Marked by Dragon's Blood (Return of the Dragonborn Book 1)

by N. M. Howell

  The professor for that class was cynical, to say the least. He was a self-proclaimed nihilist and he clearly hated his job. It was anyone’s guess why he continued to come in to work. He was so uninterested in his students that he had never even allowed them to know his name. He cared nothing for order or work in general: he alternated between long periods of no classroom work or homework at all to consecutive days of grueling, soul-crushing work. He was undeniably brilliant, but arguably the most unpleasant, offensive, pessimistic, and angry person in Arvall City.

  “So, I’m sure you’ve been wondering about this giant blank in your syllabi, that is, if you haven’t been rendered completely worthless by your inability to comprehend the nature of this course and your age group’s general bewilderment. We’ve now come to the point in our class, excuse me, my class where it’s time to learn about dragons, dragonborn, dragonblood, dragon magic... so on. All things dragon. Yay.”

  Andie couldn’t believe it. She sat bolt upright in her chair and almost screamed from sheer excitement. She’d spent weeks scraping everywhere for even a hint of dragons and now it looked as if everything she ever wanted to know was about to be delivered to her without the least effort.

  “Oh, by the way, the school board and the city council and the major governor and the chancellor and every other person whose designation makes them feel important doesn’t want you to learn this. Screw them.”

  Andie was ecstatic. This was one of the reasons she’d most wanted to come to school. She didn’t think she could sit still, she was so excited. She readied her pen and notepad.

  “Let’s start with a basic summary even you degenerates can’t fail to grasp. Dragons were gigantic, ferocious, man-eating beasts who plagued the world for thousands upon thousands of years. During their time, there was no such thing as peace. No such thing as safe. They took countless lives for no reason at all. They were a curse and demonic presence on the earth, and the best thing they ever did for us was die off from inbreeding.”

  Andie’s excitement faded. She’d been so overzealous that she’d actually written down everything up to “safe.” She couldn’t understand what he meant. She thought he had to be playing a sick joke or twisting the truth.

  “The worst thing they ever did was mange to get their blood into human bodies, creating the most obscene and dangerous abominations in history. I’m talking about an entire race of people who were angry and evil. As a matter of fact they weren’t even people. You societal rejects aren’t too much better, but who am I to judge...”

  This wasn’t right. She just kept thinking to herself that this wasn’t right.

  “Luckily for you human stains, the world was purged. The dragons and their foul human spawn were all eradicated. The dragons were killed by some mysterious method that has been lost to history, but we know how the dragonborn died. Hanging. Drowning. Evisceration. Decapitation. Several unsightly and shockingly grotesque spells. The culling wasn’t gentle and we know for a fact...”

  Andie didn’t want to believe it, any of it. The professor went on and on about the dragons and the dragonborn and all the atrocities they committed. For a while Andie was totally set against his philippic, but the more she listened the more she began to wonder. What did she really know about the dragons and the race they gave birth to? All she knew was the very little contained in Dragons and the stories that her dad had told her. But he’d admitted time and time again over the years that he’d never known anyone with dragonblood other than her mother, who knew next to nothing about their long heritage. Was it possible they had been completely unaware of the truth? After all, the entire world had banded together to annihilate the dragons and everyone they bred—there had been no international effort like that in all of recorded history. There must have been a truly great evil amok for every living soul on the planet to want them gone. Andie thought long and hard about what she knew of dragons, which was essentially nothing except that they were massive, powerful, and extremely dangerous. Then the worst possible thought came into her mind. Could her parents have outright lied? Maybe the dragons and the dragonborn truly were evil.

  After class Andie returned to the University’s vast collection of books to make one final fleeting attempt to find some information. Even though she remembered how the professor had said everyone was against this subject being taught, she held hope that there was at least one volume somewhere in there. Of course, without Carmen there to provide access, she couldn’t even take the elevator to the bloodlines floor. Fortunately, she ran into Yara.

