Dragons of Wild (Upon Dragon's Breath Trilogy Book 1)

by Ava Richardson

  “Gang?”

  “You can’t be out here on your own, sneaking up on a lonesome traveler like me.” I hefted my stick once more.

  “I wasn’t sneaking.” He spit out a leaf. “I was looking for an old building someone told me to search out. She said there’d be food and a place to sleep for the night. And why have you tied me up?”

  I took a step back. “That story could be true. You seem too skinny to be a bandit—or at least to be a good one. But maybe you’re here to lure me into dropping my guard. I’ve seen that done before. Just what were you doing out here anyway with no friends?”

  “Are you travelling with anyone?” He twisted and gave a grunt.

  I had tied his ankles and wrists pretty tight. Breathing hard, he seemed to give up on his struggles. His face seemed very pale and he looked worried.

  I was worried that he might have seen Jaydra. We had already seen the reaction some had to a dragon—our first encounter on the road had not gone well, and Jaydra had taken more care to hide herself since then.

  But I still didn’t know what this fellow was doing out here. Bending down, I grabbed the larger of his two bags. This would provide the answers I needed, I was sure.

  “Hey…stop that. That’s mine and private.”

  “Ho! So you are a criminal and in here must be your stolen goods. Either that or you have something to hide, at least!”

  “Please don’t.” His voice had dropped to a low tone and I caught a touch of panic in there. But I needed to know. I opened the bag.

  It was full of nothing more than books. Lots of old books. A strange, flutter lifted in my stomach.

  Growing up, I had only seen two books which stayed within the Hermit’s hut. Zenema had said they were great human treasures and wouldn’t let anyone touch them. In this bag, were more books than I had seen in all of my life. I reached out to stroke the leather and wooden covers. They smelled of vanilla and something aniseed.

  “Please don’t. They’re worth so little.”

  I glanced at him. “Are you crazy?”

  Opening his other bag, I found clothes and some coins, but that wasn’t as interesting as his books.

  Turning back to the larger bag, I sat down and opened the biggest book. The thin pages creaked under my fingers. I turned to a random page in the middle.

  Zenema had had the hermit teach me something of my own language, both to speak it and write and read it. She swapped fish with him for the lessons. But I couldn’t read words in his book. The writing seemed strange and blocky, with some of the letters in a pretty, elaborate whirling and twisting designs. I had never seen anything like it.

  The thing I could see, even in the bright, silver moonlight was that it had drawings of dragons. Lots of them. I gasped.

  I heard a groan, but ignored the stranger as I flipped to another page and then another.

  The book had drawings of dragons I had never seen before. I was used to the sea-green island dragons like Jaydra. In the moonlight, I could make out the stocky dragons, slinky ones, immense dragons, and more. The drawings showed the dragons in flight or sweeping across the sky in groups that seemed part of a pattern. It looked so beautiful. I had once tried to get Jaydra and her brothers and sisters to fly like the sea-geese fly, but the dragons had started to squabble over who would lead and then one started fishing and that sent them all hunting for fish.

  The island dragons didn’t fly like this, so what dragons did? Looking over at my bound captive, I demanded, “Where did you get this? What land are these pictures of? Where can I find them?”

  “The—the dragons?” He wiggled until he could sit up. “You want to talk about dragons? Uh, you’re not from around here, are you?”

  I thumped the book closed. “How did you guess that?”

  “Well, around here…no one talks about dragons. The dragons in the book, they used to fly above us in the Middle Kingdom—in these skies.” He spoke slowly, carefully, as if each word was a thorn that might draw blood. “And your accent, of course.”

  What’s an accent?”

  “It’s how you say words. It’s just not a Torvald accent. It sounds …wilder, I guess.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Are you trying to buy some time? Waiting until your friends turned up?

  With a groan, he lay back down on the ground with a thump.

  I don’t smell anyone else. And so what if others come? Are our claws not long enough? Our teeth not sharp enough? Jaydra’s thoughts touched my mind. I could feel her savage joy at the thought of a fight. These last few weeks we had done little except keep out of sight and search for other dragons and magic. I had learned all too soon not to ask about those things—people turned pale and ran from me when I did. And I knew that Jaydra was tired of hiding. She wanted to scrap and play, to hunt and fly and shriek as she swooped across the skies.

