Dragonstorm: A Dragonhall Chronicles novel (The Reasoner Trilogy Book 2)

by Mirren Hogan

  Dashka glanced at Sarev, eyes wide. He looked mildly surprised, but unperturbed. He certainly didn't look like he'd run off and tell the officials at the first opportunity. Of course, if he did, they'd have to find someone else to bond Nehko.

  "Thank you, Risper," Dashka said, assuming he could hear her response.

  "You are most welcome."

  Kaida sagged slightly and shook her head. "Don't worry, it's not as disconcerting as it looks."

  "It really isn't," Sarev agreed, "although the first time is a surprise." The draakin shared a look and a nod.

  "Fashfi didn't warn you either," Kaida asked.

  "No, she just went ahead and did it." Sarev grinned.

  "No offence, but you're not filling me with much confidence here," Dashka said dryly.

  Sarev's grin just widened. "Trust us, it's worth every minute."

  "Yes, it is," Kaida agreed, "now pull the robe on over your clothes and be careful not to tear it." Despite the instruction, she moved to help Dashka, tugging the robe over her head and down until it fell to her feet.

  It was too big; Dashka had expected that. In order to fit so many draakin, it would have to be, just in case. Of course, that also meant it was far too long. She had to tug the hem up to avoid stepping on it and falling flat on her face.

  "Well, I don't think this will be the latest fashion in Paryos, but if it impresses Nehko then I'll manage," she said with as much dignity as she could.

  "Nehko will adore you," Kaida assured her. "He won't care what you wear."

  "Or if you wear nothing," Sarev said, giving them both a cheeky smile. That earned him a sock on the arm from Kaida, which made Dashka giggle even as she was blushing. She'd never focused overly much on her appearance, but she preferred to wear clothes, at least in public.

  "You're terrible," Kaida scolded, giving him a playful roll of her eyes.

  Dashka smiled. How she'd ever found draakin threatening, she'd no idea. They were just people, who happened to ride dragons. Good, kind people, who treated her like family.

  "Well, I have a dragon to bond," she declared. She hesitated for a moment. If they were about to tell her they'd changed their minds, they could do it now.

  "Yes, you do," Sarev said, "and don't worry, your secret is safe with us. I had a brother who was magin. I hardly remember him, but I remember when they took him." His angular face took on a look of melancholy.

  "Thank you," Dashka gave his hand a squeeze. He did the same in return and then offered his arm, while Kaida offered the other.

  "Is this a part of tradition too?" Dashka asked, looking from one to the other.

  Kaida just smiled in response and gestured for them all to climb the stairs.

  Although there was space for more, the rooftop was full of dragons. They numbered about twenty, but once there had been several hundred, and other dragonhalls around Dargyn. Now, fewer than half were female, all marginally smaller than the males. Nehko was the biggest of them all, and the darkest, his scales the green of the deep forest.

  They stopped in front of him and Kaida and Sarev stepped back to stand beside the other draakin. The group varied in height, ages, skin tone and hair colour. One was a curvaceous woman with pale skin and dark blonde hair, probably Aarlish. Another was a slender man standing taller than them all, his swarthy skin hinting at Eritsan blood. A woman of middle height, with long dark hair and an extremely pregnant belly looked as though she hailed from Marth, perhaps Tsiasa itself. The way she looked at the Eritsan man, they might be a pair. She certainly looked nervous about being in the company of other draakin. Perhaps she feared an attack like the ones in Paryos. An explosion big enough to bring down the Dragonhall might well end dragon kind, once and for all.

  That thought was sobering and chilling. Was that why the draakin didn't congregate in the same place very often?

  Dashka shook her head a little, trying to still her mind. She wasn't going to change it, but she didn't want to go into this with fearful thoughts. Would Nehko know? She looked up at him and saw his large, cat-like eyes regarding her. He gave a slow blink. Standing in front of him, she felt tiny and insignificant. How many years of history did he have stored inside his mind? How many people had he been bonded to?

