Redheart (Leland Dragon Series)

by Jackie Gamber

  Back at the cave, she rested against a scratchy wool blanket from another of Jastin’s saddlebags. He was tearing a second tunic into strips for her feet. “Why did that white dragon help me out and then tell the others that I’d escaped? And how did you know I was supposed to go east? Why was this food waiting here?” She leaned up to peer at him. He silently wrapped a strip of cloth around her swollen wounds. “Jastin?”

  He tied off the cloth. “I do like the sound of my name from your mouth. A mouth that asks too many questions, though.”

  She lay back with a huff. “Kallon answers my questions.”

  “How nice of him.”

  “He is nice. If you’d give him a chance, you’d find out for yourself.” His hands were gentle as they wrapped her other foot, and she peeked across her belly at him. “I think you and that white dragon worked something out together. If you can trust him, why can’t you trust Kallon?”

  He moved closer and stretched out on his side, his dark eyes regarding her. “I don’t trust any dragon. What I worked out with the White was done out of a higher purpose. He’s giving me a chance to be a part of something larger, and I am taking it.”

  “Something larger?”

  He tucked his arm beneath his head, his cheek resting on his forearm. “You have charmed the Red, you know. He’s smitten, somehow.”

  “We’re friends. We care about each other.”

  “I’ve protected you, and I’ve fed and clothed you. Yet you don’t call me a friend. What do you see in that red beast you don’t see in me?” His hand reached out for her cheek.

  “Don’t.” She rolled over, turning her back.

  What did she see in Kallon that she didn’t see in Jastin? Why did she prefer Kallon’s scaly touch? These questions, and others, circled her mind like a mouse running in a barrel. Despite her exhaustion, and her eagerness to sleep, she didn’t. Around and around the questions looped. She wrestled with them deep into the night.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Riza opened her eyes to find her wish had come true. She could see the sun again. At least, she could feel it, because it reached warm fingers into the cave that caressed her legs and soothed her stiff joints. How she’d missed the light! She sat up and stretched, lazily content.

  And alone. “Jastin?” She tried to stand on puffy, aching feet, but was forced back to her knees. She crawled forward, inching her face out into the day. “Jastin? Are you out there?”

  Four gray feet landed on the soft grass outside the cave. Then four green feet. And four more white, clawed feet dropped to land in front of her face. Riza clutched the trembling ground. Three fierce dragon muzzles lowered, snorting hot breath. She felt the air seep from her lungs.

  “Where is your mate?” Whiteclaw’s familiar snout moved to within inches of her nose. “Has he abandoned you?

  “My mate?”

  “The other human.”

  She scowled at the white dragon. “He’s not my mate.”

  Blade’s clopping gait sounded from near the water. “I’m not even her friend,” came Jastin’s voice from behind the dragons. They turned, tails swinging wide, to face him.

  “Seize him,” said Whitetail. The Gray and the Green rushed Jastin, dwarfing he and Blade between them. Claws gripped his arms and forced them away from his sides. Blade whinnied and thrashed.

  Jastin shouted, his face flaming red. His thighs gripped his mount, trying to settle him. “We had a deal, Whitetail!”

  “Deal? I am afraid I do not know what you mean.” The white dragon oozed toward the group around the frightened horse. “Where have you been this morning, human?”

  “You know where I was.” Jastin’s mouth curled into a snarl. He struggled to yank his arms from the dragon claws.

  “Let me guess. Somewhere in the vicinity of the council arena?” Whitetail daintily reached for Jastin’s sword at his side. “That is where we found the murder victim. A crossbreed of Blue and Green. Would that be Teal?” The sword drew out slowly from its sheath. Thick blotches of crimson clung to the blade. “Would this be dragon blood on your sword, human?”

  Watching the scene as though it were a dream, Riza felt her color drain from her face. She choked on the urge the retch. “Jastin.” She heard her own voice as a whisper. “What have you done?”

  Four sets of eyes turned to her. She could only stare back. “Ah, yes. The accomplice,” said Whitetail.

  “No,” said Jastin through clenched teeth. “Not the girl. You leave her out of this.”

  “Tsk, tsk. I would be remiss in my duties if I did not bring you both to the council for sentencing.”

