Cedric
Cedric stood as the page tightened the straps of his armor across his back, his chain mail clinking in the process.
“There you are, m'lord,” the servant said as he circled Cedric, eyeing him up and down. “Here is your helmet.”
Cedric settled the helmet over his head, flipping the visor up, wishing that he had no need of the heavy raiment. The helmet severely limited his peripheral vision, and running was challenging beneath the armor's weight.
He gripped the hilt of the broadsword that lay on the table and prepared to exit the armory.
Lanier stood in the doorway, his dark eyes expressionless. Cedric halted and tensed. The armory all at once felt too small.
Lanier entered the room.“You seem ready, Cedric. The King has primed the crowd so they are bursting with excitement to see the Dragon-Master.”
“Are the four Dragons in the field already?”
“Aye.”
“And the Dimn?” Cedric had wanted Jack-Boy and Natan's abilities to shine in the hopes that the King would pull them up in the ranks after the Tournament. Their families could certainly use the higher wages.
Lanier motioned to the page to leave. The young boy scurried out the door, and the resulting silence echoed with tension. Lanier came close and gripped Cedric's right arm to adjust his gauntlet.
“Cedric, you will find that I am a man true to my word. Unlike some other men in this room.” He stepped back.
Cedric blinked at him from under the helmet. “I do not catch your meaning.”
Anger flushed Lanier's face. “How can you not? How dare you petition the King for my place at the head of his armies?”
Cedric shook his head. “I have done no such thing. I had nothing to do with it.”
Doubt shaded Lanier's eyes.
“My lord, I swear it. Why would I ask for such a duty? Believe me, I'm troubled enough by my position as Dragon-Master.”
Lanier stared at him for a long moment and eventually sighed. “You are young, Cedric, and you will find as you gain years that not everyone is as forthcoming as you. I hope that you maintain this sheen of honesty for a long time yet.” He bowed curtly. “Your horse awaits.”
Cedric steeled his spine and pulled his visor down, striding into the hall behind Lanier as the two made their way out the exit and into the noise of a thousand witnesses.
* * *
The thundering roars of four Dragons shook the arena, and chills crunched Cedric's scalp. Ember was one of the Dragons. He had debated about where to place the Dragon in the brackets, hoping at first to keep him from advancing into the army. He had mapped out bracket after bracket until he had a fairly good idea that Ember would lose on a double elimination basis. At all costs, he wanted to keep Ember with him, and up until yesterday, he had assumed that would be at the palace.
But Sebastian's announcement the evening before had sent him back to the drawing board in a panic. The King obviously had planned a trap for him, appointing him to the head of his armies when he had absolutely no military experience. Cedric thought of the stories; rumor had it that the King's court counselor had displeased him months ago. After the man had offered advice that went against Sebastian's plans, he, too, had disappeared. Cedric stood in a tenuous position. If he had to fall into one of Sebastian's notorious traps, best he have Ember with him. That way, he stood a fighting chance.
West Ashwynd teetered on the brink of a war that Cedric could not stop. He would be called away from The Crossings, and his connection with Ember would be severed. He couldn't bear that; the Dragon and he had formed a tight bond. Though psuche still eluded them, it was his greatest hope that they would soon achieve it.
An extra loud roar from a Dragon set Cedric's horse into a half-rear, and then the animal tried to break free with the bit in his teeth. Cedric strained to keep the horse under control, tightening the reins until the animal's nose nearly touched his chest.
His glove stroked soothingly down the gelding's neck, and as soon as the horse was back under control again, Cedric loosened the reins. Armed guards followed him to the field as he spurred his horse toward the arena entrance.
The stands were crowded with screaming, cheering people set high above the field where the Dragons paced restlessly. Jack Boy and Natan were already checking the chains that kept the Dragons against the high walls.
There were two Poison-Quills, one Nine-Tail, and of course, Ember. As soon as he entered the field, Ember's eyes locked on Cedric's figure. A connection thrummed between them.
