House of Dragons

by Jessica Cluess

  She’d have to avoid the creature’s eye at all cost.

  “Damn. Damn,” she muttered. If only she’d managed to get a clean swipe in, rather than an upthrust, she’d have taken the head in two seconds, claimed her rightful victory. Ah, but if she’d done so in that position, the blood would have got her for certain. It couldn’t be helped; she’d done the best she could. But her best had not been victory. With a grunt, Hyperia wiped her blade on the ground to avoid the acid blood damaging the steel. Then she sheathed it, took a few steps back for a running start, and vaulted herself forward. Grabbing a low-hanging tree branch, she expertly swung herself up. Balancing, she jumped and caught her spear, wrenching it free from the trunk as she fell to the earth and rolled. Standing, Hyperia dusted her knees and gazed down the path after the basilisk. Drops of blood lay steaming on the earth, marking which way the beast had gone. Excellent.

  Maybe she hadn’t been able to take the head in one go, but she’d injured the creature. She would track it, and with or without the shield, she would kill it.

  Hyperia made a fist. Your sacrifice will be worthwhile, Julia.

  She hissed and strode down the forest path toward her destiny.

  Vespir sat on Karina’s back and thought of home. All the competitors’ dragons, save Chara, were nesting in the treetops, wings flared to fill with wind and keep them from becoming too heavy on the delicate branches. They bobbed on the leafy green sea like a deadly flock of ducks.

  Vespir pictured Antonia, imagined she could smell the girl’s favorite scent, honeysuckle and peach blossom. The mere thought calmed and focused Vespir. It allowed her to take the next step.

  “We’re getting out of here,” Vespir whispered. She placed her forehead against the warm back of Karina’s head and closed her eyes. The dragon chirped.

  When they’d landed in the treetops, Hyperia and Lucian had moved as one efficient unit. Opening their satchels, they’d taken out the rope normally used for lashing a sleeping rider to their dragon, tied it to the saddle horn, and then slid down effortlessly into the forest beneath. Ajax had followed closely, sleek as a seal. Now Vespir was alone. No one would see her take off.

  She breathed with Karina, focusing on the invisible thread that bound them as one. The Pentri rode their dragons without saddles, but they guided their beasts with pressed legs and gripped hands. Vespir did that, too, but she had another trick, something she called the Red.

  When she closed her eyes and breathed with Karina, there would come a flash of red light in the darkness. The Red would form a brief image. It had taken some time and practice before Vespir realized the image created was whatever Karina herself saw.

  The Red was the moment of locking in, of merging her mind with her dragon’s.

  And once that happened, all Vespir had to do was to think and Karina would obey. Pressed hands and knees were used as backup after that; the true test of a rider and dragon, Vespir believed, was that shared Red bond. No one else knew what she was talking about when she brought it up. Plotus, who’d trained her as handler until he’d retired last year, had thought she was crazy. Even Antonia hadn’t understood.

  Antonia…

  Vespir saw that flash of red light and glimpsed the treetops and the other dragons. She was locked with Karina now and opened her eyes.

  “Let’s go,” she whispered. Karina unfurled her wings wider, letting the wind carry them into the sky. They wheeled around and headed away from the island. Vespir looked behind as it grew small with distance and breathed properly for the first time that day. “They’ll never find us.”

  So what if she lived without honor or had to go into hiding for the rest of her life? She and Karina would have lives. Antonia would go with them, if she could give up everything. If what they felt was strong enough.

  At least Vespir was not a Pentri bastard. She breathed deeply, the tension unknotting between her shoulders. Despite Ajax’s words at dinner, a moment’s reflection had been enough to ease her worry. First of all, Vespir’s parents had often spoken of the exciting first time they’d seen the Pentri family—two years after Vespir was born. And secondly, the Pentri line came from Antonia’s mother, not her father. Since the girls were three months apart in age, it was impossible.

  So Vespir tried to focus on the wide expanse of blue before her and wondered which island was nearest.

  Besides, the Pentri hadn’t specifically chosen her as their daughter’s handler. It had been random chance. They’d stolen away all the children in the province to test the egg.

