Legacy of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  “That is not a helpful suggestion, Elddreki,” Kincaid snapped, angrier than Jocelyn had ever heard him with the dragon.

  “Hm.” Elddreki turned his head—and his discomfiting scrutiny—onto Kincaid for a moment. “You had it too just then. It doesn’t hang about you the way it does about Jocelyn, but you had it for a moment, when you spoke.”

  “Had what?” Kincaid said harshly, still scowling.

  “The quality that is not part of Jocelyn’s power, but that entangles itself with her power almost every time she uses it,” the dragon explained patiently. “I think it is the blockage that is preventing her from learning to control it.”

  Kincaid didn’t respond. His eyes remained on Jocelyn, and he was clearly uninterested in Elddreki’s theories. After a moment the dragon pushed himself fluidly to his feet, shaking out his wings in a sudden motion that almost knocked Jocelyn and Kincaid flat with the wind it created.

  “I would be pleased to begin our travels for the day,” he said cheerfully, as though Jocelyn wasn’t close to tears and Kincaid wasn’t glowering at her. “I confess, I am almost impatient. We are so close to the sea, and I have longed to see it these two hundred years or more.”

  Without waiting for a response, he ambled down toward the loch, leaving the two humans alone.

  Jocelyn could feel Kincaid’s eyes on her, and she could sense his continued displeasure, but she refused to meet his gaze. She kept her eyes on Elddreki, who had dipped his head into the water and was drinking deeply.

  “What were you thinking, Jocelyn?”

  Jocelyn frowned at Kincaid’s tone. He had no right to dictate, or to criticize, her actions.

  “My thoughts are my own business, Kincaid. That’s why they’re thoughts instead of words.”

  “Jocelyn.” His hand shot out and grasped her arm, his grip uncomfortably tight. “Tell me you’re not thinking about it.”

  Jocelyn turned to him, startled by the sudden movement. She met his gaze at last and saw something more than anger there. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  “Relax, Kincaid,” she said dully. “I’m not going to take my own life. I would never do such a thing.” He relaxed slightly, the fear in his eyes ebbing away, and Jocelyn felt her anger mounting. “Honestly, I’m offended you would think even for a moment that I might.”

  Kincaid let go of her, shrugging. “Is it so unreasonable for me to think it? You were apparently ready to forfeit your power.”

  “That’s completely different,” Jocelyn argued. She looked away from him again, her voice dropping to a mutter. “I still don’t see why it would be so bad.”

  “Of course it would be bad!” Kincaid protested. “You’d be losing a part of yourself. A crucial, central, precious part.”

  “It’s not precious to me,” said Jocelyn stubbornly. “Think how much safer Kyona would be without it. And if that doesn’t matter to you, think how much safer Valoria would be.” Her voice cracked. “The Valorian royals don’t even have the slightest idea of the danger I pose to them.”

  “Nonsense,” said Kincaid briskly. “For such an intelligent person, you say some incredibly stupid things.” Jocelyn scowled, but he pushed on, unrepentant. “Forget about it, Joss. If you claim you’d never end your life, then you shouldn’t consider forfeiting your power. You heard Elddreki—the dragons who forfeited their power died.”

  “But they were dragons,” said Jocelyn quickly. “They died because magic is their lifeblood—they can’t and shouldn’t survive without it. Whereas I shouldn’t even have it. I would probably be fine if I forfeited mine,” she added optimistically.

  “Probably?” Kincaid was less impressed than ever. “That’s quite a gamble to take with your life.” His voice turned hard. “I would never let you do it, not in ten centuries.”

  Jocelyn raised an eyebrow. “Who says you could stop me? What would it have to do with you?”

  “Jocelyn.” The fear was back in Kincaid’s eyes, but the determination was stronger. “I wouldn’t care what I had to do, or how interfering you thought I was being. I wouldn’t let you do it.” He gave her a look. “Besides, who would you forfeit it to? Elddreki said it warps the receiver as well as the giver.”

