Dragonhold (Book 2)

by Brian Rathbone

  Not long before Windhold and the natural harbor came into view, regal dragons flew out to meet them. Valterius and Gerhonda cried out to Sinjin and Kendra. It was in many ways a joyous reunion, and Kenward was not ungrateful for the escort.

  No one was certain how the dragons had known they were coming. Most chalked it up to them sensing those they bonded. Their cries were both merry and mournful. Flying in close, Kenward thought they might land on the Wing, but perhaps they sensed the crew was already strained and chose not to distract them.

  When Jessub eased the ship back into the water, he did so with growing confidence and skill.

  "Well done," Fasha said. The crew hooted and hollered their agreement, though some commented on how many times it had taken him to get the hang of it.

  Dragons waited on the shoreline, and Benjin dropped anchor in the shallows. With the boats lowered, weary crew and passengers climbed down the boarding nets and crossed the final barrier separating them from land. Growing winds drove white-capped waves ashore, making the final row treacherous.

  Kenward joined Kendra and Sinjin in one of the boats, and despite nearly capsizing, they did eventually gain the shore. The dragons cooed and bobbed their heads up and down until Sinjin and Kendra stroked their foreheads. Valterius offered his wing to Sinjin, and Kenward's friend hadn't looked that happy in months. He smiled, albeit a bit sadly.

  Tension between Kendra and Gerhonda was apparent, but Kenward chalked that up to both being female--complicated creatures, those. The embrace was longer in coming but no less enthusiastic. Soon the two ferried supplies up to Windhold, saving the need to carry everything up the steep climb.

  Drakon followed suit and when the cargo had been unloaded, they carried weary travelers up to the hold. Kenward watched the first few go and turned a bit green as they slipped into the mountain. He was a brave man, but some things were beyond even his courage; putting his life in a giant flying lizard's control was among them. He'd never admit it to those around him. Climbing on foot was statement enough. He was not alone, though, and that gave him comfort.

  Reaching Windhold left Kenward mentally and physically exhausted. So many questions and ideas rattled in his mind, he could make sense of none of it, which left him unsettled.

  Near where a member of the Dragon Clan unsaddled Valterius, Sinjin and Kendra stood, their heads hung low. Durin's absence cast a pall over everything they did.

  "Our world continues to change," Sinjin said to those gathered. A few people were still filing in at the back of the crowd. "Our stores have been taxed, and all the things we've worked so hard for are at risk. We must be vigilant. We must be strong." Windhold rang with a cheer of agreement. "We've guests to feed as well. Hunting and fishing duties are to be redoubled. I know it's a lot to ask, but I ask it nonetheless. We can no longer overlook the need for defenses and secure housing for the Drakon and Dragon Clan alike."

  Even after time had passed, Kenward sensed the Dragon Clan's disappointment. They had chosen to dedicate their lives to dragons but had not been rewarded with a bonded dragon of their own. Kenward could only imagine how that must feel, and he gave those people credit for not being more bitter and for supporting their more fortunate brethren.

  "It seems like long ago that we found an ancient place high atop the peaks. The time has come to focus our resources on seeing if this place can support us," Sinjin continued.

  This statement was received with some enthusiasm. Life within Windhold was difficult, and any advantages they could gain would be most welcome. An outsider, Kenward wasn't a part of these efforts, and he felt selfish for having hoped Sinjin would make his requests a priority. Looking to his right, he caught Fasha's eye. She gave him a sad smile. Kenward couldn't help but feel a bit jealous of his sister in that moment, and he felt a smaller person for it, but she always managed to have a serviceable ship when he did not.

  "I've already asked much of you, but there's one thing more," Sinjin said. Windhold fell silent, save the rushing wind and the occasional rattle of harness. "The Drakon and Dragon Clan do not forget those who help them." This brought a cheer. "We don't forget a friend who needs us, and despite everything else that must be done, I ask all of you to rise to this challenge and show just how we treat those we care about."

  Sinjin's words evoked a rush of emotion that flooded the hall. Kenward's face flushed, and when he looked back at his sister, tears threatened to fall from her eyes. The very one he'd been jealous of a moment ago was overwhelmed with emotion. Kenward was ashamed.

  "We've work to do, my friends," Sinjin said with a flourish and a grin. "We've a ship to build."

  Overcome with emotion, Fasha could not hide it, and tears clouded Kenward's vision. Never before had he been honored so, and he took a ragged breath before speaking. When he did regain his composure, his words stunned everyone.

  "You are gracious and kind," he said. "But if we're going to go to the trouble of building a ship, perhaps we could attempt something a bit more ambitious?"

  * * *

  Nora Trell preferred a sturdy deck beneath her feet and water around her, but she had to admit the landbound served a purpose or two. Though the sea provided most of what she needed, the food on land was worth a bit of risk and occasional discomfort. Fruits and other nutrient-rich foods were essential to supplement the sea's bounty. Such ingredients weren't always easy to come by, even for a trader. Buying a variety of items in small quantities was nothing like brokering large shipments. Trading was about relationships, and Nora maintained her connections carefully, knowing those who weren't vital at one time could well be in another.