  “Hey, Andie. Wow, you look totally anxious.”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry, it’s just that I’ve really been trying to find something in here and I’m not having any luck. I’m just going to give up.”

  “Maybe I can help,” Yara said, smiling ear to ear. “What are you looking for?”

  “Honestly? Something on dragons or the dragonborn.”

  Yara caught her breath and inadvertently took a step back. For a moment she just stared.

  “Carmen told me you might be interested in something like that,” she said. “Look, I don’t know much, but I do know they keep some books in the back. Some stuff they really don’t want any students to see. Down in archives. You might find some interesting things there. There are old, damaged books there, but they also hide things there. Every now and again a student sneaks down to find a “dirty” book. I’m not sure what they mean by dirty. Anyway, I just saw a professor come out. Maybe the door is still open. Try giving it a good push.”

  “Thank you, Yara. I’m kind of going out of my mind here.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  Yara walk away slowly, as if afraid of something she’d done, while Andie hurried off to find the entrance to the archives. She walked so quickly she almost ran. She didn’t even slow down when the heads began to turn, but she did remember that she was wearing the icon and she wasn’t sure what kind of surveillance the thing provided. The last thing she needed was the school board sending someone to check on her. Yet she couldn’t stop herself from moving toward the archives. She finally reached the door and just as Yara had said, it gave when Andie pushed it. She looked around the space to make sure no one was there and just managed to see two professors talking in excited whispers behind the first bookcase. She crouched low behind an abandoned desk and waited for them to leave. She realized how heavily she was sweating and how quickly her heart was racing.

  “Calm down, Andie,” she said. “The last thing I need is to be found here. Even worse to be questioned about what’s getting me so excited.”

  Within a few moments, the professors were on their way out and Andie was alone. The archives, though intimidating and poorly lit, were as breathtaking as they had been on her first visit. Even in her heightened excitement she had to take a moment to appreciate the place. Now that she wasn’t being distracted by trying to follow the siren’s call, she could focus more precisely on what was in the room. The main path through the archives was a raised wooden bridge of sorts, with stairs leading up or down to the sections the path ran beside. She’d almost completely ignored the collections to the left of the bridge the last time she was there—there were haphazard piles of books that must have been at least forty feet tall and careless stacks of paper were everywhere, as if someone kept meaning to organize, but seemed to forget each time a new stack came in. It didn’t look to Andie like anyone had organized those archives in decades. Without even knowing where to begin, Andie walked about halfway across the massive bridge, took a set of stairs to the lower floor, and began rummaging the shelves.

  She must’ve been there over an hour, searching and taking down, and guessing. She’d had no luck, not even a hint of what she’d wanted to know. She couldn’t help wondering if she’d have had better luck by calling Carmen. She needed someone else down there to help her look, but if some professor walked through she didn’t want Carmen getting in trouble over something so stupid. it was quite a while before she found something that she
thought might prove worthwhile. But just as she was flipping through the opening pages and getting excited, the bells rang to signal that the University would soon be closing for the night. She hid the books in her backpack and headed for the door.

  Chapter Nine

  She got home later than usual that night, but she was ecstatic to have finally found books on dragons. She came in and threw off her things in a tornado of eagerness and self-congratulation. Just as she was settling in her chair with dinner and preparing to eat while she read, Tarven called.

  “So, it’s me,” he said. “You busy?”

  “Seriously, you’re calling me at home now?”

  “Are you ever going to forgive me for the fire? It’s been weeks now. I only did what they told me to do. I don’t know what to say to you, Andie. I was there, I would’ve helped if necessary. I promise.”

  Andie thought for a moment. He was right: It had been weeks and she knew in her heart he’d only done what he’d been told to do. She’d been threatening with expulsion if she failed. She was sure he had been threatened with something similar.

  “So, you busy?” he asked.

  “Well, I sort of... actually... it depends. What do you need?”