  Vespir remembered the peach blossoms filling her pockets as she and her sister, Tavi, hurried home through the fields. It’d been late spring, two weeks before they would start making peach blossom jam, the most filling thing the family ate during winter. She remembered opening the door to their low-ceilinged hut to find a Pentri soldier in green livery waiting in the kitchen. He’d been so surprising, Tavi had dropped her apron, and blossoms had floated to the floor.

  Vespir had been twelve, Tavi thirteen. The Pentri girl’s dragon had hatched, the soldier said. The family needed a handler of a similar age to be trained immediately. Their mother, silver streaking her black hair, had wrapped her hands around a cup of tea, bowed her head in resignation, and let the girls go. No one had fought the soldier to keep his hands off the kids. Vespir hadn’t cried, and neither had Tavi. They’d gone meekly, joining other children their age in an exodus out of the village. As she left, Vespir had noticed the fallen blossoms, carelessly squashed by the soldier’s boots.

  Maybe that was the worst part of all: how everyone just let it happen.

  Vespir had been told it was a quick test with an egg.

  She stood in a line with all the other peasant children. One after another, they were brought into a room. Five minutes later, each candidate was shuttled out. Vespir waited her turn, bouncing on the balls of her feet, and when she was let inside for the test, her only thought was of how hungry she was and how she hoped her mother was still making the jam.

  She crouched on the floor opposite a large green egg with silver flecks in its shell. One minute passed. Then two. Vespir was about to ask the guard if she could leave early, when something happened. A crack appeared.

  Stunned, Vespir squatted again and watched as, piece by piece, the egg came apart. A tiny brown creature with jewel-drop eyes and flappy little wings squeaked as it waddled over to Vespir. The length of Vespir’s arm, the baby dragon nuzzled at her knee.

  A love unlike anything she’d ever known stole over her. Giddy, Vespir picked up the dragon, still damp from its incubation, and pressed its head against her cheek. The dragon responded with a tiny, papery lick.

  “It likes me!” Vespir giggled at the soldier, who nodded, opened the door, and shouted that a trainer had been selected. Prepare the convoy. They’d leave for the western territory that night.

  And Vespir realized she wouldn’t be going home. She started asking questions, and when they were ignored, she beat her fists against the guard’s back, rushed out of the room shouting for Tavi. Her sister’s face was waxen with horror. Howling, they were wrenched apart from each other. The last image Vespir had of her sister was Tavi’s desperate face as the door between them slammed shut.

  Five years had gone by. Even if she found her way back to the village, hundreds of miles across the grass plains, would her family still be there? Would Tavi be married by now? The future was so uncertain.

  But it would be a future.

  Until Karina dipped out of the sky.

  The water drew frighteningly close. Vespir gritted her teeth as pain erupted behind her eyes, like a knife stabbing her brain. Karina’s harsh breathing merged with her own. “What the depths?” she hissed.

  Her eyes snapped open as she recalled what Camilla had said: you’ll be Cut if you leave. Vespir assumed that meant they’d kill her if she tried to run, but what
if it was something more? If the strange magic that had drawn Karina to the island could destroy her if she tried to flee the Trial…

  “Turn around!” Vespir barked. Karina wailed as they dropped dangerously close to the sea, and screamed as her wingtip traced the edge of a wave—salt water was like acid to a dragon. Vespir bit her tongue as she clung tight with her knees, as she begged the Dragon above to save them.

  They should have died then; Vespir knew it. But that Red bond flashed behind her eyes once more, and Vespir felt the sheer agony of effort as Karina turned herself around, as she managed to ride the currents of air above the waves and climb higher into the sky. The nearer they drew to the island, the stronger Karina grew. Vespir gasped in relief…until she realized that they were hurtling toward the dark middle of the forest, not the treetops. They were going too fast. She gritted her teeth and strained to imagine pulling up and reaching the treetops, but Karina mewled, wavering on the wind. She was too weak. Vespir bit down on her tongue, blood flooding her mouth as they plunged into the forest. The massive trunks loomed. Karina was small and quick, weaving around the trees. Her squalling was painful, her wings shuddering with strain. They turned left, right, went completely sideways to avoid smashing face-first into a trunk. Vespir plunged from horror to hope and back again as they rushed through the forest. When Karina banked, Vespir was catapulted into a thicket. The ground pummeled her body, bruised her hip. Rolling, she came to a stop and breathed, staring at sunlight filtered through the trees.