Cedric found the royal box where Sebastian leaned across the arm of his chair, his attention solely focused on Lianna's fair face. Jealousy streaked through him. Lianna studied the Dragons, but the words Sebastian spoke to her seemed to distress her.
The royal wedding was set to take place the day after closing festivities, and Cedric was running out of time to help Lianna escape from her dangerous betrothal to the King.
The trumpets sounded, and the crowd grew deafening. Sebastian at last turned his attention to the field, nodding to Cedric to begin.
Cedric raised his sword, his signal for Jack Boy and Natan to stand with their Dragons. He motioned for the fourth Dimn, Gustav, to enter the field. Gustav dismounted, throwing the reins to another guard nearby, and jogged across toward one of the Poison-Quills, his heavy armor abundant proof of his physical strength.
Only after his Dimn had stationed themselves near their Dragons did Cedric dismount and walk toward Ember.
When he arrived, he turned and brandished his sword in the air once more, his sign to shut the gate.
The massive doors closed on the field, and they were all trapped inside.
The Dimn waited for his signal. He nodded, and the Dragons' chains dropped free from their latches, the links swinging loosely from the collars and creating a serious menace to the Dimn.
The Dragons felt their freedom and, obeying the commands of their Dimn, dove into the middle of the field, their roars shaking the ground.
Jack-Boy's shouts broke through to his Dragon. His Poison-Quill skidded to a stop just before the other three Dragons collided head on in the middle of the arena, and the beast lashed his bristling tail toward the others, throwing them all off balance.
Natan strode to where his Nine-Tail could see him better, motioning with his hands to show what he wanted the Dragon to do. The Dragon turned his back to the other three Dragons, his tail splitting into three whirling dervishes of three tails apiece, lashing the sensitive snouts of the other beasts.
Gustav ran toward the screaming, brawling beasts, sword drawn and waving as he headed for Ember. Gustav's Poison-Quill swelled up like a balloon, and with one huge blast, quills exploded into the air, raining down sharp stinging spikes on the others. Jack-Boy was too close. He scrambled back, but three of the quills stuck in his chain mail. He gingerly picked them off, careful not to brush the tips across any part of his flesh. The Poison-Quill immediately sprouted new quills, and Gustav continued calling instructions.
Natan, meanwhile, grunted in pain as one of his own Dragon's tails caught him across the stomach. He crawled closer to the wall to the boos and hisses of the audience.
Cedric shouted instructions to Ember, but most of his shouts were lost inside the helmet. He swung the visor up, but gasped in irritation as his progress across the field was alarmingly slow. He needed to be there now, needed to walk Ember through it. If they had achieved psuche, he could have connected with his beast without even talking. Frustration filled him. His Dragon fought, fought madly, but with little strategy, something unusual for him. Usually, the beast sized up the situation before attacking.
It must be the screaming crowds.
“You'll have to get used to the clamor,” he yelled at Ember. “Battlefields are no enclosed mausoleum.”
Gustav's Poison-Quill clamped his razor sharp teeth on Ember's neck as the Dragon swung around to Cedric's shout. Ember screamed, wrenching away, and
Cedric panicked. Without a second thought, he stripped off his gauntlets and his armor, ripping at the straps and chain mail, and pelted in tunic and breeches and broadsword toward the Dragons.
The stands went wild. This was what they loved to see—a spectacle, something different from the normal course of fighting.
Cedric neared the Dragons, and without thinking twice, jumped onto Ember's twisting, writhing hide. He climbed past the fiery spines to Ember's neck, aiming for the Poison-Quill's jaws that clamped around Ember's blazing scales.
He lifted the sword above his head and brought the razor sharp edge down onto the Poison-Quill's snout. The Dragon screamed and released Ember's neck. Ember twisted backward. Cedric clung to the beast's neck as Ember spread his wings and lifted into the air.
A high net of chains overarched the stands to prevent the Dragons from flying too high, but enough space remained for the beasts to lift and turn should they take to the air.
Ember lifted. Cedric urged him higher, until the chains were scant feet above them, and then they turned, swooping toward the three fighting Dragons.
