Downfall of the Curse

by Deborah Grace White

  The Thoranian delegation was significantly late in joining them, but Rasad, at its head, looked unhurried as he trotted his mount toward the waiting Kyonans and Valorians. Lucy didn’t miss the scowl Eamon sent in the older man’s direction, but no one commented on how long they had been waiting.

  The Thoranian greeted the royals formally, his eyes sweeping over the assembled party before coming to rest on Lucy. He sent her the smallest of smiles as he exchanged courtesies with Eamon. There was something conspiratorial, almost intimate, in the expression. Lucy felt a strange fluttering in her stomach as she took in once again how handsome the older man really was. She wasn’t sure whether she was more confused or flattered by Rasad’s attention, but the slight scowl on Eamon’s face as he struggled to speak politely to the Thoranian was enough to make her determined to keep her expression level.

  “I have to say, I never imagined I’d actually go to Thorania.” Cody’s cheerful voice cut into her thoughts. Clearly he was oblivious to the subtle interactions going on around him. “Of course,” he continued, “I never expected to be back in the South Lands at all.”

  “You never thought about going over the border when you lived in the jungle?” Matheus asked curiously.

  “Nope,” said Cody. “I had more than enough to occupy me here, with the rebels. There were slaves who got away over the border on occasion.” He nodded toward Lucy. “Like the ones in that book, actually, all those generations ago. I guess it’s not surprising.”

  “What book?” asked Matheus, but Lucy hurried to talk over him, not wanting to tell him about the journal for some reason. Illogically, she felt that it was hers, and she didn’t want to share it. Plus she wasn’t sure she wanted Cody to know she’d taken it from the base tree.

  “How long does it take to get to the border, Cody? Do you know?”

  “We will be there not long after nightfall.” Rasad’s smooth voice made Lucy turn quickly, cursing the slight flush that rose to her cheeks. “Luciana.” The Thoranian took her offered hand, raising it to his lips in a polite salute. “Let me say again how delighted I am that you have decided to join us.” His gaze passed over her two companions, and he inclined his head. “And my warmest welcome to both of you as well.”

  Matheus mumbled something that passed for a polite greeting, but Lucy couldn’t help but notice that one of Cody’s eyebrows was slightly raised. He showed none of the anger that Eamon seemed to feel every time he laid eyes on Rasad, but he clearly shared the prince’s mistrust to some extent. Truth be told, even Lucy wasn’t sure whether she could trust Rasad.

  “I hope you’ll ride with me?” This time Rasad undeniably spoke specifically to Lucy, and although it sounded like a question, something in his manner made it clear that the matter was already arranged. Lucy found her horse drawing alongside the Thoranian’s before she was even conscious of having directed it there.

  “I was pleased to learn that you all intended to ride,” Rasad said conversationally as they drew out of the courtyard, heading south. “I had expected that I would need to provide a carriage, and that would certainly have slowed our progress.”

  “We’ve all been riding since we were children,” said Lucy. “Well,” she glanced back over her shoulder at the other two, riding in a pair not far behind, “all but Cody. And he’s competent enough.” She returned her gaze to the front, her eyes picking out the golden heads of Eamon and Jocelyn, alongside Kincaid’s auburn one. “The royals are obviously very well trained in horsemanship, but Matheus and I aren’t too far behind them.”

  “I can see that you have an excellent seat,” Rasad agreed admiringly. “I’m glad, because it will increase your enjoyment of Thorania, I think.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lucy, looking up at him. She couldn’t help but notice that he handled his own horse masterfully.

  But Rasad just smiled. “You’ll see.”

  Lucy was intrigued, but she didn’t press him. She snuck a sideways look at his face. His smile was open and genuine, and she had no doubt whatever he was thinking about brought him genuine enjoyment. The expression made him look younger and more approachable—and if she was honest, more handsome—than she had seen him before.

  “So,” she said, casting around for something to say. “We’ll reach the border today?”

  “This evening,” corrected Rasad. “We’ll camp on this side of the river, and cross in the morning. It’s not far from the river to the capital.”