  “No!” Jastin suddenly bolted up and out of the saddle. He swung his feet, flipping them over his head to spin within the dragons’ grasp. As his feet came down, he planted them against Blade’s rump and kicked him forward. The horse bolted. “Take him, Riza! Go!”

  She didn’t have time to think. Blade bore down on her and she stood. Pain screamed from her feet, but she didn’t have time to feel, either. She leaped at the horse, grabbed at the saddle, and caught. Her fingers clawed, trying to pull up, but Blade’s run threw her against his ribs, and it was all she could do to hang on. Her feet smacked the earth, bounced up with a jerk, and smacked again. She cried out.

  Just as her grip gave way, a suffocating pinch of green claws snatched her from the horse. Her stomach lurched as she was yanked skyward. Blade continued his frenzied bolt, and she watched him plunge through the thick firs as he became smaller and smaller. The world spun. Her stomach emptied.

  * * *

  “Orman, the sun is up. I’m going back to Mount Gore.” Kallon nudged the sleeping wizard with his snout. Orman grunted. “What do you need before I go?”

  Orman rolled to his back, knuckles circling at his closed eyes. “Mount Gore, you say?”

  “Yes,” Kallon said, impatient to get going.

  “Yes, yes. We must go. The wind was calling to me in my dreams.” He pushed up to sit, hunched and bewildered-looking, with his white hair turned wild from sleep, and his gray eyes hazy. “But not yet. Let me gather up my things.” Orman suddenly blinked. “Where are we?”

  Kallon hung his head. He’d brought Orman to the first place he could think of that might mean rest and strength to the human, and had quietly hoped that he’d be able to slip away before Orman realized. Kallon had spent the night rationalizing that his cave would be too risky, that Orman’s hut had been out of the question, and that he could think of no other place. But the truth was that Kallon had originally brought Orman to this place without conscious thought at all, except for the vague memory of a mysterious dragon helper that had once healed and strengthened him here.

  Kallon watched Orman’s eyes trail the burned landscape. He watched Orman’s expression shift from confusion to surprise, then to astonishment, as the wizard’s gaze found the erect headstones of his father’s grave, his mother’s grave, and the Dandria tree. Finally, Orman’s eyes returned to Kallon, and glanced briefly to the dull linking stone before meeting Kallon’s eyes.

  Kallon shrank smaller and smaller in shame. At least, he tried to shrink. The fact was that he actually felt larger and larger, growing in embarrassment and stupidity. He shifted his weight. His throat rumbled. In the end, it was he who broke the silence. “I don’t know why I brought you here.”

  Orman’s wrinkles caved in around his mouth and bunched up into a wide smile. “I think you do.”

  He couldn’t meet Orman’s eyes. “It doesn’t matter. No help came to us. I don’t know why I allowed myself to think it might.”

  “In other words, you came here in a time of need, seeking instant help from someone you don’t even really believe in, and because you didn’t receive exactly what you wanted, you feel justified in your denial.”

  Kallon lifted his eyes to stare flatly at Orman. Fine. He’d play. “Yes,” he said. “Now if you don’t need anything from me, there’s someone out there who does.”

  Orman climbed unsteadily to
his feet. He made his uneven way to the Dandria and stroked his fingers across the mottled bark. “You met him. You actually stood in the presence of the Gold, didn’t you?” His face swung to Kallon. “And still you managed to deny it all to yourself. That is some feat, Kallon Redheart. Few are able to do that.”

  Kallon snarled. “You’re mocking me.”

  Orman’s hand shot up. “No, not intentionally. I actually admire the depth of your stubbornness in a way one might stare in fascination at a starving salamander, gobbling up its own tail in attempt to survive.”

  Kallon growled, but Orman waved him to silence. “I’ll save the lecture for later. You did the right thing, bringing me here. Thank you. Now we have business with a certain black dragon. And your fate.”

  “The only fate I am concerned about now is Riza’s,” Kallon said. “You don’t need to come if you’re not strong.”

  “I’m not strong. But I’m needed.” Orman beckoned Kallon to crouch, and he sprang up to clutch at Kallon’s spine. Bare feet kicked at his ribs, and hands pinched his scales as Orman tried to swing his leg over.

