Dragon Rise

by D. K. Holmberg

As he feared, there was another person bound inside this wagon.

  They were older, probably in their forties or fifties, and the woman had peppered black hair that was disheveled from time in the wagon. Bruises along her face and arm stuck out in the moonlight. Her dress was tattered, and she blinked as she looked up at him.

  He raised a finger to his lips.

  “Who are you?” he whispered to her.

  “Please—”

  Fes reached into the wagon and clasped a hand on her mouth. She was going to be too loud, and he couldn’t have that, not until he understood what was taking place here. So far, he didn’t know, and until he understood, he wasn’t comfortable releasing her. He didn’t want her to make too much noise, because if she did, whoever had captured him would appear and if they had crossbows, there was only so much he could do against them.

  Somehow, he had to figure out what Arudis did when she froze people. If he could figure that out, he wouldn’t have to fear weapons like that.

  “I’m not the one responsible for your capture. I was captured too, and escaped.” He gradually removed his hand from her mouth and looked over at her. “What happened with you?”

  “We were in our village, and they came for us. I… I don’t know what happened. They bound us and put me in this wagon.”

  “How long have you been in it?”

  She shook her head. “Days. Weeks. I don’t know.”

  “Who took you? Did you know them?”

  “They came to my village. They destroyed it.”

  Fes tensed. He turned his attention back to the fire, suddenly much more afraid than he had been before. Could Alison have brought him to the Damhur? Could she have arranged it so that he was now captured by those who could control his Deshazl side? If she had, then even his newfound understanding of his magic might not be enough.

  Fes remembered all too well the way he had felt compelled. It had drawn on him, and had Arudis not been there, he doubted that he would have been able to resist.

  “What village?”

  “Salina.”

  Fes frowned. He’d heard that village name before, but where? How was it that he knew it?

  It came to him, albeit slower than it should have.

  The fisherman.

  This woman was from his village, one of the few that he hadn’t been able to save. And if she had been drawn out by the Calling, it meant that she had Deshazl blood within her.

  Fes took a step back, looking around the row of wagons. How many of these did?

  Possibly all of them. And if they did, if they all were Called, Fes had to do something to help them, didn’t he?

  Only… How could he when he couldn’t resist that magic on his own?

  Chapter Thirteen

  He crept slowly, moving along the line of wagons carefully. Fes counted as he went, trying to get a sense of how many wagons there were, curious to discover exactly what numbers they were dealing with, all the while wondering how Alison could be a part of this.

  It showed Fes how little he knew about Alison. If she were involved, if the rest of the rebellion was involved, then he hadn’t known anything about her at all, had he?

  And it meant Arudis had been right about this. Had she been right about everything she’d told him?

  He paused at a few of the wagons, trying to get a sense of whether they were all locked. From what he could tell, they were, and there didn’t seem to be anything that would easily unlock them. It meant that the people were trapped here, much as he had suspected.

  Fes moved away from the wagons, heading toward the campfire. He kept it in sight, approaching it slowly. With his cloak, he managed to be shadowed, though not nearly as much as he would prefer. It would be better were he able to conceal himself more effectively, but trapped here, he was forced to approach openly.

  Fes unsheathed his daggers, holding them tightly, one in each hand. He ran his finger along the hilt of the daggers, feeling the smooth surface. It calmed him, and he felt as if by doing that, he could get a better sense of what he needed to do. Somehow, he needed to counteract this. And somehow, he needed to avoid the effect of the Calling. If these others—the Damhur—all could perform a Calling, Fes was potentially in danger. He wouldn’t be able to resist the effect, and once it happened, once it overcame him, what would he do? What would become of him?

  Arudis had feared the Calling, and with her ability, with the power that he had seen from her, knowing that she feared it was reason enough for him to. But then, Fes had also felt the power within the Calling. He had known the way it had called to him, seemingly giving him no choice but to respond. If something like that came again, how could he have any hope of overcoming it?

  Maybe an understanding of his abilities, the fact that he could reach them more easily, might better equip him, but did he dare stake his life—and the lives of everyone else in this camp—on that?

  Fes wasn’t confident that he did.

  As he approached the campsite, he counted the men and women around the campfire. There were easily fifty, possibly more that he couldn’t see, and most of them lounged comfortably, seemingly unconcerned about their captives.

  Would they even have bothered to feed him?

  If they did, and they discovered that he was gone, they would raise the alarm.

  He had to be careful and watch for that.

  None of them were Alison. Fes didn’t know whether to be pleased or disturbed by that. It might be easier if he could find Alison and question her. But then, if he did, what would he say to her? Would any answer she gave appease him?

  Fes doubted that it would.

  Two men separated off from the rest of the camp. Fes watched them and realized that they were making their way toward the wagons.

  Maybe they weren’t as disorganized as they had appeared.

  He crept back to the wagons and kept an eye on the men as they went from wagon to wagon. One of them had a massive ring of keys, and he used that to open the door of each wagon.

