Dragon Dreams (The First Dragon Rider Book 2)

by Ava Richardson

  I had to quell a momentary shiver of revulsion as he took my elbow in a perfectly courtier fashion, gliding me as effortlessly as if he were handsomely formed across the marble floors.

  “The Tars are a very successful clan now, princess,” the man said, not in a boastful way, but merely as a statement of fact. “Our territories comprise almost the entire tracts of the Wisewood, down to the Tarl river, and up to the edge of the Fang Mountain.”

  I raised my eyebrows. That was a lot, in comparison to any of the other clans. Most of the mountain folk only controlled their own little mountain valley, or perhaps even just a trail and the few dotted settlements that it connected. But the Tars had managed to hold a large swathe of the low-lying areas around the mountains it seemed, making them, in effect, warlords.

  But not as powerful as the Torvalds of the Middle Kingdom, I thought, hating myself as I even had started to think like my father. Why was he and Odette convinced that I would be better off living up here and marrying Tobin Tar, when at least if I were friends with Torvald, then we would have powerful allies in the Middle Kingdom?

  “Your father is a good prince, Lady Char,” Tobin said, scratching his chin. “If you are concerned about me trying to take his place, or usurp him…”

  “No!” I said quickly, wondering how on earth I was going to get out of this one. “Of course not, Captain Tar, it’s just….”

  I watched as the expression on Tobin Tar’s face, if anything, managed to get worse as he murmured. “Oh, I do beg your pardon, please, forgive me. Your father hasn’t told you, has he?”

  What now? I thought in dismay. “He hasn’t told me what?”

  “About the proposal?” Tar said awkwardly. “I was led to believe by your stepmother and the prince that, were I to offer my proposal for marriage, that they would be delighted to join the Tar Clan to their family.” Tobin pulled an annoyed face, but I could tell that he wasn’t annoyed at me, but at my family.

  “I, uh, I am honored Captain Tar, it is just that…” I started to say, aware of how many eyes were glaring at me (some in hope, others in reproach).

  “No, do not answer me now, princess,” Tar said. “I will not force you into a marriage or into answering a proposal at such short notice. I was led to believe that you knew of this, and even that you were looking forward to your life outside of the monastery here, with me!” he said through slurred lips.

  “I’m sorry, Captain, but this is the first that I have heard of it,” I said. Technically, it wasn’t true, I thought with a grimace, as I had heard of the proposal just yesterday morning – but still… One day was hardly enough to wrap my mind around the idea of marriage, let alone consider the person who was offering it.

  “Well, Lady Bel told me that you had been informed a year ago as to the Tar Clan’s proposal,” Tobin said slowly, attempting to smile but unable to hide his dismay.

  A year? I thought. My stepmother and her band of cronies have been planning to marry me off for over a year now? I felt a sudden flash of white-hot anger. How dare they make such decisions about my life without consulting me? But then again, wasn’t that always what they were doing? It hadn’t been my idea to go to the Draconis Order so many years ago, it had been my father’s.

  Or had Odette been behind that one, as well? I thought in alarm. Maybe she wanted me out of the way so that she could concentrate on controlling all of my father’s affections and power?

  No. I curtseyed at the dismayed lord before me. I must be being paranoid, because my father never paid any attention to me anyway, and regarded me as little more than a playing piece on a chess set.

  Only, I am now one with a dragon. I suddenly had a thought about how to smooth over his hurt feelings.

  “Captain Tar, the problem is not of your doing, or of Lady Bel’s-- it’s just the situation has changed beyond all of our vision right now. I have found out that I am a dragon friend, and now I have her, the Crimson Red, to think about,” not to mention all of the others, I thought but didn’t say. “I’m not free to choose or accept any suitor without consulting my dragon-sister,” I said, surprising myself as I said it. Paxala sometimes called me sister, and it had just fallen from my lips, as natural as stating that I had hair. It felt right as well somehow – the same way that when Monk Feodor called me a dragon friend, it had felt right.

