Dragon's Curse (The Hearts of Dragons Book 1)

by Lee Hayton

  Dragon’s Curse

  The Hearts of Dragons Book One

  Lee Hayton

  Copyright © 2018 Lee Hayton

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  With Thanks to Real Indie Author Services

  Cover Design by kathay1973

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  About the Author

  Also by Lee Hayton

  Chapter One

  Shandra Kemp gave the wheel of the trap a kick in disgust. Pain ignited in her toes, traveling up her leg to lodge in her knee. Damn it. As she hopped on the spot, Shandra thought the agony of a crushed foot was a small price to exchange for the release of her pent-up tension.

  “This stupid wheel only needs to get us another mile, then we can unload and leave the cart in town if we have to.”

  Neither of her brothers paid Shandra the slightest bit of attention, too busy attacking each other with sticks picked up from the roadside. With the last heat of the day pounding down on the back of her neck and sweat dampening her underarms until all she could smell was her own musk, she wasn’t in the mood for their game play.

  She put her hands on her hips and tried to glare at them. The more intense they got, the harder it was to hide her smile at their antics. With pretend crossness, Shandra called out, “I don’t suppose either of you would like to lend a hand?”

  Halv turned toward her, the loss of attention earning him a swipe across the backside from his brother Ricci. “Ow.” He turned back to the fight, jousting forth with a parry and thrust. “For that, you will pay with the life of your first born!”

  “At least I’ll be able to have children,” Ricci said as he danced out of reach. “Good luck getting even the lowest wench from town to add you to her harem. I’d rather lose my first-born than die childless and alone.”

  Although Halv appeared to take the insult in good spirit, Ricci’s words appalled Shandra. He usually held his tongue better, but the trial of their journey had worn on everyone’s nerves.

  “Stop bickering and help me out with this damned wheel,” she said, fighting the urge to scold him. To do that would just draw attention to his hurtful words.

  Ricci looked much like Shandra, lanky and strong with sharp-cut features, except at age sixteen, he was seven years younger. Poor Halv couldn’t claim the same. At two years younger than his brother, he shared Shandra’s straight dark hair and deep brown eyes, but there the similarities ended. His build was short and squat, and that was putting it politely.

  If it hadn’t been for the long, hooked nose Halv had inherited from their father, Shandra might think a dwarf from the Thurgus Peaks had led their mother astray.

  As the eldest, Shandra normally managed her brothers with some finesse but the art of it escaped her today. The current breakdown had come hard on the heels of losing half their produce. A member of the overlord household had sped by, forcing them off the center line and tipping the cart.

  A dunking in the Eastbourne river had added insult to injury when their horse Starburst grew skittish and lost her footing, floating a few yards downstream. Now, as though a natural law decreed that all bad luck must arrive in threes, the axle had snapped.

  If they reached town by nightfall, it would be a miracle. Shandra reckoned they had maybe an hour or two of light left, and she was nowhere near close to fixing up the broken axle near the wheel mount.

  Even traveling at breakneck speed, they’d be lucky to make the overlord’s planned announcements. That meant an immediate fine, and the farm already needed every penny of the sale from their current load if they wanted to stave off the creditors.

  “Stop fooling around right now and help me!”

  The unexpected yell from their usually calm sister caused both brothers to turn to Shandra in astonishment. Ricci leaped over to help lift the cart up enough for her to get underneath and look at the wheel. Halv was more reticent about joining in, instead swishing his stick in a flourish of swordplay she would have admired on another day.

  “I don’t need to mate with some lowly harem-keeping wench.” Halv gave another parry and thrust while Shandra knocked out the peg holding the axle to the wheel and scanned the roadside for a sturdy replacement. “With moves like this, the overlord will appoint me as a commissioned officer in her army. When we parade through town after our victories, I’ll spit on your commoner sons.”

  “Can you hand this commoner that branch,” Shandra said, pointing. Her brother trotted over with his strange gait and plucked it off the ground. With a few more practice moves, he extended the end to her, and she banged it into place with the heel of her hand.

  It was an ugly fix, but it should hold until they reached the town center. If they avoided any further trouble, they might even make it in time.

  “Come on,” Shandra said, getting back onto the seat and picking up Starburst’s reins. “If you’re not on the bench in five seconds, you’re walking.”

  Ricci leaped onto her right-hand side and Halv grunted as he scrambled up on her left. Her youngest brother opened his mouth, ready to make one of his foolhardy comments. Shandra glared at him and gave a flick of the reins for Starburst to lead them down the well-worn track.

  Halv snapped his mouth shut again, whatever quip he’d been about to bestow on Shandra’s bad temper wisely left unsaid.

  Shandra and her brothers arrived in the village just before the announcements began. Unable to believe her luck, she took the weight of the cart off Starburst and hitched the mare up to a post near the grocers. Once the meeting finished, she could return to negotiate payment for their goods.