  Not all contacts were equal. Some were more dangerous and dealt with darker business than others. The Trells had never been ones to meddle in landbound politics. There were just too many rules and invisible lines determining what belonged to whom. No one owned the seas, not that the landbound didn't try. Where land meets water, fortunes can be made but not without risk. Aware of the danger, Nora turned onto a narrow street. This was not a well-patrolled avenue or a sanctioned trade route; this was the kind of place a person could disappear. Tiny houses stacked atop one another formed a haphazard maze of the landbound's castoffs.

  Distrustful eyes watched between slats in shoddily constructed walls. Nora kept her head down but her eyes up. Avoiding eye contact with anyone, especially the hooded, black-robed figure walking toward her, she slowed. Within the narrow alley, there was not always room for two to pass. Stepping to the side as far as she could, Nora hoped she wasn't invading anyone's personal living space. This was an easy way to spring a leak.

  Looming over her, it was clear the hooded man could do as he wished with her and nothing would stop him. No one would interfere or cry for help. The jagged, crumbling walls closed tighter, pressing in on her. The sky darkened. Taking a deep breath, Nora remembered why she spent her life at sea. She couldn't imagine people choosing to live like this. Most had no choice, which only made the feeling worse. If she'd been born on land and unable to sail the sea, surely she would have gone mad. This, of course, explained most of her experiences with the landbound, a dangerous and unpredictable lot.

  As the robed figure passed, he bumped into her, knocking her off balance. Never had she felt so vulnerable. Part of her wanted to run, to leave this awful place and never come back, but the other part--the part that usually won--knew this was important. Her future was at stake, and she cast her fears aside. The big man's hand glided across hers, leaving a parchment scrap in her palm. After casting him a surly glance, Nora moved on. Still people watched, the danger far from averted. Some things were worth the risk.

  Chapter 11

  A skilled flightmaster sculpts air into art only a fortunate few can see.

  --Pelivor, flightmaster

  * * *

  Windhold buzzed with activity. Never had Kenward known such joy and pressure at the same time. Always before he'd had control over his ship's construction, but he'd been limited by time, gold, and manpower. N
ow he lacked materials and expertise. The Drakon had proven good to their word and helped him gather the bulk of what he needed.

  Benjin stood stroking a prized piece. Bearing the exact curves they needed with richly grained wood, the massive tree had been close to impossible to get into dry dock, but six dragons working together somehow made it happen. Kenward was amazed at what these people could do with flying lizards even if he really had no desire whatsoever to fly on one. Knowing he might no longer have a choice in the matter, Kenward turned his attention back to the drawings. Benjin knew his business and needed no guidance. He'd criticized the Serpent's masthead, and Kenward was hardly in a position to argue when the man offered to carve this new one. The likeness of Valterius was a nice touch. This time his ship wouldn't be a poor imitation; it would be the first of its kind . . . at least in this age.

  Sinjin had provided the desk and dried fronds on which Kenward could draw out his designs. There were multiple gaps in his plans, but he had to push on anyway. Somehow they would find a way to fashion what they needed from what they had. Years before, Kenward would have balked at raiding the Slippery Eel. He'd lost the Serpent in the meantime, and somehow that gave him distance from the loss of the Eel. Now he tried to look at things differently. Rather than desecrating the Eel's resting place, he gave parts of the ship a new life. It still hurt but it also gave him hope. It was worth it.

  Much of what he lacked now was skill, which he hoped to replace with experimentation. After all, the things he didn't know how to do were just the things he'd never had to do before. The metals and canvas from the Slippery Eel had been the deciding factor. The Firstland had no mining operations and thus no access to ore. The Dragon's Wing carried additional sails but for a reason, and Kenward couldn't ask when he had access to canvas of his own.

  Overseeing the operation had been difficult, but it was something he simply could not trust to someone else. He would never have been able to forgive himself for sending someone in his stead on that particular expedition. Kenward's ships were pieces of himself, and though he inevitably risked and lost, his treatment of them mirrored how he treated himself.

  Again, he poured over the drawings, trying to find some other task that needed doing, some other purpose more important than finding the lightwood he needed. In spite of describing it to Sinjin in abundant detail, no one had been able to find any of the precious wood. This frustrated Kenward more than anything else, and he did his best not to mutter under his breath. When he glanced over his shoulder, Sinjin and several of the Dragon Clan worked to saddle Valterius. The dragon seemed to miss Durin as much as anyone else and refused to cooperate. Three people went down with a single swipe of the dragon's tail, and Kenward wondered how anyone could work with a creature capable of killing them at any given moment. He thought it inevitable, but he hoped he was wrong.

  When Sinjin started his way, Kenward swallowed hard. He'd found no suitable excuses. It was his fate at stake, his vision, his dream. Kenward could not expect someone else to achieve his destiny. He could ask for help and no more. He'd asked and received help in abundance, but some things remained up to him.

  He'd considered combing the forest floor on foot but had enough sense to realize how much faster they could search from the air. Part of him wanted to say he might not recognize the trees from above but given the amount of time he'd spent telling Sinjin how to spot it from that exact vantage, his ruse would be thin at best.