  No escape. Vespir felt wrung out as a dirty rag and twice as used.

  First they took her from her family and gave her a dragon; now they were going to kill her and her dragon both, and for what? Vespir had never felt more out of control of her own life…and she’d never had much control to begin with.

  A rustle of leaves. Karina snuffled Vespir’s hair, much as she had her pet goat. Karina tenderly touched snouts with her, and Vespir grinned through her tears.

  “Boop,” she muttered. The dragon blinked, pleased with herself. Vespir rubbed Karina’s sleek head and stood. “Let’s get you back up to the trees, girl.” She looked skyward.

  Vespir jolted at the sound of applause. She whipped around to find Ajax standing atop a fallen tree, haloed in the sunlight. He applauded with gusto, even threw in a couple of whooping noises.

  “That,” the boy said with a grin, “was impressive.” He leapt to the ground and strolled over. “My mistake for overlooking you. I thought you were just a servant.”

  Vespir frowned. “I am just a servant.”

  “That’s a horrible word, isn’t it? ‘Just’? Cuts you into a small piece, makes you easy to swallow.” Ajax waggled his fingers at Karina, who sniffed with interest. “Nice dragon.” Back to Vespir. “No, you’re not just a servant. You’re a dragon genius.”

  Well. Vespir had known for years she had a talent, even if common sense told her not to brag about it. Servants with too much pride weren’t long for the whipping post, that’s what Plotus had said.

  “Thank you.”

  “That’s why I think we can work together.” The boy’s grin grew lopsided. “Aren’t you lucky?”

  Vespir blinked. “Why would we work together when only one of us can win?”

  Ajax shrugged. “Beats getting eaten by a basilisk, doesn’t it?” Vespir didn’t respond. “I promise not to be insulted by your lack of enthusiasm. Look, I’m an honest type. I’ll tell you that you weren’t my first…or second…choice to team up with. But. But.” He winked. “You were my third choice.”

  Vespir glanced at Karina. The dragon yawned, displaying rows of daggerlike teeth. Me too, girl.

  “But if I’d known how you handle dragons, you’d have been first from the start. Here’s my idea: You two fly through the forest. You find the basilisk, get it to chase you. With me so far?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  “See, we’re having fun together. We can laugh about this. Anyway, you fly back here with the thing tailing you. Then.” Ajax bounded up a small incline and pointed. “We’re not too far from that patch of trees. See?” Vespir saw the trees, their low-hanging boughs concealing what waited not ten feet beyond: a sheer plummet into the ocean below. “You fly the basilisk there. Meanwhile, I’m waiting with a spear, hidden in the branches. I take out its left eye—it’s only got one working eye, by the way, that’s good for us—and it’s blind. Can’t hurt us anymore. Then you and me cut the head off, and it’s a win.”

  “Are you saying that you want to share the basilisk?” Vespir regarded him with half-lidded incredulity.

  “Friends share everything,” Ajax said, hand over his heart.

  “We’re not friends.”

  “Allies share everything.”

  “We’re not allies.”

  “Acquaintances—”

  “Good luck with the basilisk.” This scrawny little bastard was trying to lead her into a suicide mission. Despite her current misery, she’d rather live for Karina’s sake, and in the hope she’d see Antonia again. As Vespir swung onto Karina’s back, the boy waved his hands.

  “All right. We’ll have to battle it out for the head when it gets to that point. But wouldn’t you rather go up against me than Hyperia?”

  Vespir paused. Ajax certainly did present less of a challenge, though she didn’t trust the runt. But she shook her head.