  “Stay here,” she ordered Halv and Ricci. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Without waiting to see if they’d obey her, Shandra slipped down a side alley to cut through to the main square. The chorus of shouts and cheers told her Wella Ufsprig, the overlord for their region, had just arrived. No matter that the village income had steadily dropped while she shunted the strongest men and women off to fight an unending series of battles, Wella remained popular. On the face of it, at least.

  As Shandra ran out into the main thoroughfare, she ended up in the trail of people crowding close to their leader. With her head down and neck stiff, she fought through the press of the group, popping out the other side just as Wella turned to trot her horse another length of the square.

  “Get out of the way!” Wella yelled down to a man just a few yards away from Shandra. He’d popped out the side of the crowd and now stood exactly where her mount wanted to be. With one vicious flick of her riding crop, Wella struck him on the cheek, sending him tumbling.

  Shandra cried and reached for the falling man, appalled at the sudden attack. He must be sixty if he was a day. She caught his elbow and dragged him away from the train of followers to a safe spot where he could catch his breath.

  “Are you okay?”

  The man tried to smile and removed his cupped hand from his face. Blood flowed in a gush from the deep cut Wella’s crop had inflicted. His smile turned into a horror show.

  Gasping, Shandra took out a kerchief—clean, thank goodness—and pressed it u
p against the wound. Within a second, it was soaked through.

  A tap came on her shoulder and Ricci extended a handful of material. Only after Shandra used it to stem the flow of blood from the injury did she realize it was her brother’s undershirt. She winced and hoped their dip in the stream on the way here had cleaned it sufficiently to keep the cut from infection.

  “Get over to the stage,” Ricci ordered. “I’ll take care of him. If you don’t show your face among the crowd, we’ll have made this journey just to earn a fine.”

  Shandra nodded. “Where’s your brother?”

  Ricci jerked his head toward the assembly and Shandra saw Halv waving from close by the platform. How he’d inveigled himself in there already, she didn’t know. Although he was the brother she felt the most concern for, his sudden displays of wile went partway toward setting her mind at rest.

  The reprimand for disobeying Shandra’s order to stay with their cart could wait until later. Wella mounted the steps to the side of the stage, and Shandra sprinted to make the edge of the assembly before the overlord could note her absence.

  “My people,” Wella began, then had to stop as a roar of approval came from the gathered crowd. After a moment, she waved her hands to get them to hush, but the sound continued.

  Halv darted back through the crush to Shandra, elbowing her in the ribs when she stood silent, looking fondly at him. “For goodness’ sake, shout.”

  Shandra shook herself and joined in the rousing cheer. The smile she plastered on her face didn’t match the concern beating in her chest, but Halv was right. If she didn’t go through the motions, it could end in her being singled out. No one wanted that.

  Wella shushed the group again and this time the crowd fell silent. “I have good news to bring you.”

  “That’ll be a change,” Halv whispered, making Shandra snort.

  “The dwarves who populate the Davelmiotas are falling before our warrior’s swords as I speak. We have mounted a full attack and although I expect losses, we shall triumph.”

  The onlookers roared again, but this time Shandra spotted worried faces amongst them. The mothers and fathers of those warriors headed into battle. Expecting losses was a code word for already having suffered them. Before Wella started her next sentence, Shandra already understood what she would say.

  “To keep our troops fresh for battle, we must have new blood entering the field at all times. Now is the time for all fit men and women of this region to step forward and be counted. Volunteer for victory!”

  Another cheer sounded but from the pinched expression on Wella’s face, even she’d noticed the enthusiasm had waned.

  “Who’ll step forward for this honor?”

  For long minutes, the crowd paused without the slightest movement. Then a man pushed his way forth from the back. “I’ll volunteer!”

  Shandra scanned the man from head to toe and her lips twisted. She’d seen the same person volunteer at a previous rally, the one that took her father and sent him off to join a battle he held no interest in. A fight he hadn’t returned from.

  The volunteer was a ringer. If no one else stepped forward, Wella would make a selection.

  Shandra tilted her head forward and thanked her lucky stars for their misfortune earlier in the day. Thanks to their run of bad luck, her hair was plastered against her skull in wet tangles and sweat or river water gunge stained her clothing. Mud caked one sleeve of her blouse from when she’d fixed the axle on the cart. She quickly wiped her finger through it to smear on her cheeks. If she looked like a vagrant, Wella might pass by her.

  Halv tried to shelter her from the overlord’s sight but at a foot shorter, it was an impossible task. Shandra slumped her shoulders and curled them forward, making herself smaller. Even with her head tipped forward, she could feel the weight of Wella’s sharp gaze searing along the top of her scalp.

  “You,” Wella called out, pointing to a man close to Shandra. He appeared forty or older and his expression transformed to horror.

  “I have children.”

  “Do you have a wife?”