  “Nothing really. Just need to see a pretty face and have fun with a super smart girl. You up for drinks.”

  “I don’t really know about that,” she said.

  “Swamped with school work already?”

  “Not really, just . . it’ll be low key, right?”

  “As low key as anything I do.”

  “Fair enough. When and where?”

  “Plaza One. Quarter to midnight.

  “Whoa, that’s kind of-”

  Tarven had already hung up.

  “-late,” she finished.

  She knew she shouldn’t, that she had so much more important work to be doing, but for some reason when Tarven called, she felt like she had to go. She slipped into some different clothes, grabbed her purse, checked to make sure the icon was still turned off, and headed out of the door.

  She met Tarven and his friends at the Plaza One bar and they all started chatting. As usually happens with large groups, they eventually broke down into smaller groups, or even pairs, with separate conversations. Andie drank, but sparingly, whereas Tarven drank without restraint and without showing anything more than the most benevolent symptoms of his intoxication.

  “So where exactly are you from, Andie Rogers?” Tarven asked.

  “Michaelson, at the southern shore of Gordric’s Pain.”

  “Ah, so you’re of the Michaelson Rogers? That’s good stock, I hear.”

  Andie laughed and took another moderate sip of whipper’s beer, a special brew only sold in Arvall City. All Andie, or anybody else for that matter, knew about the beer was that its process was quick, and its recipe called for (among other things) watermelon rinds and extract of orchid.

  “So, who is Andie Rogers, other than a girl who hates fire?”

  “I’m a first-year student at the Academy and I like history.”

  “Interesting. Historical events or timeless wars?”

  “Hmm... wars.”

  “Now we’re getting somewhere. What makes a girl so worried about her peers’ safety so interested in war?”

  “Nothing so grand as what you’re imagining, I’m sure. I just find the destruction and beauty of war fascinating.”

  “Beauty?”

  “Yes. Nothing unites a people like a war. The bigger, the longer, the worse the war, the closer the survivors will be. War brings love and hope and significance to the surface. And sure, it’s bloody, cruel, and most of the time it’s fought over nothing, but when it’s over the world needs to heal itself and sometimes, given the right circumstances, that can be-”

  “Beautiful,” Tarven finished, watching her like he’d never seen her before. “Okay, I think I’m beginning to understand you. But, just to play devil’s advocate, the aftermath of war isn’t always so welcoming.”

  “I know that better than most,” she said.

  Tarven watched her. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. After that she put her drink down: letting hints of her personal vicissitudes slip out was evidence she’d had enough.

  “I just think war is one of those things that defines an age. Every age. You know?”

  “I get you,” he said. Speaking of age, you’re nineteen, right? The Academy starts accepting students at the age of sixteen. Why’d you wait so late?”

  “Obligations,” she said, somewhat more ominously than she’d meant.

  “Can I ask what kind?”

  Andie was silent. She wasn’t trying to ignore him, she just honestly didn’t know how to respond. Other than the one slip, she’d been exceptionally careful not to reveal anything personal all night. Still, Tarven was beginning to seem like he could be trusted. After all, he hadn’t told anyone he found her in the archives.

  “I don’t mean to pry, and you don’t have to answer if you’re not comfortable, but did your obligations have to do with your father?”

  She turned to look at him, right in his eyes. There was no malice there.

  “He had an accident,” she said, almost before she’d thought about it. “He overwhelmed himself with too much magic. He hasn’t been the same since. Honestly, I don’t know how it happened. My mother died when she was young and my father hasn’t really been the same ever since.”

  She stopped there. She cursed herself. Tarven did seem trustworthy, but she still hadn’t really made up her mind whether or not she should share with him, and even then what pieces of the truth he could be trusted with.

  “How did your mom die?”

  He asked it gently, sympathetically, but she couldn’t help thinking that she may have said too much already.