  Her body trembled. Was she the right person for Nehko? How would she know?

  "What do I do?" she asked, speaking over her shoulder. Her eyes never left his. She was mesmerised by their green depths.

  "Just put your hand on his neck," Kaida said, "he'll do the rest."

  Dashka took a step forward and held out a shaking hand. She pressed her palm lightly against his scales. They were warm, and smooth. Her skin stood out against a dark patch beneath it, looking small, but not entirely out of place. She blinked at it, trying to understand why she was seeing it differently. It was still her hand, but she was seeing it as though for the first time. Her slender fingers, short nails, a broken cuticle.

  She tried to speak, but no words came. Her mind felt heavy and her body with it. She blinked again, but felt as though she was looking through honey, slow and thick. Someone spoke her name, but she wasn't sure who it was. She tried to turn her head, but it wouldn't move. For a moment, panic started to rise, but somehow it was soothed down until it was gone. Had she done that? She wasn't sure. One moment she wanted to pull back, the next she felt completely at peace.

  Nehko? Her mouth wouldn't obey her, so she tried to speak to him with her mind. Was that you? The reply didn't come in words, not as she'd recognise them, but as a sense of confirmation. Whatever was happening to her was his doing, and there was no way he'd hurt Dashka. She was safe with him, and he with her. He'd seen inside her mind, delved into all but her deepest and most private thoughts. He'd looked for and found that she too consented to this joining of minds.

  She had a question, and the answer came immediately, as though they weren't two minds, but one.

  Is that a secret only the draakin know? she asked.

  No, came the reply, clearer now, as the connection became strong enough for Nehko to respond in words. That the bond is created with magic is known. The knowledge is as old as the bond.

  But magic is banned.

  Dragon magic cannot be contained. We cannot be incarcerated.

  The draakin can die.

  Yes. Nehko sounded mournful. It reminded Dashka of how she felt when Mabyl died. He was grieving, and it was still very fresh.

  She licked her lips or rather, thought she did. Gallanor's death—it was difficult for you?

  Yes, but his heart was not strong enough. Nor could I intercede. Dragon magic is strong, but not infallible.

  Did he hurt?

  No, I could do that much for him.

  Did he know?

  In as much as he could know anything when his body began to fail.

  I'm sorry.

  Death comes to everyone.

  But not you today.

  Perhaps. Perhaps the days of dragons are done.

  Do you believe that?

  No. Those we fought for, and who fought for us, gave up too much to have us surrender. Dragons are too few. Times change, but we are needed. As we have long been needed. Let me show you. There is much to learn, and not much time.

  I don't understand.

  Watch.

  Dashka closed her eyes and let him fill her mind with his memories.

  Chapter Sixteen

  At first the visions flashed like the flick books Dashka used to make as a child. Individually each page had no meaning, but when held at the right angle, the swiftly moving paper tricked the eye into thinking it was seeing movement. The progression of images Nehko showed looked like a strange dance of faces and places. In some he was flying, in other watching his draakin, or swimming, then some standing beside buildings which didn't look familiar.

  Each face was different: older, younger, men, women, long hair, short, some smiling, others angry. The montage moved so quickly it began to blur. Then just before it became too much, a single image b
urst through the rest.

  The woman was taller than Dashka. How she knew this, she wasn't sure, but she did. She had long hair, dark and held back from her face in a thick braid. Loose, it'd fall to her waist. To Dashka, it looked totally impractical for a dragon rider.

  The woman's face was oval shaped, sloping down to a pointed chin, which might be best described as determined. Her blue eyes mirrored the sentiment. She looked like a woman one didn't cross, and one who got what she wanted more often than not.

  She put a hand out toward Dashka, who quickly realised she was seeing the woman through the dragon's eyes.

  "What do you think Nehko?" The woman's voice was light, but her eyes were heavy. Whatever she was asking about, it was a tremendous burden.