  “Oh, yes, of course, I understand completely,” Tar said with a nod. I could see that he didn’t believe me at all, but that he was willing to believe my excuse as long as it saved him from the hurt and embarrassment of being publicly rejected. “And then I shall leave you to consult with your dragon.” Tar bowed his head sagely, and I felt as if I had only just managed to dodge an arrow. But Tar had something to tell his own courtiers and clan, and I had a little time. Not a lot, I thought as I looked up to see Lady Bel standing by the side of my stepmother’s throne, both women glaring at me. How long did I have before they found out that I had (temporarily) refused Tar?

  “Char?” It was Wurgan, arriving at my side, dressed not in his fineries, but instead in his battle armor. There was a stir of voices around him, as he clearly had a long ax and sword hanging at his side in the Great Hall where it was forbidden.

  “Wurgan? What is it? What is wrong?” I said.

  “It’s the raiders again. They’ve attacked westward along the river from Faldin’s Bridge, and father thinks that it has to be the Dark Prince’s forces in disguise.”

  “Vincent was stationed at Faldin’s Bridge when we came through there.” I nodded. If it were his forces that were behind the raids, then it would make sense that the Dark Prince would take advantage of having so many of his soldiers there at once to keep them up.

  “How bad is it?” I asked of him.

  “Some of our southern farms. Livestock stolen or slaughtered in the fields,” Wurgan growled. “That is why father isn’t here at the dragon’s feast – but he wanted to ask if we could take the dragon. Root out the raiders, and put the fear of the heavens into any of Prince Vincent’s troops that might be thinking about crossing our borders!” Wurgan grinned.

  “I, no…!” I said in alarmed amazement. How could he ask this of me? Why was everyone trying to get me to do things that I didn’t want to do? “I’ve already told father that being a dragon friend doesn’t work the way that he thinks it does. It doesn’t mean that Paxala is just another beast of burden, for me to send out into battle! No – we barely know how even to ride her yet!” My voice rose high enough to earn some worried glances from the other courtiers around us.

  “Well, father guessed that you would say something like that,” Wurgan said darkly, “and that is why he is up on the top of the keep above us right now, trying to persuade your dragon to fight for us.” Wurgan shook his head at our father’s stubbornness. “That is why I am here, Char. I am here to warn you that if that dragon eats or hurts our father – well, then even I won’t be able to stop the Northern Kingdom baying for its blood.”

  All of the blood drained from my face. “Father is seeking to what, employ Pax? On her own? Without even approaching me?”

  I clenched my teeth in a grimace that made even my larger, warlike brother take a step back as I demanded, “Which is the quickest route to the battlements? Now, Wurgan – before father goes and insults a very young and temperamental Crimson Red dragon!” I stamped my foot.

  It was just my father’s style, to go behind my back and arrange things about my life without even talking to me. I’d had enough. Any illusions I had that we might be able to bring the dragons out here from Dragon Mountain, maybe start again far away from Zaxx, were now shattered. Even up here in the Northern Kingdom, things were still terrible. My father wanted a war, just the same as the Middle Kingdom and presumably the Southern Kingdom wanted. When were they ever going to learn?

  Wurgan was nodding toward the nearest servant’s door. “Follow me,” he said, turning as servants and courtiers scattered out from our running feet.

  Wurgan took the narrow steps th
ree at a time, holding his weapons to his hip to avoid them from banging against the stone walls of the narrow stairwell. I could not be so fleet of foot, as I had to hike up my red ballooning dress to my knees in order to run. After we had crossed the second flight of stairs I paused to discard the ridiculous white heeled slippers Odette had wanted me to wear for tonight, and instead ran bare foot-- much faster than I ever could have in that strange footwear.

  When did the northern court become like this? I wondered. When did it become more important who married who and what you wore, rather than what we said to each other and what we felt? It seemed that the decadent ways of the Middle Kingdom court, and of Prince Vincent, had infected all the realms, spreading like a poison through the top tiers of society, making everyone miserable underneath it.