  “I’d rather keep Karina safe.” She petted the dragon’s neck. “Ready, girl?”

  As Karina’s wings opened, Ajax said, “And if you don’t win, your dragon’s dead.” For the first time, he sounded serious. Grim, even. “How’s that keeping her safe?”

  Vespir halted. Karina twisted around to gaze into Vespir’s eyes. The dragon chirped, tongue flicking out in that adorable way of hers. Vespir stroked the top of Karina’s silken head and sighed.

  “Go over the plan again,” she muttered.

  She knew without looking that Ajax was grinning.

  Lucian had seen these faces before. Not the specific people, but their expressions. Up in the northern peninsula, he had killed many like these. They had looked afraid, perplexed, angry, wary: all correct responses to the soldiers’ appearance. Lucian had watched grown men flee from him in terror. He would be damned if he gave these islanders reason to fear him, too.

  “Emilia. Take out your sword and spear and toss them to the ground,” he said calmly. The Aurun girl remained squatting before the altar, blinking at the arrow in front of her face. “Show them you mean no harm.”

  “Oh. Yes.” Emilia fumbled at her belt, wincing as she drew her blade. Lucian listened to a bowstring tauten; his heart trammeled in his chest. It would be just if he met his end this way, but Emilia was innocent.

  She tossed her weapons to the earth, then waited.

  Slowly, the islanders relaxed their bows and spears. Birdsong struck up in the trees once more. Though the tension had eased, the men and women still watched them carefully.

  “Lucian, let’s try something. Follow my lead.” Emilia dipped her head and spoke. “Eyah shosh,” she said, then widened her eyes at him. Lucian copied her, hoping he didn’t stumble over the pronunciation.

  The fear around them dissipated like smoke. The people smiled now and returned the greeting. Lucian exhaled deeply and gazed at Emilia. Color bloomed in her cheeks. She perked up, even laughed. It was a rough sound, but strangely musical as well.

  “I was correct!” She appeared delighted with herself.

  Lucian grinned. “How did you know that?”

  “I’ve, er, studied the Crotian territories for years now. It’s a formal greeting, but meant to convey goodwill.” She bobbed her head in gratitude when one of the women offered her a water skin. Emilia drank. “The Crotians are an offshoot of the Hellini people. These islands contain the last of them.” Lucian knew of the Hellini vaguely; they had been considered a gre
at ancient civilization, before the rise of the empire. As a boy, he’d been instructed in some of their philosophies and poetry, but in truth he’d forgotten much of it.

  “Can you ask them about the altars? About the basilisk?”

  She shook her head, red hair swaying. “I know only a few words, and even then I’m not sure about pronunciation. Listen.”

  Two of the people began to speak to each other, the language unfamiliar and rich with rolling r’s and hushed s’s. Beautiful, but Lucian could not understand. On impulse, he opened his satchel and took out some bread. He offered it to the woman seated beside him. She accepted with hesitation, so Lucian tore a piece and popped it into his mouth to show it was harmless. The golden-haired girl beamed and began to divide the bread into shares. Within seconds, the group’s mood had transformed into solid welcome.

  This gathering had the atmosphere of a party now, but Lucian found that his mind trailed back to those charred figures seated on his bed…

  The bread stuck in his throat. He glanced at the spear lying by a man’s side.

  The man noticed and gave it to Lucian to inspect. Turning it in his hands, he marveled at the craftsmanship. The carvings along the length were ornately beautiful flourishes of stars and ocean waves, a true masterpiece. Lucian whistled, handing it back.

  “Impressive,” he said. It was a relief, really, to see a people living with their own language, their own customs. Even if they had to survive under a blighted basilisk’s eye…

  “Oh, thank you!” Emilia cried. They’d given her a small leather flask. Lucian reached for it.

  “Alcohol?”

  “No, don’t touch it.” She lightly whacked his hand away. Well, if she wanted to keep it all to herself…“It’s basilisk tears. You can smell.” She unstoppered the flask and let him take a sniff. Lucian’s eyes watered; it was like vinegar, and rotten eggs underneath.