House of Blood and Bone

by Kimberley J. Ward

  “Won’t the other Dragon Riders be able to sense me?” Nessa asked. “You know, since the king seems to be able to, in a way.”

  “King Kaenar is old, powerful and cunning,” Chaos said. “But there are limits to his knowledge. He may be able to sense that there is soon to be a powerful Old Blood, but that is probably the extent of it. He won’t yet know who they are, what they are or where they are. Not yet, at least. At the moment, you are practically invisible to him.”

  “But that won’t last for much longer,” Orm added.

  Nessa frowned. “Because of this ‘coming of age’ thing that keeps being mentioned?”

  “When an Old Blood reaches the age of eighteen or so,” Orm said, “their power, which has slowly been building up since birth, surfaces. Basically, they ‘come of age’ when their power surfaces and they can use it fully.”

  “And I haven't ‘come of age’ yet?”

  “Not yet.”

  “But I will soon?”

  “We have a few months, by my guess,” Chaos answered, “which is why we need to go to Ellor while we can. Otherwise, the king will easily learn of your presence, and we will have missed our only opportunity to find out what the king is doing.”

  “Well,” Nessa murmured, “I suppose we should make the most of the limited time we have.”

  Hunter’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing into the mop of messy curls that trailed over his forehead. “You actually want to go to the capital, to perhaps the most dangerous place for you to be? Where there isn’t just one Dragon Rider there, but seven?”

  “If Chaos thinks it’s the safest place for us, then yes, I’m all for going to Ellor,” Nessa argued. “You—we—might be able to learn something useful. And don’t look so gutted, you looked excited a moment ago at the prospect of spying on the king.”

  “Indeed I did,” Hunter admitted.

  “What about you?” Nessa asked, gazing up at Orm. He sat leaning forwards, elbows propped on his knees, his hands held together in a thoughtful manner. At Nessa’s enquiry, Orm’s eyes darted amongst her, Chaos and Hunter.

  “The idea does have many benefits,” he admitted. “But it also has many risks.”

  “Every path we choose is filled with risks and rewards,” Chaos said dismissively. “The benefits of going to Ellor now outweigh the risks. If you have any hope of Nessa defeating the king, then you have to learn as much as possible about his stronghold whilst you can.”

  “That’s a valid point,” Hunter said. “We do need to learn everything we can. It will be of use to us later on.”

  “I’m so glad you agree with me,” Chaos said dryly. “I can now die happily with the knowledge that a human approves of my plan. My life goal is now complete.”

  Hunter glared at him. “You son of a bi—”

  “So,” Nessa turned to Orm, ignoring Hunter and Chaos’ quarrelling, “are you in agreement with going to the capital?”

  “I’d hate to get in the way of a unanimous vote,” Orm said, raising his voice to be heard over the death threats that were being hurled across the campfire. “So I guess we’ll be going to the city of Ellor.”

  Chapter 8

  Having come to some kind of tentative agreement over their course, Nessa and her companions were swift to settle down for the night, eager for a decent amount of sleep before they departed in the morning. With Chaos unable to locate Shadow, it was deemed too much of a risk to linger any longer. They wanted to leave before their camp was discovered. Nessa, doubtful she’d be able to make it any great distance, had voiced her worry. The others didn’t seem too concerned, saying that covering even a couple of miles was better than nothing.

  Burrowing deeper into her sleeping bag, Nessa pulled it tight around her shoulders. There was a chill in the air that not even the tent’s thick canvas could keep out. After realising she had most of the camp’s blankets, Nessa had given them back to Hunter, seeing as he didn’t have a sleeping bag anymore. He’d taken them, but only after Nessa had insisted she’d be warm enough in the sleeping bag and in her loaned clothes. She may have been wrong. The cold air seemed determined to caress the back of Nessa’s neck no matter what she did.

  Sleep was elusive, and Nessa’s mind drifted, restless and more than willing to dwell on the matter of the king.