  Fes’s gaze drifted to the wagon he had occupied and tried to calculate how long it would be before they reached him. Not long. Certainly not long enough for him to either get away or help the others.

  He could attack, and considering that they hadn’t managed to hide his weapons, he doubted that they feared him much, but would that raise the alarm even faster?

  There wasn’t much choice.

  Fes raced toward the wagon where he had unlocked it to see the woman inside. This would be where he would attack.

  And then he waited.

  It didn’t take long to hear the sound of their approach. At one of the wagons, there was a soft thunk, and a cry. The men had injured whoever was inside. Rage boiled within Fes, almost enough that he revealed himself sooner than he intended, but he refrained, holding out so that he could wait and see what might appear.

  And then they reached his wagon.

  They came with an arrogance, and they whispered, one of the men laughing. The keys jingled. Fes’s heart hammered in his chest.

  He wasn’t normally afraid when he fought, but there was something about this attack that made him nervous in ways that he normally wasn’t.

  They reached for the door, and Fes lunged.

  He stabbed one of the men in the thigh and jumped, reaching his mouth and slashing his dagger across his throat before he could cry out. This wasn’t a time for sentimentality. Given what they had done to him—and the others—this was a time for brutality.

  He spun and reached the other man before he had a chance to gather himself. He held up the ring of keys as if to brandish them as a weapon, and Fes merely smiled. He stabbed the man in the belly, twisting the dagger as he yanked it up, and blood spurted over his hand. He ignored the sensation as he kicked, keeping the man from making a sound.

  Fes grabbed the keys and pulled the door open.

  The woman inside jerked back. When she saw him, her eyes widened.

  “I think it’s time for us to get out of here,”
Fes said.

  The woman nodded.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Nina,” she whispered.

  Fes nodded. “Nina. I’m Fes.” Catching himself, he decided to use his full name intentionally. “Fezarn.”

  Her eyes widened. “Fezarn?” she whispered.

  He tried the various keys for her shackles before finding the right one. It was a smaller key than the others, and there was only one like it. If he were lucky, maybe all of the shackles would be unlocked in the same way. If he weren’t, then he would have to test his burgeoning ability and see whether he could unleash it. He didn’t like the odds of success if it came to that.

  “There are others,” Nina said, her voice quavering.

  Fes helped her out of the back of the wagon and motioned to the line. “I see that. It looks like there are nearly thirty others, maybe more, depending on how many are in each wagon.”

  Nina’s breath caught. “So many?”

  “I don’t think your village was the only place that was hit. I was in another village when something similar occurred.”

  “Is that how they captured you?”

  Fes shook his head. “Not me. I was betrayed by someone I thought was a friend.”

  He took her hand, and she didn’t pull away, letting him guide her toward the next wagon. At that one, he jammed the key into the lock, twisting it to open the door. A young man waited inside, his mouth opened as if to scream. When he saw Fes and Nina, he started shaking.

  “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m going to try to get you out of here.” Fes glanced over at Nina. “Do you know him?”

  Nina shook her head. “I’ve seen him when we stopped, but I don’t know him.”

  “They let you out?”

  “They let us out for minutes at a time. They walk us as if we’re animals, and then throw food into the wagon.”

  Rage continued to fill Fes. They were treating these captives, people who may or may not be Deshazl, as nothing more than animals. His attention turned to the campfire. It glowed nearby, bright enough that he could practically imagine the sounds coming from it. He could almost imagine the songs sung by those who were free, and could almost feel the disdain.

  “Do you know why they want you?”

  “They never said.”

  Fes looked around. At night, it was difficult to determine where they were heading, but there had to be something in mind, especially if they were risking venturing into the empire and claiming people of the empire. But, if they had the help of the rebellion, it wouldn’t be nearly as risky as it might otherwise have been. With the help of the rebellion, they wouldn’t fear. They would have assets, people who could help, and perhaps they used that to move more easily.

  They helped the boy out of the wagon, and when he was down, he quickly noticed the line of wagons. “What do you want with us?” the boy asked.

  “I want to help get you free.”

  “What do you want in return?”

  Fes studied the boy. He had assumed that he was young, and he was, but that was the question of someone who had been through their share of problems. It was the kind of question that Fes would’ve asked, but then he had been hardened over time, and he had experience with people using—and abusing—people.

  “I want your safety.”

  “That’s it? That’s all you want?”

  Fes shook his head. “I’m not here to take advantage of you.” He turned away and reached the next wagon. When he unlocked it, he found an older girl, possibly nearly twenty, inside. She was disheveled, and her belly was round.

  “You’re pregnant,” Fes said. It wasn’t what he had intended to say, but it was what came out. Could they really be so brutal to a pregnant woman?

  The woman nodded and glanced at Nina, her eyes going wide. “Nina—” Fes turned to Nina. “You know her?”

  Nina nodded. “I know her. She is from Salina.”

  Fes made quick work of unlocking the shackles and carefully helped her out. “What’s happening?” the woman asked.

  “Fezarn intends to help us,” Nina whispered.

  The boy jerked his head around. “You’re Fezarn?”

