Dragon Call (The Throne of the Dragon Queen Book 2)

by Clare Smith

  For a full minute he stared down at it, too shocked to move. The naked body was cut and mutilated almost beyond recognition, but there was only the one wound deep enough to kill him outright. The boy’s wrists were chaffed bloody where the ropes had bound him, and both ankles were cut through to the bone with Li Ang’s attempts to twist away from the blades which had been thrown at him.

  Lying there with his flesh cut open in dozens of places he looked small, thin and pathetic. The boy, who could scarcely have been ten years old, had been an urchin and a thief, but he didn’t deserve to die like that. In fact he didn’t deserve to die at all. The last words he’d spoken to him echoed through his mind, and the promise to protect him, which he’d so glibly made but had made no real effort to keep. His sorrow turned to guilt and he wiped the wetness from his eyes and then his guilt turned to anger.

  This wasn’t his fault, but the fault of all those with wealth and power who did nothing to help the thousands of unwanted children who lived off Chang’an’s streets. More than that, Li Ang’s death was the fault of the Brotherhood who had taken this insignificant life and destroyed it for no better reason than to show how easily a man could die. How many others had died for the same reason or as part of the rituals that made people live in fear and kept a few men in positions of power?

  He’d killed one such man, and according to Kingquin had taken some sort of spirit from him, so that if it wasn’t returned to the Ban Long brotherhood they would eventually fade away. If that were so, what would happen if he killed the Master of his own brotherhood and took that spirit away? Surely with the two brotherhoods gone and with them their rituals and contract killings, Chang’an would be a better place and less young, innocent lives would be lost.

  It was an idea which had never occurred to him before and, for a moment, he wondered if he’d changed when the Ban Long’s spirit had entered him. Perhaps he had changed and would change again if he took Cheum’s life, but he didn’t care as long as this evil, which cared nothing for innocent lives, was destroyed. Carefully he replaced the shroud and took a step back.

  He didn’t believe in being reborn again, or in the shadow life, but he made a silent promise to Li Ang that he would avenge his death and set his spirit free, and this time he vowed to keep his promise, even if it cost him his life to do it.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

  The Crystal Cave

  Mount Kriphis

  Amalaya had been awake for a long time thinking about her life and the way things had turned out. When she’d been a child, before her first foretelling, she’d taken it for granted that when she came of age, her father would find her a husband and she would become the mistress of a small estate just like her mother had before her. After her first foretelling things had changed, and she knew that as a priestess, she would never marry, although that hadn’t stopped her from wondering what it would be like to lay with a man.

  Now her future would be completely different. She would never be married or become the mistress of an estate, but she would have a husband and know what it was to be loved by a man. Pellecus hadn’t said anything of course about living together as a man and a woman should and having children, but she knew that’s what he wanted all the same.

  In the last month, since he’d told her about his past, he’d become a different person and had spent every waking minute with her, showing her how to do things and how to turn her cave into a home. She had responded to his attentions and had rapidly learnt everything he’d taught her, so now she was ready to be his woman even if she couldn’t be his wife. All he had to do was take her in his arms, whisper the right words in her ear and show her how a man and a woman might please each other.

  Of course Pellecus was shy and might take a little time to make that move, but she was certain that the day was drawing near. Last night they had sat so close together they had almost touched, and when the evening meal was over, he had lingered for a long time as if he wanted to say something. Amalaya smiled to herself and hoped that today he would tell her how he felt and her life would change forever.

  With that thought in mind she slipped from her pallet and quickly dressed, wishing she had something different to wear on what she was certain was going to be a memorable day. She straightened her blanket and then found the teasel which Pellecus had given to her so she could brush her hair. It was a prickly thing and difficult to hold, but now her hair had grown to almost shoulder length it was more effective as a comb than her fingers.

  When she’d finished, she replaced the teasel on the natural stone ledge and walked to the mouth of the cave. Spring was reaching its end, and the early summer sun was already strong enough to heat the air despite the early hour. That was probably a good thing, as Pellecus had let the fire burn out in order that he could clean out the ashes, and replace some of the stones around the edge of the small pit.

  It seemed a strange thing to do as in the two months they had been there, he’d never before felt the need to do such a thing. Still he was a warrior and they knew about such things as keeping fires, so she hadn’t questioned him. She crossed to the spring and washed her hands and face and then completed the circuit until she stood in front of the empty fire pit.

  “Good morning, Pellecus.”

  “Good morning, Amalaya. What foretelling has the goddess sent to you whilst you have slept?”

  “None, the goddess hasn’t spoken to me.”

  She waited for the end of the ritual when Pellecus would take out the piece of wood from his belt pouch and carve it with his knife, but this morning he just gave a deep sigh and remained statue still. When she was certain that he wasn’t going to do what he always did, she moved around the outside of the fire pit and sat next to him feeling a little uncertain. Usually there would be oats cooking, and he would scoop out a bowl full and hand it to her for breakfast, but today there was no fire and no oats.