  Kallon winced. If his friends didn’t get better at mounting, he might have to invest in a saddle just to spare the pain of each climb.

  Orman paused. He looked at Kallon with upraised brows.

  Kallon glared back. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Wasn’t my idea,” said Orman. The wizard finally settled across his shoulders. “Anything left of my home? My crystals? My workshop?”

  Kallon almost didn’t have the heart to break it to him. “Nothing but rubble.”

  He could feel Orman’s sigh draw right up through his scales. “Alas,” said the wizard. “We’ll have to use our wits, then. I’ve never had much confidence in mine.”

  “Nor have I,” Kallon said.

  “After all,” Orman continued, and patted Kallon’s shoulder. “Look who I’m counting on to be the hero of the day.”

  Chapter Forty

  “My fellow dragons,” blared Blackclaw’s voice above the buzzing swarm of murmurs in the arena. “You have all heard the rumors of the senseless murder of one of our own at the hands of a human dragon hunter.”

  “We have heard!” sounded a rasping shout from the crowd. “Tell us the truth!”

  A dramatic pause urged the murmurs to complete silence. A breeze swept through the fir trees at the arena opening, rattling the soft needles. Orman’s hand gripped Kallon’s shoulder tightly, and they shared a nudge of alarm from where they’d paused, hiding behind the arena wall, to listen.

  “It is true,” Blackclaw finally said. “Delt Bluecrest, the council’s own appointed recorder, was found dead this dawn.”

  The arena erupted in frenzied ramblings and shouts. Orman spoke, but Kallon couldn’t understand his words beneath the crushing volume spilling over the arena walls.

  “Your anger is acknowledged, good dragons! As is mine,” spoke Blackclaw again. “The murderers will not go unpunished!”

  “Did he say ‘murderers’?” Orman asked, eyes narrowing.

  Kallon stared back at Orman, his mouth gone dry as Fell Lake. His mind skipped through the words...human dragon hunter…dead this dawn…murderers. It couldn’t possibly mean what his brain was trying to puzzle together. It couldn’t possibly be.

  “Dragon Council! Dragon Representatives!” Blackclaw’s shout brought the crowd to attention, and the voices dulled. “We are a reasonable Kind. We do not seek revenge for the sake of anger, but justice for the sake of righteousness. I will present the criminals to you, and we will hear them!”

  Kallon managed to hear the rattle of chains above the shouts. Orman rushed forward to peer around the wall, but Kallon was held in place by a fist of fear. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to know. Orman gasped, and turned wide eyes to Kallon. “It’s the girl.”

  Kallon pressed clawed digits to his eyes. He was suddenly dizzied by the sensation that this was all some freakish joke; he would peer around the arena wall with Orman, and find Riza and Blackclaw and the others smiling and waiting to shout, “Got you!” Breath held, he lurched forward. Slowly, his snout rounded the wall, and his eyes found the platform at the front of the stadium.

  Jastin Armitage, shirtless and scarred, jerked violently against his chains. He ranted. He stomped his feet. But the din of the raging crowd gulped up his threats, and dragon fists pumped the air before him. Beside him stood Riza, her hands bound behind herself, her black tunic fluttering like ghostly feathers against her legs. She lifted her chin. Her eyes met the gale force of dragon fury without wavering. She was a dignified queen, facing down her unruly subjects with gentle benevolence. His heart clenched.

  “Look at her, Orman. She’s beautiful.”

  “She is.”

  “I haven’t really known her until now, have I?”

  He felt Orman’s hand against his chest. “If you don’t do something to stop this nonsense, you’ll lose her.”

  “I don’t know what to do.”

  Orman swatted his throat. “Get in there and tell them who you are.”

  “State your name for the record, and tell us why you are here.” Kallon blinked. Fane Whitetail waved his paw toward Armitage.

  “I am Kallon Redheart!” Kallon’s own voiced startled him. Pairs of eyes darted to him. Then others followed, nudged dragon by dragon. Each new set of eyes stung him like nettles. His throat burned. “My mother was Sera Redheart, my father was Bren Redheart. They both died in honor and service to you all!”