  Hunter, Orm and Chaos unanimously agreed with each other that King Kaenar was someone Nessa didn’t want to cross paths with. But why? What kind of threat could she, a seventeen-year-old girl with no memories, pose against him? Her dragon was young and she herself was still months away from coming into her Old Blood powers. Did being an Old Blood really warrant a death sentence? Nessa had done nothing wrong. She had not broken any laws or hurt anyone. It was daunting to think that the most powerful man in the world would have her killed simply because of the blood that ran through her veins.

  Nessa rolled onto her side, troubled.

  The others said the king would kill her simply for existing, but would he really? For all she knew, she could march right up to him, and he’d welcome her with open arms. Did Nessa have any right to kill him over something he might do? It sat uneasily with her that she had to rely on other people’s words, even if they were her friends.

  Nessa wanted her memories back.

  She needed them back.

  Chaos seemed inclined to believe that they were gone for good, but the little creature from the river appeared to disagree. Was there a way for Nessa to regain her memories? Could she use magic or witchcraft or…or…sorcery?

  Outside, the fire was burning low, ruddy light brushing against the canvas of her tent. Nessa watched the dance of shadows for a time. Aoife was asleep, curled up in her nest of flattened earth, her thoughts slow and soothing against the edge of Nessa’s mind. Naturally, Nessa assumed that the others would be asleep as well, so it came as a surprise when she spied movement.

  Propping herself up on an elbow, Nessa observed their dark shape tiptoeing past her tent, heading out into the surrounding forest, moving as silently as a ghost. She waited for them to return, thinking that if it was Hunter or Orm, she might call out to them and spend a few minutes in their company. Perhaps they knew a trick or two to help quieten a noisy mind. As time passed, though, measured by the steady beat of Nessa’s heart and the crackle of the fire, she grew concerned.

  Concern soon gave way to suspicion.

  Who was creeping around an eerie forest in the middle of the night?

  Wide-eyed and with a great deal of caution, Nessa poked her head out of the tent. She saw nothing stirring in the gloom. The campsite was still and calm, bathed in muted darkness, the circle of firelight only just reaching to the tents. Nessa crawled forwards with as much stealth as possible, grabbing her overcoat as she did so, and stood. She wrapped the overcoat around her like a capelet, the velvet warm and heavy on her shoulders, staying off the cold. With her gaze darting all over the place, Nessa inched closer to the other tents.

  The nearest one, which belonged to Hunter and Orm, appeared to be occupied. Twin snores could be faintly heard, and the bottom edge of the tent bulged outwards as someone was squished against it.

  “If they’re there,” Nessa murmured, “then the creeper is…” Her eyes landed on Chaos’ tent.

  Listening for the faintest sound of rustling leaves or footsteps, anything that might indicate that someone, namely Chaos, was approaching, Nessa made her way over to the tent. She used her foot to nudge the door flap aside, and when she saw no one in there, she reached down and pulled it back completely.

  Chaos definitely wasn't there. His sleeping bag was in disarray and his bag a mess, clothing spilling out in a jumbled puddle. It looked like he’d made a half-hearted attempt at shoving some of it back in. About to let go of the tent’s door flap, Nessa paused. The campfire’s light glinted dully on a partially covered object. Curious, Nessa crouched down and reached out, pushing aside the tangle of socks and sleeves that were trying to conceal it.

  Heavy and made from metal, Nessa at
first thought that it was a small box. She balanced it on her knees as she ran her fingers over the top, feeling etched details that were impossible to see in the gloom. As her fingers moved around to the box’s sides, the metal gave way to a soft, uneven surface. Nessa turned the box and realised that she was holding a very peculiar book.

  Soft, vellum pages sat between the metal covers, their edges worn with age and use. Sections of the book were comprised of pages varying in thickness and size, thus explaining the uneven texture. It was as if bits and pieces had been added slowly over time. An odd lock held the covers closed, keeping the pages pressed tightly against one another, not allowing the book to be opened even a fraction of an inch. Nessa didn’t have the faintest idea of what might be written on those rough pages.

  “What a strange thing,” Nessa whispered. She rested a hand on its metal cover, her fingers drumming as she turned a contemplative eye to Chaos’ bag. What other intriguing things might he be hiding?

  Nessa didn’t get a chance to find out.