  That wasn’t the only thing which was different; there was something about Pellecus which had changed. It wasn’t anything physical, of that she was certain, but there was a tenseness about him that hadn’t been there before, as if he was waiting to spring into action. He also held something which smelled of leather and metal, sweat and blood. It made her skin crawl with apprehension.

  “What have you got there, Pellecus?”

  “It’s my sword.”

  She could hear him ease the blade from the scabbard so that the smell of hard metal and his sweating hand increased. “Why have you brought it here?”

  For a long moment he said nothing, and then made her jump by ramming the blade back into the scabbard and leaping to his feet. “I’ve found the mark of a wolf nearby, and I need to track the beast down before it attacks and kills the goats. I will be gone all day, so you must stay close to the cave and not leave the area. Do you understand?”

  She nodded, taken aback by the harshness of his tone. If he’d stayed where he was, she would have asked him when he would be back, but she heard the stone grind beneath his heel as he turned away and his heavy foot fall as he strode from the camp. She listened as he walked swiftly down the path in the direction of where the cart stood until she couldn’t hear him anymore.

  The sharpness in his voice and the speed of his departure confused her, especially as she thought that today would be the day when he would confess his feelings for her. However, she guessed that finding wolf tracks so close to the camp would put him on edge, especially as there was no fire to keep a wild animal at bay. It should have worried her too, but she was confident that Pellecus would track the marauder down, kill it and return to her by nightfall.

  Being alone for a day didn’t bother her so much now, and she had plenty of things to keep her occupied. There were the goats to milk, although that didn’t take long now as several of them were nursing kids. Then there was the cheese to attend to. The second making had now matured and was ready to move to clean pots, and the latest making needed to be drained. That would be ready when the olives wer
e ripe, and the thought of eating the two together made her mouth water.

  Before the olives could be collected she needed to make some baskets to put them in which was proving to be a challenge. Pellecus had collected long strands of dried grass, and had tried to teach her how to weave them together to make a basket, only all her attempts so far had fallen to pieces the moment she put anything inside of them. Her failure could have been her fault, but she suspected that her tutor’s basket making skills were as inadequate as her own.

  She was determined to make it work though just so she could show Pellecus that she was better at something than him. That thought made her smile, and she set about the day’s tasks with a light heart despite Pellecus’s sudden departure. When the goats came to be milked she sang a song to them which she’d learnt as a child, and she even managed to transfer the mature cheese to the new pots without once cursing her clumsiness.

  For her lunch she ate the bits of cheese which wouldn’t fit into the pots, along with a strip of smoked goat’s meat, and then took a short nap when the day was at its hottest before starting on the basket weaving. It was frustrating work, and despite her efforts, the basket kept falling apart, so she was glad when the goats returned for their second milking. There wasn’t enough milk to turn into cheese and they had enough of that anyway, so she put it in a small pot suitable for drinking and took it to her seat by the fire pit.

  She thought that Pellecus would have been back by now, but supposed that he had to track the wolf a long way. Now she thought about it, it seemed odd that he should have gone down the pathway which would eventually lead to the valley, instead of upwards into the wilder lands where wolves and wild dogs usually lived. That thought nagged at her until she pushed it to one side and decided she needed to do something to take her mind off being alone.

  When Pellecus returned he would be tired and hungry, and whilst she couldn’t light a fire, she could at least place the wood in the fire pit so all he would have to do was set light to it. Pleased with her idea, she hurried over to where the wood was usually stacked, but all she could find was a few twigs and some bark which had peeled off some of the larger branches. She sighed in disappointment guessing that Pellecus had already laid the fire in preparation for his return.

  She went back to the fire pit but instead of sitting on the log and waiting for him she crouched down and stretched out her hand towards the pile of wood. There was nothing there, or at least there was no wood, only a large pile of cold ash. That made her frown as Pellecus had said that he’d let the fire out so he could remove the accumulated ash, but surely he would have done that this morning before leaving rather than having to do it when he returned home hungry and tired?

  A small tremor of fear pulsed through her which she instantly dispelled. There had to be a good reason for Pellecus’s strange behaviour, and she thought she knew what it was. Pellecus was a Spartan warrior who had no expectation of ever having a woman of his own, so he was probably having difficulty coming to terms with his new role and needed time to himself to work things out. That would explain why he had his sword with him this morning, as it was something familiar to hang onto whilst his life changed.

  She knew how confusing it could be when things around you changed, and felt a wave of sympathy for the man who must have made up the story about the wolf so that he could go off alone and have time to think. Well, he’d had long enough, it was time that he told her how he felt. Determined that she would bring him back with her, she collected her pole from the cave, walked the circuit of the outside area until she found the path downwards and set off feeling reasonably confident.

  Walking down the path was easier than it had been before, especially with the long pole to aid her, although she still managed to stumble at the path’s edge when it changed direction. This time, when she reached the olive tree at the path’s end she was ready for it, and stopped without bruising her fingers. The memory of her last visit came back to her, so that instead of cautiously side stepping until she found the wagon as she had before, she turned to her left and walked straight forwards.