  Lucy looked sideways again, noting that the easy smile was still there. “You look happy,” she ventured.

  “I’m glad to be going home,” Rasad said simply. He met her look, amusement back in his eyes. “You’re going to like Thorania, trust me.”

  They had almost reached the city wall, their route leading them alongside the river. Lucy glanced back the way they had come, at the harsh gray walls of the castle rising above the other buildings.

  “I’m starting to think you’re right,” she said lightly, remembering the look on Queen Verena’s face when Lucy had spoken of the early departure.

  The cavalcade left Nohl by the same road Lucy and Cody had taken a couple days before. The giant wooden gates stood wide, and Lucy was fascinated to see the traffic coming down the river. Huge wooden pylons floated through the gap in the wall, lashed together into rafts. The men riding on them deftly kept their makeshift vessels in the center of the stream with long poles.

  “Timber is Balenol’s main export, but I suppose you already know that,” said Rasad, noticing her interest. He gave her another conspiratorial smile. “These days, the Balenans have to fell the trees themselves.”

  Lucy gave a small smirk, unable to stop the surge of vindictive satisfaction as she thought of the drop in Balenol’s prosperity since they lost their slave labor.

  When she had traveled through the city in the previous few days, she had felt the stab of discomfort as she took in the evidence of poverty that was all around. Nohl was certainly a less prosperous city than Kynton, and it was clear that many of its citizens were struggling. But even though the same signs were there as she rode through the streets of Nohl at Rasad’s side, her sympathy seemed to have decreased.

  She had wanted to like Balenol—a small part of her had even wondered if she would like it better than Kyona. But other than the kindness shown by a couple of the royals, the kingdom had so far given her little reason to warm to it. The superficial admiration of those who had complimented her at the welcome gala counted for nothing. She recognized it for the shallow facade it was—certainly none of those people had been in a rush to approach her over the last couple of days, once she had fallen into disgrace.

  Her eyes were once again drawn forward to the three royals who were just passing through the gate ahead of her. Eamon’s hair glinted so brightly in the morning sunshine that he hardly needed a crown to signify his status. She couldn’t help but remember what he’d said about how little he cared about the opinion of those vapid nobles who admired her one day and shunned her the next. He had much more reason than they did to avoid her, but he hadn’t shown any inclination to do so yet.

  “The Kyonan prince didn’t seem entirely happy about your decision to accompany us,” Rasad said suddenly, apparently noticing the direction of her gaze. “Do you know why that would be? Does he share that sentiment we’ve observed in others about mixed heritage?”

  “What?” Lucy said, startled. “No, of course not. Nothing like that. My family has been close with Kyona’s royals all my life.”

  “Really?” Rasad spoke politely, but there was just the faintest hint of disbelief in his voice.

  Lucy couldn’t help the flush that rose to her cheeks. She wasn’t sure how to explain to the Thoranian that the distance he had observed between her and the rest of the party had been at her own instigation, not theirs. And, she realized with a flash of shame, at times she had even included Matheus in her isolation, maneuvering ways for the two of them to avoid the royals.

  “Ea—the p
rince did have his reservations about us joining the delegation to Thirl,” she admitted. “But it wasn’t for any reason of…of…it was just that…”

  “It’s quite all right, Luciana,” Rasad rescued her smoothly. “I am not owed any explanation.”

  Lucy subsided, her face more flushed than ever. She and Rasad were passing through the gate by this time. Their passage mercifully required them to travel in single file for a short distance, allowing her to pull ahead where the older man couldn’t observe her embarrassment. Her eyes narrowed as they rested again on Eamon, irritated with him for making his disapproval so obvious and thereby putting her in such an uncomfortable position.

  They followed the road south for a while before it swung east, cutting into the jungle as it headed toward the border with Thorania. As the road turned, Lucy’s eyes strayed to the jungle on the western side of the path, remembering her glimpse into the rebels’ world with Cody. The consequences of that day on her standing in the Balenan court had been unfortunate, but she couldn’t regret the experience.