  This is not like my father, I considered as we ran past a third flight of stairs, panting and gasping for air.

  “Odette,” I wheezed, as we passed another bricked up doorway on a landing and kept on going up and up.

  “What was that, sister?” Wurgan said above me, slowing down as even his legs must be starting to feel the exhaustion of our madcap running.

  “It’s Odette,” I repeated. “She’s the one behind all of this.” I pulled a face. “These masks. These fine clothes and balls and arranged marriages…” I had never really trusted my stepmother. Maybe that is a natural feeling for a stepdaughter to have, but now I wondered whether she was a baleful influence on my father, and the realm around him.

  Wurgan said nothing to confirm this – but also nothing to deny it either. “Here.” Wurgan reached the final narrow wooden door, thumping it open with his shoulder to let in a sudden blast of chill mountain air. It was fresh up on top of the keep, and we emerged onto the wide, flat flagstones marked with grasses and mosses and little else. The battlements were high with small stairs leading to walkways where once they would have been manned, but now stood empty. The only shapes in the entire plaza-like area of the roof were the large oak casks of salted and fresh fish, as well as the stacks and piles of straw and deadwood, a prince, and the dragon.

  “Pax?” I said briefly, looking at how she was standing with her head held high over my father, who was imploring her to investigate the fish.

  The Crimson Red made an annoyed churring sound, which I knew was the dragon equivalent of tsking or clicking a tongue. “Little prince wants me to fight.” Her words came into my mind with sudden fierce anger. She was riled and annoyed, and was caught between whether she should take to the skies, or roar at him.

  “No, please don’t do that,” I said, stepping forward across the battlements towards her. “It is okay, father just doesn’t understand the ways of dragons…” I pointed out, but father, ever the astute strategist turned to look at me sharply.

  “You can speak to her, can’t you?” he demanded, his voice sharp, and his blue eyes cold. I squirmed, wondering if I could lie and say that I could read the dragon’s body movements, but it was no use. “It’s true, isn’t it? You have a way of talking to her with your mind?” Father’s eyes were lighting up in a glee that I found faintly disturbing.

  “Char?” Even Wurgan was looking at me oddly, as if I had suddenly managed to grow horns. “Is this true?”

  “Yes,” I said, wondering what this would mean. No one knew that I had this connection to Pax other than Neill. “Yes, I can communicate with Paxala with my mind, in my thoughts,” I said, looking at both of the men with uncertainty.

  “I had thought it a legend,” father said, his voice full of excitement. “This is excellent news, excellent!”

  “It is?” I said awkwardly.

  “Of course! Then you can be my Dragon Commander! You will be able to call to the dragons of the Middle Kingdom to come here, to leave the monastery, and no longer be held hanging over our heads as a threat!” My father was delighted. “You will be able to call the wild dragons, to get them to stop their ravages upon our people, and that will free up our guards and armies from fighting on two fronts….”

  It was too much, I held my hands to my ears and shook my head. “No, no! It doesn’t work like that, father, even if I wanted to – which I don’t. I didn’t come here just to be used by you!” I shouted.

  “The little prince wants to be like the Abbot,” Paxala growled, and I could only agree with her assessment.

  “So, you are telling me that you will not ask your dragon to fight for me, to defend our kingdom with your brother Wurgan here?” my father said in a colder, flat tone of voice, the tone he reserved only for the gravest of violations of his code. “You do know that we are being attacked, every day, all along the coasts? Our people are dying, daughter.”

  I stared at my father, knowing that he was seeing me for the first time. I was no longer the little girl who he could order here and there on his giant chessboard of loyalties and threats. No, he would have to see me as I really was, for what I was.

  And I was not the sort of person to send my friends so easily into war. Not unless our lives were threatened, or the lives of those we loved. There was every reason to assume that this was an overtly strategical skirmish between my Uncle Vincent and my father. It didn’t need to happen, and any lives lost on either side would only exacerbate into a full-blown civil war. At least, that was my thinking at the moment. “No. I will not send or ask Paxala to fight for you,” I said. “And that is that. You will just have to accept that about me, father.”