  Jocelyn shrugged. “Maybe I’d give it to you, to punish you for being such a busybody.” Kincaid just rolled his eyes, and her tone became more serious. “I thought if I gave it to a dragon, it might not warp anyone. Dragons are the ones who are supposed to have magic.”

  “Elddreki said it himself, Jocelyn,” said Kincaid. “You didn’t steal your magic. You are supposed to have it.”

  Jocelyn just shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I don’t know how to do it, and you heard Elddreki. No dragon is going to teach me.”

  She turned to greet Elddreki, who was returning from the loch, and Kincaid let the matter drop. They packed up camp quickly, all of them eager to be on their way.

  “So you’re finally starting to experience impatience, Elddreki,” Kincaid joked as he threw Jocelyn into the saddle. She was still avoiding his gaze. “You’re almost human, in fact.”

  Elddreki smiled in detached acknowledgment of the absurdity of Kincaid’s jest.

  “Will it bother you to move at our pace all the way along the loch, though?” Kincaid asked, genuine curiosity in his voice. “Wouldn’t you rather fly ahead and get to the sea more quickly?”

  “Of course not,” said Elddreki placidly. “You are my companions on this quest. It has always been my intention to stay with you as we travel.”

  “Except for when you sent Jocelyn into a dangerous town alone at night,” muttered Kincaid, and Jocelyn rolled her eyes.

  “Are you never going to let that go?” she shot at Kincaid, before turning to the dragon, who was ambling beside the trotting horses. She gave him a considering look. “But can’t dragons fly extremely quickly? My father told me that when you came to his aid, the day he reclaimed the throne, you must have traveled from the mountains to Kynton in a matter of minutes.”

  “That is correct,” said Elddreki comfortably. “We can fly at such a speed as to be almost invisible to humans, if we were to wish it.”

  “That’s ironic,” chuckled Kincaid, and even Jocelyn smiled at the contradiction.

  “Why?” asked Elddreki.

  “Well,” Jocelyn started, then paused. If dragons were so wise, why were things that were so obvious to humans so confusing to Elddreki? “It’s just humorous to us, I guess, that immortal dragons, who have all the time in the world, and are never in a hurry to do anything or get anywhere, can move at lightning speed if they choose. But humans, who according to you are always in a hurry, are restricted to a pretty slow pace, all things considered.”

  Elddreki cocked his head to one side, considering her words. “Yes,” he said at last. “I can see the humor in that.”

  “If you can fly so fast you’re barely visible,” Kincaid cut in, “and if you can sense where dragons have been, couldn’t you have done this quest yourself, any time you like? Why did you need Jocelyn’s help? You could’ve flown all over Valoria in a matter of days, sniffing around for dragons. You could have completed the quest much more quickly.”

  Elddreki gave an indulgent chuckle, the sound guttural and strange. “Humans,” he said to himself. “So wise at times, but so foolish.”

  The dragon fell silent, and it seemed he didn’t intend to give any further answer. Jocelyn and Kincaid exchanged a long-suffering look, and the Valorian sighed.

  “Why am I so foolish, Elddreki?” he prompted.

  “Hm?” Elddreki looked over at him, his expression vague. “Oh. You are foolish because you assume the speed at which I complete my quest is somehow an indication of its success. I do not believe there is any particular link between the two features.”

  Jocelyn couldn’t quite resist sending a smirk Kincaid’s way. There was no denying it was satisfying when the dragon put the confident young Valorian in his place. But Elddreki’s next words wiped th
e smile away instantly.

  “If I had not waited, but had attempted the quest on my own, I would not have met Jocelyn, for example. And that would be a loss indeed. Her powers are fascinating, and my attempt to unlock their mystery has engrossed my mind quite as much as my own search. I could be mistaken, but I have the sense that she is instrumental, I could say crucial, to the heart of my quest. Perhaps it is because her power is change, but there is a flavor about her—as though her very existence might change everything.”

