Family probably, he thought. He tried to remember what he knew of the new council members, since most of them were newer. He didn’t get far into the process, because horns began blaring, alerting him that the military council was being called to meet.
He spread his wings and gently pushed off the roof, gliding over the edge of the roof and swooping through the streets toward his apartment for a change of clothes before heading to the council hall.
The military council hall was roomed in one of the largest buildings that hadn’t been damaged in any of the previous dragon attacks. It had a high ceiling, lined with windows where the ceiling met walls. Sunlight filtered through the windows, bathing swirling moats of dust in golden light, making Josef think of clouds.
The room was dark in a way that made lighting difficult. The walls were dark stone, and the floor a flagstone nearly as dark. The horseshoe table of cherry wood sat in the center of the room, polished to a cherry shine. Around the outside bend of the table stood high-back chairs that were uncomfortable for sitting any length of time, and the meeting was already a long one.
Garrett Jeffries, who’d once been the blue wing leader, was now the clutch commander. The only reason Josef was on the council now was because he took the spot Garrett vacated when he’d been promoted. Sometimes Josef wished he hadn’t taken the position. Most of his time was filled with scheduling the dozens of wyverns under his command and splitting his force between city guard and those on circuit. Most all of the wyverns now had circuit detail, even Josef who had previously been strictly city guard.
The reason for the meeting wasn’t scheduling, diplomatic dealings with the elf or dwarf districts, creation of mithril weapons, or any other tedious amounts of topics they typically sat through. This meeting was about the morning’s attack.
“Tensions are already high between us and the dragons,” Cassandra Claremont said. She was the green wing commander. Whereas most of the wing commanders had to split their wyverns between guarding the city and going on circuit, Cassandra also had control of the infirmaries. A robust and deathly pale woman who insisted on wearing tattered, dark clothes. She looked more like she’d clawed herself out of the grave than from the apartments she shared with her husband and children.
“And that’s why we are here,” Matthew Vortagen said. He was the red wing commander, and looked every bit as fierce as Josef could imagine a red. Josef didn’t like that Wylan was under his command. Matthew was a tough commander, preaching a kind of service to duty that was near fanatic. He was tall and corded with lean muscle. His eyes were fierce, and his tanned face sat in a perpetual frown…or maybe it was a growl. He shaved his head, and Josef was sure it was an attempt to make himself look more imposing. As if he needs the help. Josef figured his meanness was probably a way to keep people at bay, just like the terrible smell that surrounded him. He wasn’t sure if it was a scent he wore intentionally, or if his anger had found some way to seep from his pores and infect the entire chamber.
“I say we let them die,” Crespit Duspin said. It wasn’t a surprise to Josef to hear the yellow wing commander speak against dragons. When he first met Crespit, the thin, rat-like man had seemed serene, and being a yellow, Josef wouldn’t imagine he’d have such prejudice. But Crespit had lost his family to a dragon attack and watched helplessly as his youngest whelp was carried off to wherever it was dragons took wyverns they stole away.
If Garrett thought someone on the council was responsible, Josef would be first to point to Matthew or Crespit…maybe both of them. They were perfect for it, in his mind. They were both against dragons with almost as much ferocity as draconians felt toward wyverns. They didn’t distinguish between good and bad dragons. All dragons were dragons.
But that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? Whatever else they might be, the two wing leaders were smart. It seemed unlikely that they’d place their prejudice out in the open, and then turn around and kill dragons. They’d be the first accused.
“Normally I would agree,” Garrett said, drawing attention back to him. He was a small, thin, black man that carried command and respect as easily as a serving wench carried a tray. The fact that he sat at a long table elevated on a dais slightly higher than the wing commanders only enhanced his natural-born leadership. “But these aren’t draconians, these are the good dragons. As such, they are just as much a part of this city as the elves and dwarves.”
An elf and a dwarf had been selected by their districts to sit on the council. At the mention of their races, the elf bowed her head, and the dwarf’s frown deepened. Maybe he didn’t like being equated with dragons. Josef hadn’t caught their names. They’d held positions on the council for a while, but rarely chose to show up to meetings.
As far as elves were concerned, the emissary was rather nondescript. She was tall, graceful, beautiful with long, dark hair woven with various gems. Her dress was made of some thin material that looked more like clouds than cloth.
The dwarf, on the other hand, looked very different from most dwarves. He had short hair, where most dwarves had long hair worn in braids. His face was void of hair, making him look more like a potato than anything humanoid. Josef, however, would never tell him that to his face because the dwarf looked as though he could beat the scales off a dragon and come away unscarred. To say he was muscular was an understatement.
“Should I bother to ask what you’ve found?” Garrett asked the yellow.
Crespit made a grumping sound. “Nothing much. Whoever did this, hid their tracks well. Neither I nor Marcella were able to sense anything.”
“Interesting,” the dwarf said. Josef thought his name was Dax, or Draft…Drex, that was it. “Who would be able to cover their tracks?”