  Fes frowned and nodded. “Why?”

  “I’ve heard stories about you helping them.”

  “Which them?”

  “Them.” He nodded toward the campfire. “They’ve mentioned your name. I’m sure of it.”

  “Seeing as how I was a captive, I have no intention of helping them.”

  “How do we know that you were a captive?”

  Nina glared at him. “Hush,” she said.

  “No. Look at him. He’s got weapons. How do we know he’s not with them? How do we know he’s not one of them?”

  Nina frowned and took a step away from Fes, backing up with the pregnant woman’s hand in hers.

  Fes motioned to the rack beneath the wagon. “What do you see there?” he asked.

  The boy eyed him suspiciously. “What do I see where?”

  “On that rack,” Fes said. He could tell that there was a bundle on the rack, though he might be the only one who could see it. His eyesight had always been good at night, and there was just enough extra light for him to see clearly enough.

  The boy backed away from Fes and crouched down. He pulled a bundle off the rack. “How did you know that was there? Did you put it there?”

  The pregnant woman lunged forward and grabbed the blanket the boy had pulled out. “They didn’t destroy it?”

  “What is it?” Fes asked.

  Nina stared at the blanket for a moment. “It’s something of value to her. It’s the birthing blanket that she was given by her mother.”

  “She’s been gone for years. When they came and destroyed our village, I thought they had destroyed this. It was the only thing I could grab, and when they caught me, they tore it away from me.”

  The boy spun away from Fes and headed over to the wagon that he’d been captive in. He scrambled under the wagon and reached for something underneath. When he popped back up, he held a bow and a quiver. He grabbed one arrow from the quiver and nocked it.

  “I don’t intend to do anything to you,” Fes said.

  “You might not, but how do we know that someone else won’t come? And how do I know I can even trust you?”

  “You wouldn’t be free if you couldn’t trust me.”

  “What’s your name?” Fes asked the pregnant woman.

  “Dobrah.”

  “Dobrah, do you think that you will be able to walk and keep up?”

  “How far do you think we’ll have to go?”

  Fes shook his head. “I don’t know. If we’re going to get away, then we have to be on foot.” As much as he might want to steal horses, he didn’t even know where the horses were, and even if they found them, they would make noise. On foot, they could sneak off in the darkness and, if they were lucky, they could be leagues away before their captors managed to catch up to them. That was if they were lucky. The other possibility was that they would be noticed long before they had a chance to escape. Every delay, every time they paused to talk, they delayed.

  He turned his attention to Nina. “She’s going to move slower than others,” he said. “I’m sorry, Dobrah, but with your pregnancy, you are going to move more slowly. Get started now. Head north.” Fes looked at the boy, saw the comfortable way that he held his bow and the arrow, and decided that he would have to do. “Take the boy for protection. You might not be much of a soldier, but having a bow might make your attackers pause before coming at you.”

  That was so long as the Calling didn’t drag them back without a fight.

  “What about you?” Nina asked.

  “I’m going to release as many as I can from these wagons.”

  “Where… Where should we meet you?”

  Fes looked north. He didn’t know where they were, and even if he did, where could they go that would keep everyone safe? If there were as many people trapped here as he suspected, there might
not be any place for them to be safe. Ideally, he would get all to Arudis, but he had no way of knowing how to find her. Yet, if they could get north, maybe they could acquire horses. From there, he could guide them to Arudis. He knew where her village was and thought that he could reach her, so he had to hope that he could help these others.

  “Just keep traveling north. I shouldn’t be far behind you.”

  “The dragons grant you strength, Fezarn.”

  He stared at her. It was something from the followers of the Path of the Flame, and he wasn’t sure whether to trust that she said it without irony or not. He didn’t have much choice but to believe that she didn’t.

  “And you.”

  Before they started off, Fes grabbed the boy’s shoulders. He met his eyes. “Do you know how to handle that bow?”

  The boy glared at him. “I was one of the best shots in our village.”

  “Good. Now, if you even suspect that one of these people are coming after you, I want you to fire at them. Do you understand that?”

  The boy nodded. “What happens if it’s you?”

  “If it’s me, I’ll find some way of signaling.”

  “Some way?”

  “I don’t know what it is at this point, but there will be something.”

  He clasped the boy on the back and sent him away from the line of wagons.

  When they were gone, Fes went to the next wagon. He was trying key after key when he heard sounds behind him.

  He dropped to the ground, lowering the keys, and rolled beneath the wagon. It wasn’t long before several people approached.

  Women. At least two of them. The third could have been a man or not, but Fes wasn’t certain. And if they made it too much farther, they would see the two men he’d killed back near Nina’s wagon.

  He rolled free of the wagon and launched himself. He crashed into the two nearest him, slamming his fists into the backs of their necks. He put everything that he could into the punch, trying not to kill but preferring that to the alternative. If they made noise, the rest of the camp would be alerted.

  That left one person.

  It was one of the women. She carried a sack, and her hand was inside it.

  “Don’t scream or you’re dead,” Fes said.