  Jocelyn looked up into the beast’s eyes. She was unnerved, to say the least, by this calmly delivered assessment. It was no surprise to find the dragon staring at her unblinkingly. Her eyes slid involuntarily over to Kincaid. He was watching her with equal focus, his expression hard to read.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” he said unexpectedly, his voice quiet and intense.

  Jocelyn swallowed uncomfortably, tearing her gaze from his with an effort. “The two of you sound like superstitious old housewives,” she said lightly. Neither of her companions responded, and she could still feel both pairs of eyes trained on her.

  “If we want to get to Arinton this week, we’d better pick up the pace.” This time she didn’t wait for a reply, just spurred her horse forward into a canter.

  For several hours, they rode in silence along the loch, Elddreki remaining on the ground with them. The ground sloped up, and soon they were riding some distance above the water’s edge. A rocky cliff dropped down on their right into the water below, the yellow flowers somehow clinging onto life in its cracks. On the far bank, Jocelyn could see that the ground sloped more gently down to the edge of the loch, covered with summer grass and the occasional patch of dense vegetation. The sky was clear, and the climbing sun made the water sparkle and dance, steely gray turning to a deep, mesmerizing blue. It reminded Jocelyn of the royal color of Kyona, strong and timeless and comforting.

  The further they traveled, the more clearly they could see the town of Arinton, growing as they approached it. Its gray stone buildings were perched right on the water’s edge, at the base of a small hill that rose gently up to hide the sea Jocelyn knew would be found beyond. It was picturesque, the foliage growing more thickly around it, with trees right up to the water’s edge. Sound carried through the still air, and they could hear the happy noises of village life well before they reached the first stone house.

  “What are you thinking?”

  Kincaid’s quiet voice startled Jocelyn. She had slowed to a trot as the town grew close, but she hadn’t realized Kincaid had drawn his horse so close alongside hers. She turned to see him looking at her, his earlier look of intensity gone, and the normal friendly smile in his eyes.

  She smiled back. “I was thinking it’s beautiful.” She swept out an arm, encompassing the loch, the countryside, and the town. “All of it.”

  Kincaid’s eyes crinkled with his grin. “Is that a confession? Have I fulfilled my promise?”

  She chuckled. “Not quite. Some beautiful countryside, friendly markets, and a picturesque town on an unusual deep sea inlet don’t make Valoria a wonderful kingdom.”

  “Whew.” Kincaid’s face fell comically. “It takes a lot to impress you, clearly.”

  “Of course,” she said archly. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten the North Wilds.”

  “I don’t know,” said Kincaid. His words were light, but some of the intensity was back in his eyes, and Jocelyn felt suddenly wary. “Not all of the North Wilds was bad. I was very taken with Dragoncave, myself.”

  His eyes were still on her, and with annoyance Jocelyn felt her face heating. Her skin felt the ghost of a memory, her arms pressed against his side, her head cushioned on his shoulder.

  “You must be somehow changing my nature,” said Elddreki brightly, making Jocelyn jump. The dragon had appeared on her other side, in his usual impossibly stealthy way. “Not only did I feel a flicker of impatience this morning, but now I almost feel excitement.”

  His eyes were trained on the town ahead, and following his gaze, Jocelyn saw tiny forms racing between buildings. She had been distracted by the conversation with Kincaid, but she realized now that startled cries were carrying across the clear day. The dragon had obviously been spotted.

  “It is entertaining,” Elddreki commented. “The humans we encounter always react so strongly to my presence. No one seems surprised to see you, Jocelyn, but if they only knew it, you are much more rare than I am.”

  Jocelyn squirmed uncomfortably, conscious of Kincaid’s eyes still on her. “So you’re excited to see the sea, Elddreki?” she tried.

  “Not just the sea,” Elddreki corrected. “Also the dragons.”

  “So you really think we’ll find dragons here?” Kincaid asked curiously. “I mean, it was just a hunch, wasn’t it?”

  “It is no longer just a hunch,” said Elddreki. “I think we are very likely to find dragons. When I drank from the loch this morning, I could detect a lingering taste of their magic. Whether that is simply because they once visited this place, or because the water of the loch connects to the sea where they are still to be found, remains to be seen.”