“Is that within someone’s power?” Cassandra asked, waving her hand. Her fingers were stained orange, and that made Josef take notice. The person who’d been on the roof had been eating a lot of fire fruit. Peeling that many of the orange fruit was likely to leave its mark. He tried to remember what he could of Cassandra’s past. Did it match what he suspected? “We have a wizard now, and a dragon tamer—granted she’s just a toddler. Is there some ancient power that may have awakened that we don’t know about? One that could hide their tracks?”
“How do we know it isn’t another dragon?” Crespit said.
Not gonna give that up, huh Crespy? Josef thought. Aloud he said, “for that matter, how do we know this was an attack on dragons?”
Chairs creaked as the assemblage turned to stare at him.
“You have another theory?” Illian, the purple wing leader, asked. She was one of the first women to turn Josef down when he’d asked her out, but he would have been a fool not to try. She was short, shaped like an hourglass, and hair so black it nearly shined blue.
“We would be fools to assume that all of the friendly dragons are truly friendly,” Josef went on. A few wyverns bobbed their heads. “We have to look at what we know. Tamers of all kinds used to work their will against those they tame. It was said there was a constant struggle between those that had been tamed, and those that did the taming. Maybe this one slipped through, bested Kira’s hold, and went about doing what dragons do.” Josef shrugged, “you know, burning cities and killing the impure.”
“If it were that easy,” Cassandra said, “why wouldn’t more have done it?”
“Maybe most of them are happy with their arrangement,” Josef speculated. “But consider where the dragon attacked—the Dwarven District. Not just the Dwarven District, but the very forge where we make our dragon killing weapons. To me this is nothing more than a suicide attack to stop our progression.”
Garrett seemed to consider this. “And what about the other attack?”
“We can’t deny someone killed that dragon,” Josef said. “And we should certainly investigate. However, there’s no indication that these two occurrences are connected.” Josef leaned forward. “If it was a random attack, that would be why the yellows didn’t sense anything around the dragon; t
here wouldn’t have been anything to sense.”
“What does the council think?” Garrett asked, looking around the chamber. “Raise your hands if you agree.”
Josef wasn’t surprised to see all of the hands raise. It made the most sense. Sure, a human might have killed the green dragon, but why couldn’t a dragon just as easily slip through Kira’s hold on them and retaliate?
“All right,” Garrett said. “That’s settled. Illian, any more about the first dragon attack?”
Illian shook her head. “Still trying to see what we can find.”
The only thing that could have linked the two instances was the lack of any trace surrounding either attack. When the green dragon had been found, a mithril arrow still jutting from between his eyes, the yellows had been called to see what they could find about the crime. They hadn’t found a trace of an attacker then, either. There were many reasons why they couldn’t get a trace. Arrows were long range weapons, and it would be difficult finding a place the bowman had used that wasn’t heavily traveled. They’d also arrived on the scene hours after the dragon had been slain and the scene had been muddled with other people who’d been gawking and investigating the attack.
By the time they’d located where the bowman had shot from, the trace had dulled. That wouldn’t normally have been a problem, but the roof was home to a great tragedy. The trace had been lost among all the pain and torment those within the building had felt so long before. That kind of thing hung around a place like burning pitch. The strong emotions always did.
“Well, let’s keep at it. The trail is growing cold, so it will likely be difficult to find anything now.” Garrett slapped the flat of his hand against the table several times, and chairs scraped back as the council dismissed.
Josef stayed behind.
Garrett waited for the last of the footfalls to whisper to silence before he spoke. “You don’t believe that, do you?”
Josef shrugged. “I think it’s a very real possibility, but no, I don’t think it’s true. Someone is likely behind this, and it needs further investigation.”
Garret shook his head in disbelief. “Then why would you bring it up to the council?”
“Have you seen what’s been going on out there?” Josef gestured ambiguously at the outside wall.
The clutch commander narrowed his eyes at Josef.
“Right,” Josef said with a smirk. “I forgot, you see everything.” It wasn’t mocking, it was the truth. Garrett had kept his position the last two years because he saw things before they became an issue. “Tensions mounting, and I don’t think the wing leaders are as objective as they should be. If we don’t get a wrap on this before it gets out of hand. Well, it could get out of hand, and fast.”
“What are you thinking?” Garrett rubbed his chin in thought.
“I don’t really know, but I don’t want to think about it either. I fear civil war. Fighting among ourselves isn’t going to help us fight the draconians. If we want each other dead, then we are easy targets.”
“And have you considered the wing leaders?” Garrett’s voice was muted, as if he feared being overheard.
“At this point it could be any of them. There are a couple that are very open about their prejudices.”
“Crespit,” Garrett mumbled.
“He’s certainly loud about his dislike of dragons, but he’s not the only one who feels that way…he’s just vocal about it.”
“And you think it would impede their jobs?” Garrett asked.
“Absolutely,” Josef said. “But there are other questions too.”
“Like what?” Garrett wondered.
“What do you know of Cassandra?” Josef crossed his arms and leaned back against the end of the council table.
“What about her?”
“Her past.”
“Specifics, Josef. I know a great deal about all of my leaders.”
“Does she have any ties to the mental ward?”
“The old one that burned?” Garrett asked.
Josef nodded.