  “She... I... we never really... it was... someone came... and... she was on the ground... I saw her... I... we...”

  She was scrambling and even her breathing was beginning to quicken. What was she doing here, with this boy, telling him her darkest secrets? How could she trust him when she knew he’d do anything the school board told him? Maybe someone somewhere had seen her, followed her, knew what books she was trying to find. He watched her, and although he seemed caring at first, the more she scrambled to respond to the question the more suspicious his expression became.

  “It wasn’t anything, really,” she finally said. “Just... sickness.”

  Tarven didn’t look the least bit convinced. She was lying through her teeth and he knew it.

  “What about you?” she asked, putting on what her dad had said was her most attractive smile. “Your parents?”

  Tarven was getting ready to respond, still looking suspicious, when Andie saw Raesh and his friends come in. Her hand came up before she’d even made the decision and she hoped desperately that they would see her. Raesh spotted her almost instantly. As he and his friends started toward her she almost collapsed under the sheer relief. But as Raesh and his friends drew near, they seemed to see something they either didn’t like or, based on some unspoken principle, couldn’t tolerate. They walked right by Andie, merely nodding at her, and sat at the other end of the bar.

  “You know those guys?” Tarven asked, suddenly looking offended.

  “I thought I did,” Andie said, actually offended.

  “Don’t take it the wrong way. It had nothing to do with you. Them and us... we just don’t mix. My friends and I don’t hang out with lowlifes.”

  Andie was taken aback, but in the interest of preserving what seemed to have become a fragile peace in the bar, she just nodded.

  “Oh. I see,” she said, grabbing her purse. “It’s been a fun night, Tarven, and thanks for inviting me. I guess I should get back to my place and study.”

  “You sure?” he asked, though it seemed more out of politeness than genuine desire for her to stay.

  “Yeah. See you in school.”

  She left, trying not to run at top speed. On her way home, all she could think
about was how hurt Raesh looked to see her with Tarven.

  Chapter Ten

  Andie woke up covered in sweat. The bed was floating in midair and the walls were totally engulfed in purple flames. With a fluid swipe of her hand she extinguished the flames and the bed came back down gently. She’d had a nightmare—the same nightmare, only a little clearer. It had been the same voices, same people calling for help, but that time the images had improved some. She’d seen a face, the first face she’d ever seen in that show of horrors. Even now that she was awake, the voices still echoed in her head, softer than shrieks and harder than whispers, the caustic noise of terror.

  She felt different. She looked at the hair falling over her shoulder. It was purple. She could guess that her eyes had probably changed, too, to their natural, vivid byzantium. She used her magic to hide herself again, muttering an incantation to help keep a lid on her magic. The magic flames had left no marks on the wall, though the room was as hot as an oven. The heat, of course, felt good. Fire was nourishment to a true dragonborn like Andie. At that moment, she was beyond grateful for Carmen showing her how to manipulate her icon, otherwise her life would have been over. The thought of it made her think of her mother and she looked over at her picture on the nightstand.

  “What should I do?” she asked.

  Try as she might, Andie couldn’t get back to sleep. After an hour of simply laying there, she got up and decided to go through the books she’d found in the archive. It was probably best to get them back soon before anyone could notice they were not only gone, but stolen. The books were ancient, full of dust that was nearly black, and the binding was barely managing to hold on to the pages. Those books were probably almost as old as Arvall itself. It wasn’t until she was there in bed that she realized most of the books were in a different language. She spoke three languages, but she didn’t recognize that one. She’d picked them up because their titles or opening pages all made some mention of dragons, which was apparently the same word in that language as it was in her own, but the lighting had been so bad and she had been in such a hurry that she hadn’t even noticed the strange characters of the alphabets. She couldn’t make any sense of them. More still, she noticed that some of the books actually changed languages whenever she closed their covers; she’d be looking at one foreign language, close the book, open it again, and be looking at another. One book wouldn’t open at all.