  It took Elddreki a moment to realize that both humans were staring at him. He tilted his head questioningly.

  “You sensed dragon magic at the loch?” Kincaid asked. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “What do you mean?” asked Elddreki. “I just did tell you.”

  Jocelyn smiled, shaking her head slightly at Kincaid. She was becoming less and less surprised by the dragon’s peculiar ways.

  But Kincaid wasn’t looking at her or at the dragon, his eyes directed ahead and a faint crease on his forehead. He suddenly reached over and put his hand on her mare’s rein, pulling both horses to a stop. Following his gaze, she saw why.

  The companions had almost reached Arinton, and word of the dragon’s approach had clearly spread rapidly. This time there was no running, no hiding. A group of grim-faced townsfolk had assembled, forming an organized guard, their arms folded and their eyes on Elddreki. The message was clear without the need for words.

  The way was barred.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Kincaid drew his horse even closer to Jocelyn’s, his hand still on her reins.

  “It’s fine, Kincaid,” she whispered, and he shot her a sharp look. She nodded toward the townspeople. “No weapons. Look.”

  He followed her gaze, and his grip slackened as he seemed to realize she was right. Whether it was because they didn’t have bows and arrows, or because they understood the invulnerability of dragons better than the residents of Thalia had, the people of Arinton were making no attempt to defend their town with force. They simply stood, silent and expectant, watching Elddreki with unwavering focus.

  A glance at Elddreki showed him sitting back on his haunches, his head angled ever so slightly to the side as he took in the human barrier in front of him. Suddenly a ripple seemed to pass through the crowd. The clump of people parted, and a middle-aged man with short grizzled hair and a thick beard strode through. He had clearly hurried to get there, but his steps were stately and confident.

  He reached the front of the crowd and bowed low. Elddreki, to whom the gesture was clearly directed, acknowledged the bow with a gracious nod of his head.

  “Mighty Dragon,” the man said, his voice deep and pleasant. “We are honored at your presence. We hope you come to us in peace.”

  “I do,” said Elddreki solemnly.

  The man straightened from the bow, and there was a collective release in tension from the group. Some of them uncrossed their arms, and a few pairs of eyes flicked curiously toward Kincaid and Jocelyn before returning quickly to the dragon. Jocelyn thought Kincaid seemed ill-at-ease, fidgeting a little on his horse and shooting surreptitious looks at her, although she couldn’t imagine why. Honestly, he was almost as overprotective as her father sometimes. It was as clear as day these people meant them no harm.

  “Then you are very welcome, Sire,” the man wa
s continuing.

  “Thank you,” said Elddreki with great dignity.

  The humor of the situation suddenly struck Jocelyn, and she raised a hand quickly to her face to stifle a giggle. Kincaid looked at her, raising an inquiring eyebrow.

  “He’s just very regal, isn’t he?” she whispered, tilting her head toward Elddreki. “It’s so much like my father being received in some outlying town in Kyona.”

  He chuckled. “Welcome to the eastern district. Anything mythical is royalty.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You’re still saying it mockingly. You do realize you’re here with a dragon, right? The easterners are at the very least right about him being real.”

  Kincaid just grimaced, his eyes scanning the crowd, still not looking entirely comfortable.

  “I apologize that you have not been more properly received,” the spokesman was saying. “A message has been sent to the manor, but the lord who oversees these lands is most unfortunately in Bryford at present. I am the mayor,” the man bowed low again, “and I am honored to make you welcome in his lordship’s absence. It will take a matter of days for a messenger to reach and recall his lordship, but…”

  “This is ridiculous,” Kincaid muttered. “We’re not interested in pomp and ceremony. We just want to find the dragons.”

  Jocelyn shot him a quelling look. Kincaid might think it was stupid, but she understood the importance of respecting the customs of these people. No one would benefit from them alienating the locals.

  “It is not necessary to summon the lord of the manor,” Elddreki was responding calmly. “My companions and I do not intend to stay long on your lands.”