  Previously she’d taken a dozen faltering steps before she’d come across the cart, but after twenty paces she still hadn’t found it. Berating herself for not being able to walk in a straight line she turned around, took two steps to the side and walked back in the direction she had come. She was certain that she would find the cart this time, but by the time she’d counted out twenty paces, all she’d found was the stone edge of the pathway.

  Pushing down the disquiet inside of her, she repeated the process, crossing and recrossing the small clearing, until it narrowed into the track which led down into the valley. She cursed now, certain that she had somehow missed the cart by just a fraction, and quickly turned so she could walk across the clearing in another direction. It was then that her foot caught against something which wasn’t stone but was almost as solid.

  She bent down and picked it up, turning it over in her hands whilst she felt its shape and texture. It was a piece of wood, but not like something which would have fallen from a tree. This was cut to a precise size so it would fit comfortably into a belt pouch. One side had been planed smooth and felt oily where it had been frequently handled, whilst the other was scarred with notches. Her sensitive fingers ran over, them telling her that the small lines were separated into groups and each group was cut through with a diagonal line. Only the last group remained incomplete.

  The tremor of fear which she’d tried so hard to quell rose inside her as she held the piece of wood to her nose and breathed in the scent. Despite the strong smell of resin which had been heated in the afternoon sun she could smell where the wood had been held by sweating hands and the bruised smell where the knife had cut the fibres of the wood as each mark was carved. The tally could have belonged to someone else but she knew it didn’t. It was the one Pellecus had carved each morning they had been together.

  The awful truth struck her then; Pellecus had gone and wasn’t coming back. Instead of loving her as she’d thought, she’d just been a burden to him and he’d been counting down the days until he could be free of her. He’d thought so little of her that he’d left her to fend for herself without a word of explanation or farewell, and knowing that her chances of survival in this wild and barren land were very small indeed.

  His betrayal made her breath catch in her throat and her legs weaken, until she could no longer stand, and she crumpled to the stony ground with the wooden tally clutched to her breast. For a long time her mind was too numb to come to terms with what had happened, and all she could do was rock backwards and forwards in misery whispering his name. She had been betrayed yet again, but this betrayal was far worse than the previous ones, when only her eyes had been taken from her. This time her betrayer had taken her heart and she would never be the same again.

  Eventually a sound broke through her pain and she lifted her head and wiped away the dampness on her face. A breeze had sprung up telling her that evening was approaching and with it, the coldness of a late spring night. To her right she could hear the branches of old olive trees creaking in the wind, and to the left the whispering of long grass, but that wasn’t the sound which had pulled her from her misery.

  That sound had been further away but pitched high enough to travel on the breeze. Wolves ranged these hills and, for a moment, the animal’s cry gave her a sudden surge of hope that Pellecus had indeed gone hunting the marauder as he’d said. She pushed that thought down before it overwhelmed her again. Pellecus had gone, and if she ever saw him again it wouldn’t be to welcome him back but to plunge a knife into his worthless heart.

  The wolf called again sending a shudder of fear through her. Moments before she’d thought that she wanted to die, but the call of the predator had made her realise how much she wanted to live, if only to have revenge on those who had betrayed her. When the call came again she tried to estimate its direction and distance which was difficult to do, but she guessed it was a long way away
and moving away from her.

  That should have made her feel better, but it didn’t. She knew how quickly a wolf could move, and all it would need would be to catch her scent on the breeze and it would be after her. She needed to get back to the safety of the cave, so with the aid of her pole she pulled herself to her feet and tried to work out where she was. That wasn’t easy as her search for the cart had left her disorientated.

  She thought that the track which led down to the valley was behind her because that was where she’d found the tally which Pellecus must have thrown away when he left. If the cart had still been there it would have been directly in front of her with the old olive tree in a straight line beyond. That meant the path leading up to her cave must be opposite her and slightly to the right.

  Throwing away the evidence of her betrayal, she made half a turn to her right and set off across the clearing trying to walk as straight a line as possible. She knew when she reached the other side as the rough stone and tufts of grass at the edge of the clearing made her footing unstable. To the left she was certain she could hear the branches of the old olive tree moving in the wind, so she turned further to the right and made her way around the edge until the roughness beneath her feet gave way to smooth stone.

  It seemed to her that she’d walked a long way around the clearing before she found the pathway, but didn’t go back and try again in case she completely lost her bearings. Carefully she followed the well trodden path giving a sigh of relief as it started climbing steadily upwards. It wasn’t until the pole, which she swung from side to side in front of her, began hitting raised stone on either side that she realised this wasn’t the path she wanted. Instead it was probably a track which had been worn smooth by generations of goats.

  She was disappointed but not too worried as it was simple enough to turn around, retrace her footsteps back to the clearing and find the path she really needed. Slowly she turned and went back downhill tapping her pole against the edge of the path to guide her way. She didn’t notice when the path levelled out, but when it started to climb again she stopped, knowing that somehow she’d gone wrong.