  I looked at him, and my father stared back at me incredulously. But then his eyes narrowed, and his mouth pursed. “I see,” he said. “Then, if you will not become my Dragon Commander, you will have to marry Captain Tobin Tar, and secure his troops for my realm.” He said this carefully, all trace of his earlier excitement and glee faded, replaced with cold calculation. “You will have to be of use here, Char, or else you will just be another bastard in the line of succession.”

  I opened and closed my mouth, stunned by my father’s callous attitude as he turned and stalked past us both, leaving the dragon and the fish on top of the battlements.

  “Wurgan, come with me. You have to ride out to confront the raiders immediately,” he commanded, not turning to see if my older brother obeyed him or not. Wurgan looked at me, his face alarmed and his eyes full of reproach.

  “Brother?” I said cautiously, unable to keep the hurt from my voice, but Wurgan just shook his head, his eyes wide as if he couldn’t even see me anymore, but that I had become something else; a freak, a monster. He had spent most of his adult life fighting the wild mountain dragons and the people of the south. Now that he knew that his very own sister can communicate with at least one dragon – what did that do to him? Did he hate me now?

  My father hates me now, for sure, I thought as the door clanged behind both of them, leaving me with my dragon on the cold rooftop, but probably because I refused to do what he told me, to let him use me, anymore.

  “Oh Pax,” I muttered. “What have I done?” Waves of self-pity rose up in me.

  “You have become yourself. Do not be sad for that, little Char,” my dragon purred gently in my thoughts in a surprisingly wise way, as she took slow steps towards me, heavily lying herself down, and coiling around me in a wall of scaled tail and legs until I was held in her warm and loving embrace.

  “We should leave this place,” Paxala nudged at my mind after I had stopped crying. How I felt at this very moment, I wasn’t so sure that she was wrong.

  CHAPTER 17

  BLOOD AND BONES

  “Neill, wake up!” I whispered as loud as I dared. It was night, and there was no way I wanted to alert the guard just at the end of the corridor to what I was doing. There were enough bad rumors flying around already about the returned bastard daughter of Prince Lander, without adding to them how she was caught trying to sneak into the Torvald boy’s room.

  But that was precisely what I was doing. I shook my head as I tapped on the door with my fingertips once again. “Neill. Torvald. Move your lazy behind,” I hissed o
nce again through the door, just as there was a muffled thump and a movement from the other side.

  “Char? Am I glad to see you…” the boy opened the door a crack to reveal that he was already dressed, with his dark cloak wrapped around his shoulders and his short sword strapped to his belt. As for me, I was dressed in the functional clothes that I had arrived in (breeches, jerkins, and cloak) as all of the others that Odette had seen to leave for me were ridiculous ball gowns.

  “You’re up?” I said, a little surprised. I was expecting after the ‘dragon feast’ of last night that he would be hard to rouse.

  “I have been for hours, wondering how to contact you,” he said with a grimace, slowly closing the door behind him. “I couldn’t wait any longer, not after what you told me about the vaults, and the old throne room, and then I heard the other servants and guests talking about attacks on the border, and your marriage to some clansman captain.”

  “Tobin,” I said heavily, sensing a slight amount of awkwardness in the air around the subject. “The man from the feast last night. But don’t worry – I’m not going to marry him. Another remarkable idea of my stepmother’s I think.”

  “Oh.” Neill nodded, following me as I indicated the direction that we had to go in to get to the hidden rooms. I could tell that something was bothering him.

  “Out with it, Torvald. What is it? What’s bothering you?” I asked, ducking back to the side of a hanging as we heard footsteps of the guards or servants slowly pacing the halls. It was after the middle of the night, but sometime before dawn, or at least I thought it was. The quietest part of the night, with only those awake who had work to do, or had no business being up and about – like us.