  "So?" Sinjin said. There was no need to say more.

  Kenward just nodded in acceptance of his fate. He donned the heavy jacket and goggles Sinjin provided, feeling foolish. He'd always thought the goggles made people look like frogs, and now he was the frog. On trembling knees, he approached Valterius. The dragon watched with knowing eyes and remained still. Kenward had secretly been hoping the dragon would misbehave and make this trip somehow impossible. The dragon's expression was unreadable, but Kenward got the sense the dragon knew his thoughts and enjoyed a good laugh at his expense.

  Leaning down and extending his wing, Valterius invited them to mount. Sinjin went first, climbing nimbly up and sliding into the saddle like greeting an old friend. Kenward grabbed Sinjin's extended hand tentatively, afraid he would somehow hurt the dragon and end up being its lunch. Valterius watched him with amusement. With a deep breath, he pulled himself up. It felt as if his boots were digging into the dragon's flesh, and Kenward tried to hurry. This unfortunately caused him to be clumsy and he nearly fell back to the stone when his boot got caught in the straps. After putting all his weight on the other foot, Valterius issued a woof.

  Eventually Kenward found himself in the seat behind Sinjin. He let his friend secure the straps, afraid he would do it incorrectly and end up smeared across the rocks below the keep. His breathing was rapid when Sinjin gave his straps one last check. His friend gave him a firm nod and a pat on the knee. It didn't help.

  Kenward was about to ask for information that could mean the difference between life and death, but Valterius ran out of patience. Before Sinjin could turn back around, the dragon hit a full run.

  "Valterius!" Sinjin scolded, which drove the dragon faster.

  Being supported by nothing but the translucent wing membranes was a big part of what Kenward had been dreading. Little did he know that should have been the least of his fears. He had no idea what the dragon's cry meant, but the meaning became quite clear. The dragon had been waiting for this moment, and now he would have his revenge.

  Valterius did not extend his wings. They dropped from Windhold and spun like a falling seed pod, the world around them alternating between stone and sky. Kenward thought he might pass out before they all died. He did not. Mere hand widths above the rocky soil, Valterius pulled up, stabilizing their flight. In case Kenward had not gotten the message, Valterius turned and met his eyes.

  In that instant, Kenward vowed never again to think of dragons as flying lizards.

  * * *

  Sevellon made it as far as the waters off the coast of the Falcon Isles before the Nightfist's crew tossed him overboard. Grateful he was not full of holes, Sevellon swam to the nearest rock he could find. Swimming was not his strongest skill, but he had survived worse. The Falcon Isles were in many ways a series of small rocky outcroppings jutting from the sea, and he would have to swim only the distances between them. Buoys tied to some of these formations gave evidence fishermen would come as well, but Sevellon did not want to rely on the generosity of others.

  From the little bit the men aboard the Nightfist told him, few ships frequented the Falcon Isles these days. Fears of feral dragons and demons persuaded most to find trade closer to home. Those who remained on the island had little choice, and most were desperate, including the jungle savages.

  Sevellon wondered just how much of the happenings in his life were the thief's luck and how much was manipulation. He began to feel the strings tug, as lights once again appeared in the water. This ship he did not recognize, which was something of a relief. There was no denying the fact that it came straight for him, though, which made no sense. Bright light shone on the rock where he huddled defenseless, cold and wet. Few times had he ever found himself in a more desperate state. Part of him wanted to slip into the water and hide, but they would find him, every advantage theirs. From the masthead looked down a mighty wolf, and it almost seemed as if it spoke.

  "Are you the man they call Sevellon the Thief?"

  The question came as a blow to Sevellon's confidence and ego. Most of his life had been spent avoiding that exact question, and now it had been for naught. "I am," he said.

  A rope ladder fell from above, and Sevellon the thief decided to trust his luck. Grabbing the rope, he climbed aboard an unknown ship where people already knew his name and profession. Getting out of this alive might be a trick.

  "Have no fear," said an older man with a hard jaw. "My name is Jharmin Kyte, and you are welcome aboard my ship. I have something for you."

  Though perhaps meant to soothe Se
vellon's fear, the words increased it instead. He knew who this man was, and his presence meant Catrin or someone had been manipulating him this entire time. Part of him wanted to be angry with them, and part of him was angry with himself. They had figured him out and used him as a tool. The fury began to grow. "How did you know to find me here?"

  It took a moment before Jharmin Kyte replied, his expression thoughtful. "It was a rather uncomfortable experience," the man admitted. "But I do believe I was spoken to by the lady Catrin's dragon, Kyrien."

  Having his suspicions confirmed reinforced Sevellon's fear. His eyes scanned his surroundings, searching for a way out, understanding the threats and looking for ways to neutralize them.

  "I ask nothing from you, except that you take what Catrin has asked me to give you," Jharmin said.

  "And if I choose not to take it?"

  Jharmin shrugged. "You seem like a nice enough fellow, but I don't suppose we'd take it very kindly. I mean you no harm, mind you, but Catrin's family. It is my wish to carry out her desires in this instance, and I will gladly transport you back to the Godfist along with this."