  “Well, well,” Blackclaw said as he rocked back and crossed his forelegs. “The rumors are true, then. The Red has returned.” Voices began to rise again, but Blackclaw swept out a paw to halt them. “Tell us, great and honorable Redheart, where you have been all these years. Why did you choose to abandon your responsibilities at a time when your Kind needed you most? And why have you chosen this time to come forward from your silence?”

  Within the multitude of hovering eyes, a pair of green prisms, wet with tears, pled silently. Riza’s eyes. He focused on these, and the clammy grip of fear around his throat loosened. “I have come for the woman. She is innocent.”

  Dragon faces swung to regard Blackclaw. “Do you have some sort of proof that this is so?” he asked.

  “Do you have proof she is not?”

  Blackclaw turned to address the dragons. “She was in the company of the dragon slayer. The dragon slayer was found with Bluecrest’s blood on his sword!” Dragons roared in response, waving their tails.

  Armitage shouted, “The girl is innocent, Blackclaw! What is she to you?” He struggled against his chains again, but his outburst was lost in the tide of dragon cries.

  Blackclaw continued, waving his forelegs toward the crowd. “We have one innocent here, and that is Bluecrest! If the girl did not swing the blade to murder Bluecrest herself, did she raise a hand to prevent it? It is by her lack of action that she is responsible!”

  The dragon horde swelled toward the platform, squeezing in against the granite steps on either side, scaled fists pummeling the air. “Execute her!”

  “Kill them!”

  “They cannot get away with this!”

  “They will be examples to all humans!” Blackclaw swung a fist toward the sky. “We dragons have lived quietly for too long! We have been disrespected, feared, and systematically murdered. We have had our lands stolen. We have dwindled to handfuls of proud, but powerless, tribes. Is this the legacy for which our leaders fought and died? Are we weaklings? Or are we warriors?”

  A rumble shook the ground as dragon heads lifted and scaly mouths parted. Words broke loose and poured from their tongues in deafening unison, “WARRIORS! WARRIORS!”

  Blackclaw raised both fists and pumped the crowd into a chant. “Warriors. Warriors. Warriors.” When the voices softened to a hum, he spoke again. “We are warriors. Humans were once our cause. We befriended them. They betrayed us.” He surged to the edge of the platform like a shifting thundercloud. “It is tim
e for a new cause!” His fists opened to splay wide, powerful digits. “Supremacy!”

  Shouting again buffeted the air. Kallon had to cover his ears to prevent his brain from shriveling. A new chant took over. Dragons growled, “War! War! War! War!”

  Kallon could only stare as dragon eyes reddened and dragon mouths foamed. Were these the peace-loving creatures his father once led? Were these the companions and mentors he remembered as a child? The faces he looked upon twisted grotesquely, puffed and disfigured by rage. A haze of sulfuric breath filled the arena, stippling the scene in an opaque nightmare.

  He glanced at Orman, who was staring in shock at Kallon above two fingers pinching his nose. Kallon looked for Riza on the platform. She’d gone pale and listless, staring off toward the far wall of the stadium. For a moment, Kallon thought she’d lost consciousness on her feet, until Armitage moved beside her to touch her shoulder, and she jabbed her elbow at his stomach.

  Kallon tried to find the end of the chains binding Riza’s wrists. If she wasn’t attached to anything, he might be able to swoop over the distracted council members on the platform and escape with her and Orman to safety. Once done, would the council bother to send chasers after them? With more important tasks to concern themselves with now, such as war, Kallon would be a speck of a problem. A nuisance. He could continue to live quietly in another province. One that had long since lost their dragons. A place where neither he nor Riza were known or noticed.

  His fellow Kind roared on. Blackclaw hollered loudest. But within, Kallon heard a still, small voice. His eyes darted to Orman. Orman seemed to have heard it, too, for he lowered his hand from his nose and smiled. Kallon almost fought it. He wanted to fight it. He wanted to drown it out with shouts of his own, but again the voice came, not from outside his ears, but from between them. Right inside his own brain. It said, “no.”

  “No,” he repeated aloud. Softly.

  “Again, Kallon,” said Orman. “Tell them.”

  “No.” Something broke loose inside him. It broke loose from somewhere deep where he carried his unshed tears and forgotten emotions. He felt a crack, as real as the peal of breaking stone. He threw himself at the throng of dragons blocking passage to the platform and shouted, “No!”