  The book grew hot, the metal almost scalding her palm. Alarmed, Nessa jumped up. It tumbled to the ground, landing with a dull thud. She stared at it, breathing hard, holding her hand to her chest, more in shock than from any real pain. She had relinquished her hold before it could burn her. Wearily, Nessa stood over the book, half-expecting it to burst into flames or for the cover to start glowing red. The book did neither. It lay on the ground just as any normal book would, still and silent, and with no hint of doing anything unusual.

  Nessa didn’t trust it, not one bit. It wasn’t a normal book. It wasn’t normal at all. She didn’t know what the book was about or what it might do next, and before it could give her any more unwanted surprises, she hastily stowed it back in Chaos’ bag and hurried back to her tent. Nessa lingered there just long enough to grab her sleeping bag, and then she crossed over to Aoife on the far side of the campsite.

  Nessa needed her dragon.

  Aoife stirred when Nessa stepped close, her tail moving away from her body and her wing lifting a little.

  What’s wrong, my little Rider? Aoife asked sleepily.

  Nessa ducked under Aoife’s wing and positioned the sleeping bag close to Aoife’s side. She then swiftly snuggled into it, folding the overcoat into a makeshift pillow.

  I can’t sleep, Nessa said, keeping her misgivings to herself. Something about Chaos didn’t bode well with her; something about him and that strange book made her increasingly uneasy. Nessa couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, though.

  Aoife’s tail curled around Nessa and her wing dropped back down, sliding over Nessa to form a living tent. Is something troubling you?

  No, Nessa lied. I’m just excited for tomorrow’s adventure.

  Are you, now? Aoife was barely awake, her words distant and faint. It will be nice to leave this land. Sorrow breeds here. It makes my hide itch.

  What do you mean?

  I don’t know, not really. Something happened here a long time ago. Something terrible and tragic.

  Oh?

  Come, Aoife murmured, let us not dwell on such dark thoughts. We are together and safe. Tonight, we shall sleep and dream of pleasant things.

  Pleasant things, hmm? Like what?

  Like…like…

  Aoife’s thread of consciousness through their bond dwindled to little more than an impression of thoughts, and Nessa realised that Aoife had fallen back to sleep.

  Rolling onto her side and closing her eyes, Nessa tried to quell the whirlwind of questions that grew with each passing hour. She buried her face in her makeshift pillow, the velvet soft and comforting. The scent of the forest still clung to it—earth and moss—and there was an underlying essence of something else, something more familiar: a hint of sandalwood and otherness. Brows furrowed, Nessa breathed it in, wondering if it was just her troubled mind playing tricks on her.

  Did the scent really stir up a memory? A disjointed one filled with sadness and hope, darkness and despair, and the most beautiful blue eyes she’d ever seen?

  ∞∞∞

  They gripped her like talons. Strong. Unyielding.

  And ever so cruel.

  The dreams, the nightmares, swirled around her like a whirlwind, a tornado, a hurricane.

  Nothingness swallowed her whole, heavy and sinister, and filled with mocking laughter.

  A speck of light appeared, small and weak, flickering like a candle flame. She went to run towards it but realised that she couldn’t. She was stuck, trapped, tied down. She struggled and strained against her bonds, but she was only rewarded with the clatter of unbreakable chains.

  The laughter grew louder, a sharp edge entering it, and someone leaned over her, their icy eyes staring into hers, shimmering with madness.

  “Even from the roughest of iron ore,” they whispered, “can the finest blade be made…”

  Chapter 9

  Nessa’s eyes snapped open, wide and staring. Sweat peppered her brow and her heart thundered away, as fast and frantic as a galloping horse. She placed a hand on her chest and struggled to calm herself. The dream, the nightmare, had felt all too real, and it took a few shuddering breaths before Nessa was sure that she was free from it.

  Aoife was curled around Nessa, her wing stretched over the both of them, acting like a tent. Sunlight shone through the membrane, highlighting the tapestry of delicate veins that sat beneath the fine surface. It was just bright enough for Nessa to see, her little space drenched in a deep-purple light.

  Nessa rolled onto her side and jumped, surprised at the sight of a large, slit-pupil eye staring at her from a foot away.