As they dove, Ember's scales heated in a fury, and by the time they reached the ground, Cedric was enveloped in a ball of solid flame.
The scorching heat burned viciously, but Cedric hoped and prayed that his Dragondimn status would save him from the worst of the damage.
Ember barreled into the midst of the three Dragons, and the moment he hit the ground, the energy that had surged into the ball exploded in all directions. Both Poison-Quills and the Nine-Tail were knocked backward into quivering heaps on the ground.
Gustav hit the dirt face first. Jack-Boy and Natan hovered near the corners of the arena as the fire rolled over them.
Then it was quiet.
The Dragons picked themselves up slowly from the blackened earth, watching their Dimn, who were either too stunned to react or insensate on the ground.
The other beasts hissed at Ember, but they could manage nothing more than that.
The fire had died to mere flickers across Ember's scales, and Cedric couldn't feel his arms and legs, so tightly was he clinging to the Dragon. His clothes and boots had burned away. Losing one's garments to Dragonfire was always a hazard for a Dragondimn, but most of the time, the fire-resistant coating that his clothes received kept such embarrassment at bay.
Ember's fire had been too hot. Cedric glanced up at the stands where everyone was still, hushed, in awe of the beast's great gifts. And then he slipped into unconsciousness.
* * *
This time when he woke into his dreamworld, the sea thundered against the beach, a slow pounding tempo that echoed off the cliffs rising starkly into the evening sky.
Warmth drew Cedric toward the cave glowing within the cliffs. Awe riveted his gaze to the two Embers huddled inside. The she-Dragon lowered her snout to her mate's, sniffing carefully, and a moment later, the male opened his mouth. The burnished, glowing egg that Cedric had seen in the earlier dream rolled off the Dragon’s tongue to rest between the she-Dragon's claws.
The egg drew Cedric forward; the current of connection was irresistible. He stepped quietly through the sand, careful to approach from an angle, cautious to remain upwind and out of sight.
When at last he edged along the deep shadows of the cliff to the entrance, the she-Dragon had circled the egg in her long tail. She spewed a stream of fire on it. When she stopped for breath, her mate bathed the egg in fire.
Back and forth, the two submerged the egg in its flaming inferno, and in the center, the egg glowed brighter and hotter.
The heat on Cedric's face intensified, but did not deter him. He was dazzled by the brilliance of the egg.
With a loud crack, the glowing ball ruptured. Both Dragons stopped their maelstrom, and the she-Dragon gently tapped the egg with a talon.
The cracks shot rays of glittering light to all corners of the cave, and Cedric, caught in one of the beams, shielded his eyes. Loud reverberation echoed against the walls as the egg shattered beneath the she-Dragon's talons.
Cedric slipped inside the cave's entrance, straining to see around the two Embers who proudly nosed the egg's occupant.
He craned his neck to see the new Dragon, and then stumbled back, gasping. His back thudded against the stone wall
In the remains of the shell, he had not seen a baby Ember, its fiery wings withered and small in the newness of life.
Two tiny figures lay curled amongst the remains of the egg.
Twins. Human twins.
Cedric strained for another look. The babes lay curled against the she-Dragon's fiery scales. Deep, caressing rumbles shook her throat as she nosed their soft scalps. Her mate huffed a smoke ring over the thatches of red hair that covered the heads of both babes.
Cedric clutched his own hair in his fists and crouched beside the cave wall, watching the beasts in their joy.
What did it mean?
* * *
A hand gently lifted Cedric's arm, and he opened his eyes.
The palace apothecary bent over him, moistening his face with a damp cloth. “Ah, I see you are back with us, m'lord.”
Cedric was still mystified by his dream. The heat and the Dragons and the birth had seemed so real. He struggled to pull his mind back to reality. “Aye, so it appears.”
“You are fortunate it was no worse. I have seen even the best Dimn with burns worse than this when their Dragon tries to roast them. And you were on an Ember. My lord is very lucky,” he said. He pulled aside the blanket that covered Cedric's legs to dab some pasty salve on his burns.