  Even as she looked ahead toward Thorania she could feel the weight of the little journal that she had tucked into a pocket of her gown. The long-dead Haydn had ventured into the neighboring kingdom, along with his Isidore, whoever she was.

  Presumably Haydn had carved out some kind of life for himself in the jungle community, if his journal had survived long enough to be handed down and kept by subsequent generations of jungle nomads. Lucy found herself wondering whether Isidore had been equally fortunate in Thorania. It was unlikely that the answer would be found in the volume now pressing against her leg as she rode. Most likely Haydn himself never found out what became of his former companion. Certainly Lucy never would.

  Lucy was ready to make camp long before they actually did. The day began hot and humid, and became even more so with every passing hour. The scenery was nothing to get excited about either—endless jungle on both sides of the road. She had no doubt that there were plenty of fascinating features to discover within the foliage. But they were not visible from the cleared track the group continued to plod down for league after league. They stopped infrequently for rest and food. No one complained, but Lucy could see on the faces of her fellow visitors that everyone was as weary of the trek as she had become.

  When the cool of evening finally came, Lucy would have been very happy to stop and sleep right where they were. But Rasad, showing no sign either of heat or fatigue, pushed the group calmly on. Visibility was poor on the road once the sun had gone down, the overhanging trees blocking the light of the moon. Their pace slowed considerably, but still they pushed on. Not long after, Lucy heard the sound of water ahead, growing steadily louder as they moved toward it. Finally, they emerged from the jungle into a cleared area on the bank of a large river. Only then did Rasad call a halt.

  Lucy fell from the saddle gratefully, wishing she had the privacy to rub her sore backside. She hadn’t been making idle boasts to Rasad—she genuinely was a good horsewoman. But a whole day in the saddle was much more than she was used to, and she knew she would be aching unbearably the next day. She hoped that Rasad had been telling the truth when he said that Thirl wasn’t far across the river.

  Rasad issued a few curt instructions, and there was a flurry of activity around the travelers. A host of servants had accompanied the delegation, serving food at their rest stops. In a remarkably short space of time, they set up a series of canvas tents and ushered the Kyonans and Valorians into them.

  Lucy was surprised by how pleasant they had managed to make the makeshift accommodation. It was more than sufficient. She was not generally used to the level of luxury she had been enjoying at the Balenan castle, and she was certain that after the demands of the day, she would sleep like the dead in any set up.

  The group shared a quick meal, everyone too tired for conversation. Lucy retreated into her tent as soon as she could politely do so, and was asleep within minutes.

  She fell immediately into a dream, so seamlessly it felt unnatural. The scene felt too real, too detailed, but it wasn’t any haunting memory assaulting her unconscious mind. It was something altogether unfamiliar.

  She found herself in the mountains of Kyona. How she knew with such certainty where she was, she couldn’t have said, given it was a place she had never visited. She had heard Jocelyn talk about the mountains, from the unusual people of the mountain capital of Montego, to the rugged terrain the princess had traversed in her unplanned detour toward Valoria’s north. But Lucy found herself in neither of those places.

  She was standing on a broad rocky plateau. A cave loomed behind her, and in front of her, the ground dropped away off a steep cliff. It was daylight in her vision, but the narrow bridge spanning the chasm disappeared almost immediately into gloom.

  Not that Lucy paid much attention to either the cliff or the bridge. She was a little distracted by what was on the plateau.

  Sitting serenely in front of her, his monstrous tail dangling off the edge of the cliff, was a dragon.

  An enormous dragon.

  Dragons were another thing Lucy had heard Jocelyn describe but had never seen herself. Still, she was sure Jocelyn had never described this one. She couldn’t have forgotten a mention of a coal black beast so gargantuan he almost looked like another mountain in the range. Surely this creature must be larger than Elddreki, the dragon Jocelyn had traveled with and had told Lucy about in some detail.

  “Greetings, young human,” the dragon said, pulling Lucy from her trance-like contemplation of him.