  The man reluctantly nodded and the guards flanking Wella pulled him onstage.

  “You.”

  This time Shandra risked a glance up to find the woman’s finger pointed to her. She shook her head and tried to step backward but Wella’s glare intensified.

  “Please,” Shandra begged. “I have my underage brothers to look out for and the family farm to work.”

  “Don’t you have parents?” Wella said with a snort for emphasis.

  “They died in the last war,” Shandra said, planting her feet apart as the guards approached her. “I am my brothers only guardian. They’re aged fourteen and sixteen, so can’t fend for themselves.”

  Wella Ufsprig placed her hands on her hips, her expression turned to fury at Shandra’s challenge.

  “Aunts? Uncles? Older siblings? Cousins? You must have someone.”

  Shandra’s chin tilted upward and stiffened. Everyone she loved, including her precious parents and elder brother, had been fed into this woman’s war machine and spat out on some foreign field to rot. “There’s no one, ma’am. They’ve all perished.”

  “Fine.” Wella turned on her heel and scanned the crowd from the opposite side. “You will have a stay until your eldest sibling turns seventeen.”

  That only gained her a few months! Shandra puffed out her chest. “The law says twen—”

  “The law says whatever I want it to say!” Wella’s gaze turned back to Shandra, stabbing at her with fury. “Don’t try my patience.”

  Shandra nodded and saw one of the female warriors on the stage sending her a glance of sympathy. She swallowed the lump of useless pride lodged in her throat and bowed her head. “Thank you for your generosity.”

  A few months wouldn’t be enough to turn the fortunes of the farm around but perhaps she could find another loophole by the time they ended.

  Or the war might be a success, and everyone can come home, a snide voice in her mind suggested. Long live Wella Ufsprig, overlord of us all.

  Ricci jumped down from the cart just as the axle gave way and spilled Shandra and Halv out with no grace. “We should have used the money for extra stock. Even with all three of us working, there won’t be time to plant out the seeds before they rot.”

  Shandra picked herself up and led Starburst to the stables for a wipe down after her long trek. She didn’t bother to speak back to her brother. The money they’d received had been enough to buy stock or seed, but not both. If she’d spent the money on the animals, Ricci would have picked at her about how they had nothing to feed them with.

  In the economy of war, they couldn’t win.

  After Starburst was clean and rewarded with a nosebag of carrots for the journey, Shandra moved to the main barn and checked Halv had put the bags of seed in the right place. Concern for her brother steadily nibbled at her.

  Their farm was enormous and should rightly be his inheritance, but at the moment that scenario faced great peril. The war had taken all the good workers out of the community, leaving behind children and the elderly to fight to keep the land producing.

  Their holding was the largest in the region. Even with her head for numbers, it had now passed through so many generations Shandra couldn’t keep count.

  In each direction, for as far as she could see, the land belonged to their family farm. Without men and women to work it, many fields lay fallow and even the crops they grew would sometimes rot before the three could reap the harvest.

  The farm provided them with free food and a house over their heads, but without a way to turn the fields to profit, they couldn’t keep ahead of the growing bevy of new taxes. Without spare money in the family purse, they’d never reap enough produce to settle the requirements of the army. The fines would continue to grow, more than anything they planted on the land.

  Another year like the last one, and moneylenders would own more of the farm than they did. Two, and Shandra and her br
others wouldn’t own any of it at all.

  Ricci would fare okay—with his physique, he would soon join a harem or become a warrior when he grew old enough—but Halv? The squat boy wouldn’t attract an offer from either. He’d be destitute.

  Shandra wiped a few beads of sweat off her forehead, the usual jangle of warring needs playing out in the back of her brain. In a minute, she’d head inside to make sure her brothers were fed and cleaned before they went to bed, but she needed just a few more seconds of time to herself.

  The heavy tread of a man’s footsteps ruined that. In an instance as Shandra was on full alert. Had Wella changed her mind and sent a guard to fetch her after all? The overlord had done worse things to her family.

  She went to the door of the barn, choosing a peephole to spy out of before she showed herself to the visitor. The man wasn’t known to her. He only appeared to have a few years on Shandra, maybe aged thirty but not much more. He was lanky and the tousled brown hair falling across his face made him look playful. When he swept it back with a hand, it revealed a set of blue eyes, twinkling even as his expression turned cautious.

  He wore no insignia. Shandra imagined he must be from a different region with different rules.

  Get out there and find out for yourself!

  She moved her eye from the peephole and smoothed her hair before exiting the barn. “Can I help you?”

  The man turned to her with a friendly smile that clouded over with doubt in a split second. Too late, Shandra remembered the mud she’d smeared over her face. She looked down at herself at the same time the stranger did, seeing the stains and bedraggled clothing of a long journey.

  “I hope we can help each other,” the man said, recovering his composure and stepping forward with his hand extended. “I’m Mal Sand.”