“Absolutely. Her parents both came out of the dragon plague, but they were so torn up mentally there was no other choice but to put them in there. The dragon attack that burned the building claimed her parents first.”
“So there we have motive to hate dragons, and a tie to the building,” Josef said.
“There are many wing leaders who have ties to that building. I dare say everyone in Darubai has ties to that building.” Garrett frowned and clasped his hands together on the table. He leaned forward and looked at Josef. “Why do you ask?”
“There were rinds of many fire fruit on the roof of the mental ward,” Josef said.
“You went up there?” Garrett asked. “Did you tell anyone you were going?”
“What, afraid I was going to get taken by a spook?” Josef asked, wiggling his fingers in what he imagined to be a creepy way.
“More like you could have fallen through and got yourself killed,” Garrett said.
“I had my wings,” Josef countered.
“Wings only work if you can use them, if you’re taken by surprise by a collapsing roof, there’s little time for wings.”
“I stepped lightly,” Josef argued, only feeling slightly sheepish.
“As a five-hundred-pound wyvern, I’m sure you did a marvelous job.”
“But did I die?” Josef asked.
Garrett sighed. “No.”
“All right then, back to the rinds on the roof.”
“And how does that link Cassandra to the murders?” Garrett asked.
“Her fingers are stained orange. Whoever was on that roof had to be military at the least, and they are obviously a lover of the fire fruit.”
“Okay,” Garrett said, a look of concentration replacing the worry between his brow. “And you think it’s her?”
“I think it’s a lead,” Josef corrected.
“I don’t think you’re right with this one,” Garrett said.
“And why is that?”
“Well, at least I hope you’re not right. Cassandra is a very close friend of mind. I’ve known her since the dragon guard started. Great Above, I’ve known her since before that.”
“And you don’t think she would do it?”
“I can’t see anyone doing it,” Garrett said. “But you’re right, it’s not like the murderer would make themselves known, and I have to be objective.”
Josef nodded, not wanting to say anything and intrude on the clutch commander’s moment of sacrifice.
“Eating a large amount of fire fruit could also explain why the yellows can’t get a trace on the killer,” Garrett said. “If they consumed fruit that had been empowered by a yellow, they could make themselves untraceable.”
Josef hadn’t considered that, but he nodded as if he had.
“All right, see what you can find. If she isn’t the killer, maybe she saw something while she was up there,” Garrett said.
Josef knew a dismissal when he heard one.
“You don’t believe it, do you.” The deep voice brought Josef up short. He was sure everyone had left the building. In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone in the stone hall when he stepped from the door, but there he was…the dwarf emissary, stepping out from the shadows of a doorway at the other end of the hall.
Josef didn’t say anything. What was he to say? He could lie and say that he believed every bit of what he’d said at the meeting, but Drex had likely heard his conversation with Garrett. He could confess now that he’d lied, but then that would be admitting that he’d knowingly deceived his wing brothers.
“It’s right not to trust them,” Drex said, stepping closer to Josef. “Most of them aren’t any better than wyrm shit. They live in fear and would rather have a nice, happy explanation than to think danger lurked around the corner.”
“And do you think it does?” Josef asked.
“The day I stop looking for danger around every corner, is the day danger kills me,” Drex said. He rubbed his chin,
but stopped mid-motion, as if he’d forgot he didn’t have a beard. “I want in,” he said.
“In on what?” Josef asked.
“Don’t be a fool, Decker,” Drex growled. “I know you’re investigating this, and I want to help.”
“Why?” Josef crossed his arms over his chest.
“Why?” Drex’s voice trembled, but it wasn’t with fear. “The attack happened in the Dwarven District. That’s inexcusable.”
“No, why should I trust you when I don’t trust the rest of the council?” Josef asked. “You’ve said yourself that I shouldn’t trust anyone.”
Drex narrowed his eyes, and glared at Josef. “You shouldn’t.”
Josef arched his eyebrows and nodded, impressed with the frank honesty. “All right, then let’s get started.”
Drex lumbered behind Josef as they left the council building and entered the hot, clear light of day. His various weapons clanged around his waist, and Josef wondered how they were ever supposed to sneak up on someone, if they had to do any sneaking.
“So where do we start?” Drex asked, his voice held a note of eagerness. Josef almost imagined he’d slap his hands together and rub them emphatically, but he didn’t.
“We start with lunch,” Josef told him.
Josef and Wylan had lived apart for several weeks after she first came to Darubai. When it became apparent that they weren’t going to lose interest in one another, they’d decided to share an apartment. Josef and Wylan had taken an intense liking to the small yellow wyvern they’d met on their initial adventure. Instead of having him go through a system of meeting prospective parents, and being denied or living for an extended period in what passed as an orphanage in Darubai, they decided he could live with them. Geffrey had been through so much in his short life, that it was less like having a child, and more like living with a miniature adult. Geffrey was now ten or eleven years old—the boy couldn’t remember exactly when he was born—but what he’d been through at the hands of scale wraiths had aged him, bringing out a maturity that Josef didn’t think any kid his age should have.
Dragon Forged: Chronicles of Dragon Aerie Young Adult Fantasy Fiction (Plague Born Book 3) Page 3