  “Is this…is this real?” The words felt foolish as they came out, but Lucy was so shaken by the sheer impressiveness of the beast that she couldn’t gather her thoughts.

  She knew she was dreaming—which was strange in itself—but she couldn’t shake the certainty that what she was seeing was no creation of her own mind. The dragon before her was intricate in detail, from the bearded ridge along each temple to the terrifyingly long and lethal talons on the ends of his scaled feet.

  “Certainly,” the dragon answered calmly. “I have summoned your mind while you sleep.”

  “But…why?” Lucy asked stupidly. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her mind. She should probably show more respect, but she had no training on the etiquette for conversing with a monstrous reptile.

  “Because I wished to speak with you.” The dragon regarded her silently for a moment, his snake-like orbs unsettling in their intensity. “Do you know who I am, young human?”

  Lucy swallowed, stopping herself just in time from saying, “A dragon”. Instead she shook her head mutely.

  “I am Qadir,” the creature said, his voice as deep and dark as an underground lake. “I am the ruler of the dragon colony at Vasilisa. You have heard that name, I think?”

  “Yes,” Lucy confirmed, her voice coming out as a squeak.

  She had certainly heard of Vasilisa, the heart of the Dragon Realm hidden in Kyona’s mountains. Her father had even been there, or very close to it, when he was her age.

  She wondered suddenly if she was standing in Vasilisa right now. The thought made her uneasy, even if she was only there in vision form. Even Jocelyn and Kincaid—who had traveled extensively with the dragon Elddreki—had never actually been to Vasilisa. She felt sure she shouldn’t be there, dream or not.

  “And you have heard of me?” Qadir prompted.

  Again Lucy nodded. Her father had actually met the ancient dragon-ruler when he had visited the Dragon Realm, although he had spoken mainly about the younger—and more approachable—Elddreki. But she knew enough to be aware that Qadir had a centuries-old friendship with the Kyonan royal house. The house to which King Calinnae belonged, that was now known as the house of Dragonfriend. Eamon’s house.

  What the dragon-ruler would want with her, she couldn’t imagine. But it wasn’t as though he had accidentally stopped at the wrong tent. He said he had summoned her mind while she slept. She hadn’t known dragon magic could do that, but she supposed it
shouldn’t surprise her after the stories she had heard about the beasts of legend.

  “What…what did you want to speak to me about?” she tried tentatively.

  “I wished to thank you,” said Qadir evenly. “Not only on my own behalf, but on behalf of dragonkind. It seems you have done us a service, and we are in your debt.”

  By the end of this speech, Lucy’s mouth was hanging open in a very unladylike way. For a prolonged moment she could only stare at the dragon.

  “I’ve done you a service?” she managed at last. “What service could I possibly have—”

  “You destroyed the abomination that we had failed even to identify, let alone eliminate,” Qadir interrupted her. “We of Vasilisa were not even aware of the existence of the dragon colony located in the place the humans call Wyvern Islands. We certainly did not know that one of their number had forfeited his magic to a human, thereby warping the receiver.”

  Lucy shut her mouth with a snap as his words fell into place. The “abomination” in question was her uncle, Scanlon. The one she had killed in order to save Benjy’s life. Jocelyn, after swearing her to secrecy, had explained it all to her. Although she hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that her friend was telling the truth—and therefore that Eamon wasn’t entirely culpable for his actions—she had taken in every detail of the story.

  Dragons who had chosen immortality couldn’t die except in one way—by forfeiting their magic to another creature in an act of suicide that twisted the recipient as surely as it destroyed the giver. Scanlon had somehow managed to find the one dragon desperate enough to do just that, and convinced him to pass over his magic. The result was that Scanlon had gained a subtle but powerful magic that caused people to trust him implicitly.

  “I do not know if you have been made familiar with our history,” Qadir continued, unruffled by Lucy’s evident consternation. “I am aware that Elddreki told things to his human companions that perhaps…Suffice it to say, there was a time when many dragons engaged in this appalling act. The creatures that resulted could not be allowed to survive. We hunted them down and destroyed them all.”