The apothecary's hands paused. His face whitened beneath his beard.
“I suppose I must have tough skin.”
“Aye, only the kind Dragondimn have, m'lord.” Something in the apothecary's voice caught Cedric's attention. The man capped the salve without applying it.
“There is something you're not saying.”
The apothecary shook his head and turned back to the shelf where he kept his supplies. “Nay, my lord.”
Cedric sat up and glanced at his burn marks. Or where his burns marks should have been.
His skin was as smooth as a babe's. Not even a tinge of redness marred his legs.
“Alistair.” Cedric's voice turned the apothecary. The man's hands shook.
“I—I've never seen anything like it, my lord. It—It's almost like a Dragon with its scales, how you’ve regenerated so quickly. I saw your burns when they brought you in. They were—well, I've seen worse, but they weren't insignificant. But now, they've just—disappeared.”
“As would any Dragondimn's, right?” Cedric asked, confusion and unnamed terror stirring inside him.
“Nay, my lord. Burns as severe as yours, even on a Dragondimn, should have taken at least a few days to heal.”
Silence fell, and at last, Cedric stood. “Say nothing of this, Alistair.” He shrugged on a clean tunic hanging over a chair.
“Aye, my lord.”
Cedric cinched a belt around his waist and slid on his boots. As he left the room, in his mind's eye, the rupturing egg shattered again and again. Each time, a set of red-haired twins curled closer to flaming scales.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Sebastian
Sebastian pulled a mutton leg from the platter set in front of him and dug his teeth into it. It wasn't like him to eat late at night or to disturb his normal daily routine, but the excitement and clamor of the Tournament was seeping through his thick defenses.
After the stands had emptied for the day, and he had retreated to the armory and badgered his servants into dressing him in his mail, he had climbed onto his horse and run down the fences of the jousting field, taking the heads off of the stationary targets that lined the rails.
He had been ravenous, and the castle had gone to bed. He’d had to woke a few kitchen servants to serve him.
Sebastian wiped his mouth and took a sip from his goblet, washing down the me
at with the mead from his own cellars.
A noise drew his attention. His former head general, Lanier, stood in the doorway, his dark eyes hooded and brooding.
“Lanier,” Sebastian waved him over. “Come, partake with me.”
Lanier stepped forward, but did not sit.
Sebastian knew what was coming, and he steeled his resolve. He raked his eyes over Lanier's garb, the battle garments from earlier that day, and took another bite. “It appears you cannot sleep.”
“Why did you make it seem as if Cedric had petitioned you to be head of your armies?” Lanier's voice was soft, dangerous. Sebastian shot him another look, his fingers digging into the meat to peel some off the joint. He wedged it into his mouth.
“The boy wanted a chance, and he does have a way with Dragons.”
“The boy has no military experience, Your Grace, and Dragons will not win the war.”
Sebastian snorted with derision, dropping the cleaned bone onto his plate with a clink and picking up the other steaming leg of mutton. “Not by themselves, no, but any army that embraces the talents of its most fearsome beasts is sure to win.”
“Nicholas Erlane will have Dragons, too.”
“All the more reason for my Dragon-Master to be at the head of my armies, don't you think, Lanier?”
“Do you assume that Nicholas Erlane does not have a Dragon-Master, one or many? Your Grace, Cedric knows nothing of battle strategy. He is still a boy in many ways. You take a huge risk by giving him the responsibility of the helm.”
Sebastian once again dropped his mutton bone on his platter and pushed the plate away from him, wiping the grease from his mouth and gulping down the rest of the mead. He stood and released a belch.
“Come, Lanier, you begin to sound like a jealous woman.”
Anger flashed through Lanier's dark eyes. “Nay, Your Grace, I am only concerned for the welfare of your kingdom.”
“Aye, my kingdom.” Sebastian's voice was hard as he stood directly in front of Lanier, staring him down. “So you will allow me the courtesy of running my kingdom's affairs as I see fit.”
Kindle the Flame (Heart of a Dragon Book 1) Page 25