  With a strained chuckle, Nessa tried for a small smile, her thoughts still a little preoccupied by the lingering grip of her nightmare. “I assumed you were asleep.”

  Aoife blinked slowly, as if trying to convey something, the delicate scales around her eye twinkling as they shifted with the movement. Nessa frowned, wondering why Aoife didn’t just speak directly in her mind. Then she realised that Aoife couldn’t. Nessa had shut her out with a wall of amethyst bricks, hiding her thoughts, her feelings behind it, just as Aoife had done before their reunion.

  “Sorry,” Nessa murmured, letting the wall fall away. “I didn’t mean to lock you out.”

  Fear not, Aoife said. You are allowed to have privacy in your own mind when you want to. We don’t want to be in each other’s minds all the time, now, do we?

  I guess not. But surely there’s a happy medium between locking you out completely and sending you every single thought?

  Of course there is. We just need to practice and grow our connection more.

  “Of course,” Nessa muttered, pushing herself up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “Are the others awake?”

  Yes. They have been for almost an hour. I told them you were getting some much-needed rest, so they’ve been as quiet as possible.

  “A shame, then, that my rest wasn’t particularly restful.”

  You only just started to have the nightmare. I was about to wake you, but I didn’t get the chance to.

  “Mmm.”

  Come on, my sleepy little Rider, Aoife said. You’d better get up before the others eat all the food. They’ve already packed most of the camp, and Orm keeps eyeing the food they’ve saved for you.

  “I suppose he won’t be able to resist the temptation for much longer.”

  Probably not, Aoife said, sounding faintly amused. And threatening him wouldn’t do any good. That one has no fear.

  “Oh dear.” Nessa smoothed a hand over her hair, trying to tame some of the wildness that reached past her waist in a dark spill, and tugged at her baggy clothing, hoping to make herself look at least moderately presentable.

  I wouldn’t worry too much about looks. Chaos has wings, Orm’s bald at the grand age of twenty-something and Hunter always has the appearance of one dragged through a hedge backwards.

  “Well, I can’t really worry about my looks all that much considering there’s no mirrors a
round,” Nessa mused as she slipped into the overcoat, which was a little worse for wear after being used as a pillow, crumpled and wrinkled.

  In any event, I’d get a few decent meals in you before you go in search for a mirror, Aoife advised as she pulled back her wing.

  Bright sunlight assaulted Nessa’s eyes, dazzling her for a second, forcing her to squint as they slowly adjusted. She spied Hunter dismantling a tent nearby and Orm sitting by the fire, staring forlornly at a plate of leftover pheasant that was beside him. Both were dressed as they were yesterday, which made her feel slightly less insecure. Hunter still wore his dark tunic and trous, and Orm was dressed in a similar fashion but with his favoured sleeveless top.

  Nessa joined Orm before he had a chance to help himself to her breakfast, picking up the plate and perching on the wooden stool. “If you’re that hungry,” she said, nibbling at a piece of meat, “then you could always whip yourself up some scrambled eggs.”

  Orm shrugged, looking dejected. “I’m not really in a scrambled egg kind of mood.”

  “He’s also already eaten,” Hunter remarked as he grappled with the tent. He’d managed to fold down the frame and tie up the guy lines so that they were out of the way, and was now trying to roll the canvas neatly so that all of it would fit into its valise. He wasn’t having much luck. “Orm, come here and sit on this whilst I do up the bag’s straps. It keeps popping open.”

  Orm sighed theatrically and ambled over to Hunter, begrudgingly lending him a helping hand.

  Nessa looked around, discovering that the other two tents were already packed and sat in a pile with the other supplies, including their blankets and sleeping bags, personal effects and cooking equipment. It appeared that they were almost ready to depart. Strangely enough, Chaos was nowhere to be seen. Nessa wondered if he had even returned from his late-night sneakings.

  Finishing her breakfast, Nessa rose and rinsed her plate off using the waterskin, then crossed over to the pile of bags. It took a bit of rummaging, but Nessa eventually found where the cutlery was stashed, and tucked her plate alongside the others.