  With a start, Dashka knew what memory this was. She'd seen pictures of Ara Lucretia in Uncle Huberth's books. They were only sketches or paintings, some based on memories, some she'd posed for. The resemblance was clear but seeing her like this was much more real. Instead of the famed figure from Dargyn history, she was just a person, with flaws and worries. Here, she was younger than any of the paintings. Of course, those would have come after the Dragonwar. This—Dashka swallowed, taking in the leather armour which moulded around the woman's body—was before the war, or perhaps during.

  Ara looked worried. "Are we doing the right thing?" she asked.

  The reply came from Nehko, Dashka recognised his mind-voice already. We do as we must. If we do not, people will die. Many people.

  "If we do this, dragons might die," Ara said. She stepped back and rubbed the bridge of her nose.

  A nervous gesture, Dashka decided.

  "How can I take the draakin into such a situation? They trust me to lead them. What if my decision is the wrong choice?"

  The dragons know and understand the sacrifice we may be asked to make, Nehko replied, we make it willingly, so that fewer people will die.

  "It's so much to ask." Ara stepped toward the edge of the rooftop and looked out. The Dragonhall towered over Tsaisa, but the town looked different. Seen through Nehko's memory, Dashka saw more buildings, horses and carriages passing through, a busy road, bustling marketplace. There was no train yet.

  Nehko shuffled over, closer to his draakin. He peered over the edge and Dashka gasped. Now she knew why the town was so crowded. There, below the hall, was row up row of tents. To one side, soldiers practiced swordplay, or fighting with other weapons. Wagons rolled in, unloading supplies.

  So many people, so many men whose lives wouldn't have extended much past this day. The army of Dargyn, or at least the side which was ultimately victorious.

  Nehko's head swung around at the sound of footsteps. The man who stepped out onto the rooftop was one anyone in Dargyn would recognise. His uniform was neat and clean. His beaded face was tired, and he wasn't much past this third decade, but that didn't diminish the air of power he exuded.

  "General Sandvaal," Ara greeted him.

  "We're alone," he said, gesturing around the rooftop. He glanced toward Nehko but gave little sign of interest. His eyes were all for the woman before him. Dashka had seen that look before, most recently between Kaida and Sarev.

  "Narick," Ara said.

  He stepped forward and took her hands. "When will you stop being so formal?" he asked.

  "It's not proper …"

  He threw back his head and laughed. "We're at war! Who bothers with propriety these days?"

  "I do," she replied, stepping back.

  His eyes snapped with anger, but he smiled, regardless. "Very well, let's discuss the upcoming battle. The rest, we can deal with when we win."

  "If we win."

  "When," he said firmly, "we'll rid the world of the scourge of magin, and Euru. In a hundred years, even the history books won't remember them."

  "We shouldn't be so quick to forget," she said, her eyes narrowed, "if our descendants are to learn from this, then we must be sure they're taught."

  "You make a reasonable argument, my dear," he said, his voice smooth.

  "It's difficult to argue with reason," she said.

  He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You're right, it is. Dargyn could certainly use more…reason."

  Ara looked uneasy but nodded. "Do you think people will turn from their gods so easily?"

  "When faced with reason, and logic, how could they not?" he replied. "The people of the four kingdoms aren't children taking edicts from grizzled old priests. They are mature and thoughtful people, who are ready to embrace change."

  "Or fear of Euru has sent them running," she said.

  He chuckled. "That as well," he agreed, "that as well. The magin do themselves no service with the destruction of whole towns. Fear is only a useful tool if the method is subtle."

  "Fear should never be used to control people," Ara said.

  Did Dashka see a slight roll of the man's eyes? His expression looked congenial enough. "Such a deep philosophical conversation. And all I was expecting is to discuss where your dragons would be positioned during the battle. However, there are other positions we could discuss if you prefer. Or better yet—"

  Ara cut him off. "People are dying while we discuss frivolities. Have you specifics? A map?" Whatever might pass between them, they clearly weren't lovers.

  "Of course." He reached into a pocket under his jacket and handed her a sheet of paper.

  The memory started to blur around the edges. Ara and the general disappeared, as did the Dragonhhall.

