one eye darting this way and that, moving as if heedless of the wounds that she had suffered earlier in the fight with Zenema.
Enric has infused her with his magic, I knew, suddenly. The same horrible, sick-in-the-stomach feeling I felt around the Iron Guard, I now felt around Queen One-Eye too. Maybe that was why the king’s forces left the Iron Guard hidden here, so that the king could use it to amplify his influence, take control of One-Eye?
But her body was still panting for air. She’s wounded, badly, I thought.
“Saffron! Come quickly!” said the almost-Bower like voice once again from none other than the Iron Guard’s open and hollow visor, just like I had once heard the king’s own voice echoing from them.
It was a trick, just as I had suspected. They had lured me here, using Bower’s voice and little Tan as bait. The king must have left this Iron Guard in the ruins, maybe buried under the wreckage for just this opportunity. I thought all of this in a flash as I took a step backward, keeping my eyes on One-Eye as I did so. I didn’t know where the wild queen figured into all of this, or how King Enric had convinced her to work with him, but it seemed that our enemies had joined forces, and that could mean the end of us all.
The sky was split by Jaydra’s war-cry, as she flew low like an attacking crow, flaring her claws out towards One-Eye. Jaydra was much smaller than the wild queen, but she was also much quicker. She managed to rake her talons across One-Eye’s back before the dark dragon turned and bit upwards.
“Sister!” I shouted, just as Jaydra managed to spin out of the way, rising into the air before she took another turn to return the attack. Could little Jaydra defeat a queen dragon? A ferocious wild dragon of dark, at that?
“Sssaffron. You came, at lassst.” This time the voice that emerged from the Iron Guard’s helmet was not the imitation-Bower, it was the king’s own voice. He was controlling this metal golem here, in this ruined village many hundreds of leagues away from the citadel.
“Leave this place!” I snarled at it. “And release the child. Your metal man and one dragon alone cannot defeat us!”
“But Sssaffron, I did not come to fight you. I jussst want to taaalk.”
I saw in horror that the metal man, it’s armor burnt and scorched and hollow inside was widening its arms and marching towards me in mimicry of a long-lost friend opening his arms for an embrace. The gesture, coming from one of the things that I had seen kill, torment, and destroy innocents and dragons alike made me feel sick.
It also made me feel very angry. Very angry indeed. Power started to rise from the stones of the earth into the soles of my feet, and up my calves.
“Get back,” I shouted as it stepped over Tan’s body and kept walking.
“But I love you, Sssaffron!” The twisted, echoing voice of the possessed golem said, striding closer. “You are a Maddox, my kin. You belong with meeee.”
My body trembled with emotion so intense that I could not even tell if it was fear or fury. The golem blocked out the sight of the battle raging beyond it, between my dragon-sister and the larger queen, and the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, muting the alarm calls of the dragons and the Three Rivers riders outside.
“Thatssss it child, come to meee,” the iron golem simpered.
I won’t let that foul thing touch me, I thought as the fear and fury melded into one. My hand rose of its own accord, glowing and boiling with magical energy, palm open in a straight-out shove.
There was a crack so loud and a flash of light so bright that I thought that somehow we must have been hit by lightning where we stood, although I was in no pain whatsoever. The Iron Guard was thrown back by the lightning-blow, with an ugly rent in the thing’s breastplate just as if it had been hit by a cannon. It spun through the air and crashed into the remaining wall of a building, which collapsed on it in a cloud of stone and dust.
Good, I thought, noticing how my wrist and hand now glowed with tendrils of what looked like fire entwining around it. Why doesn’t that hurt? I looked at my glowing arm and hand. I could feel nothing, no pain
, no cold from the night air, and no tiredness.
“Saffron? Turn back!” a voice said. It was a voice I knew, but I couldn’t quite place just who it was. I had the oddest sensation that it must be my sister, but of course I had no sister. No human sister, a dark part of my mind corrected, a part I wasn’t even sure belonged to me at all. What was happening to me? How could Enric make me have such terrible thoughts?
I felt like I was watching my body from afar. Had the Iron Guard somehow injured me? I raised my glowing hands, burning with eldritch energy, ready to fire them at the place where the Iron Guard must be buried.
That was when I realized I was flying, my body was floating a few feet off of the ruined earth. Others were nearing me, shadows and shapes in the sky, and I wondered if they were enemies.
They can only be enemies, a dark part of me thought, and I knew that it was the part that was always angry, and always powerful. All I have are enemies. People who do not understand me, or who want me to be theirs, or who do not listen to me. Everyone is an enemy…
I raised my glowing hands towards the dragons that wheeled and flew in the sky above the city, ready to fire my hatred out at them all.
“Saffron!” a male voice called, a voice I was sure I should know.
I turned, just as something hit me very hard, and everything went black.
16
Bower, Who We Can Save
Looking down at Saffron’s supine body on the ground before me, I couldn’t believe what I had just done. In my hands I still held the lump of blackened wood that I used to hit her over the head, and I dropped it as if the thing were alive.
But the lights that had been racing up and down her arms had gone out, along with the terrible sense of wrongness in my gut. The light had looked like a purplish fire, tiny rivulets of energy that converged onto her hands, and I had seen her blow a hole clear through that Iron Guard just a second before.
Dragons of Dark (Upon Dragons Breath Trilogy Book 3) Page 11