  Dashka's vision swam until the memory coalesced into another.

  Ara stood beside Nehko, who had landed outside the gates to a large building. There were differences, destroyed buildings, streets of dirt, but it was familiar enough for her know where they stood—Paryos.

  "Remember the days before the war, when General Sandvaal would see us at a moment's notice?" she asked, keeping her voice down. Not far from her, several men and women stood, backs straight, black uniforms new, with silver buckles that shone in the sunlight.

  "Now, we're kept waiting for," she glanced upward, "an hour at least. You think they'd invite me and let me sit."

  He has forgotten his manners, Nehko agreed, or he has put them aside.

  She snorted softly. "You might be right. Now he's won the war, he doesn't need us anymore. Still, they're calling it the Dragonwar now, did you know?"

  I did not. Who has bestowed this name?

  "The people who still know to be grateful for their freedom, and the lives we managed to save. I think they forget more and more each day, though. Now they remember the battles and the lives lost. The ones we took."

  We only took those who would take others in greater numbers.

  "Of course, but it's easier to blame us for anything bad which happens now."

  He comes.

  General Sandvaal strode out the front gates of the building, flanked by more guards in black. He looked to be headed in another direction, but then changed as if he'd just noticed them. Ara gave a soft hiss of anger. Clearly, the ploy did not fool her, and she didn't appreciate being treated as an afterthought, even though it was a pretence.

  "Good afternoon draakin," he said down his nose, as though speaking to a lesser person. "What brings you to Paryos? Have you come to see the vision you inspired?"

  Ara looked stunned. "I inspired?"

  "Yes." He smiled broadly. "You said that Dargyn needs more reason. Now that we are one republic, united under me, and the four governors, it's more vital now than ever." He spread his hands to either side. "To that end, I've founded the reasoners, whose job is it to encourage the use of logic, study, hard work and not the worship of fictitious gods, or other—" he looked at Nehko, "entities."

  Ara drew in a loud breath. "You want a republic, but you've set yourself up as a king?"

  The general laughed. "Not at all. I'm merely a regent while elections can be arranged. After that, I'll be working with the reasoners to keep peace and order. It's important for Dargyn that we embrace the future. That's knowl
edge and new technologies. And as the one who inspired this, I have a special offer for you."

  He stepped in closer and put a hand on her arm. "I'm not king, but I will hold a great deal of power and influence in the new Dargyn," he said so only she and Nehko could hear. "With you by my side, we'd be unstoppable."

  "And there I thought you'd discarded the draakin like midden worms," she replied tartly.

  His eyes flashed dangerously. "You should be on your knees before the real power of Dargyn."

  "Don't you mean on my back?" she replied.

  He smiled. "As you wish."

  She snorted and pulled back her arm. "Only when I'm dead."

  "That can be arranged." His eyes widened as Nehko rose, looming over him, eyes wide. He licked his lips and took a step back. "I jest," he said, trying to regain some dignity. "As a matter of fact, the republic is still in need of the draakin. Don't think I've forgotten the part you played in my victory. We should remember the real enemy—the magin. Even now, there are more out there. We will need your help to find them before the war breaks out again."

  Ara looked at him through narrowed eyes. "Very well, but only because I've had enough of death and killing. The draakin are at your disposal. In this capacity," she added.

  "Of course you are," he said, as if there was any doubt. "I have people working on a long range device for communication. Once they have it installed, I can call on you as necessary."

  Ara nodded. "Fine."

  He stepped away. "This is all for Dargyn. To make a better country for every man, woman, and child."

  "Of course it is," she replied. As he walked away, she muttered, "And it has nothing to do with all the power that went to your head." To Nehko she added, "We'll have to watch him."

  Indeed. He is dangerous.

  "He always was. He's also in charge. For now."

  You think it won't last?

  "I think it will, that's what worries me." She looked toward the reasoners who followed the general as he walked down the street. People would either be scared of them or want to join them. A job like that attracted the very best of people, and the very worst.