  Jaydra, I do not have long enough claws or sharp enough teeth. But I agree that this one is probably all on his own. We still have to be careful. This is strange territory.

  I sensed Jaydra’s agreement, and her disappointment. I glanced down to find the stranger looking at me, his head tipped to one side and his eyes wide.

  Could he have heard my conversation with Jaydra? Usually, the island villagers couldn’t hear the dragons, although to me their voices had always been clear in my head.

  I stood up and pointed at the books. “Tell me about these dragons? Where did they come from? Where did you come from?”

  He gave a sigh and wiggled and sat up again. “I—I come from a big city—Torvald it’s called. The dragons, they don’t exist anymore, but they used to. Or so the story goes.”

  I thought of the drawings on the rock far away on the island. “Is your city in the mountains?”.

  He shrugged. “There’s Mount Hammal. And then there are the mountains to the far north.”

  “But dragons once lived in your city. Then you can have your books back if you take me to this city and the mountain.”

  “To Torvald?” He gave a laugh and shook his head. “If you walk into Torvald and start talking about dragons, the Iron Guards will kill you. As in dead. It is against the king’s law to even think about dragons!”

  “That makes no sense. How can you make a law about thinking? And why would it be against the law to speak of dragons. I mean, perhaps some are annoyed with dragons for eating their pigs and their sheep, but not talking about a dragon is like not talking about the wind or the ocean.”

  “You’re talking like dragons really exist.” He shook his head again. His hair was shaggy and fell into his eyes, half covering his face. “You can’t go to Torvald. I won’t take you.”

  Squatting down, I put my eyes on the same level as his. “You said you came from there. Don’t you want to go back? And after sneaking up on me like that, it’s—”

  “I wasn’t sneaking.” He let out a low growl, looked down at the leaves on the ground, then up at the stars and back at me. “I can’t take you back to the citadel because I can’t go back. And I don’t care what you say or do to me. I won’t go back.”

  I stood up again, shocked by the strength of his words. I could hear the pain in his voice, and something else. Fear maybe. It was always hard for me to judge human emotions—things were so much easier with dragons that just let you feel what they felt.

  But I could tell something had happened. Maybe he had lost his family. Maybe, like me, he was an orphan. In any case, he was alone, too.

  I couldn’t afford to feel sympathy for this stranger, even if he had a book all about dragons. I wasn’t sure it would be wise to trust him. Zenema had always taught me to be cautious when dealing with humans because they lied to themselves as well as to others.

  “Very well. But I’m going to go there anyway.” I told him. “But not until tomorrow. Now are you hungry? You look hungry and your stomach keeps making noises. You might as well eat some food with me and you can tell me more about your book about dragons.”

  5

  Ca
ptured, Cornered & Concerned

  I couldn’t believe this girl. First, she attacked me out of nowhere. She knocked me around and goes through my possessions, then demanded I take her to Torvald. The only place I could never see again.

  And now she was offering me food.

  Was this what most girls were really like?

  The only girls I had ever known I had met at the king’s court. They were either from the noble families and had no interest in the impoverished House Daris, or came from rich merchant families newly made into nobles who were seeking an alliance with a family held in favor by the king. That had never been House Daris.

  This girl seemed…different.

  Sharp-features, frizzy hair, a look as fierce as a wild bird. But I couldn’t tell if she was mad or just a little simple minded. Or was she trying to make a fool out of me? I wanted to lift my tied hands, but they were caught behind my back. At the merest mention of food, my stomach had started growling. “How do I eat if I’m tied like this?”

  “I’ll free you,” she said and held up one finger. “But if you do one thing to try and harm me, it’ll be the last thing you do.” Pulling out a long-handled dagger with a curiously carved handle, she cut through the bonds she had wrapped around my wrists. I rubbed the chaffed skin.

  She cut the fastenings around my wrist and disappeared into the darkness. For a moment, I could only stare into inky-black woods, but then she called out, “Aren’t you hungry?”

  I stood, pulled together my books back into the case and took up my other bag. I followed the sound of her voice and saw the smooth shape of a wall, and then the flicker of a fire. I stepped around the wall and found the girl had built what looked like a tent made of branches in the middle of what must have once been a large house. A circle of rocks held a small fire, and the aroma of roasting meat curled into the air. Rabbit, I thought.

  Squatting down by the fire, she cut strips of meat off whatever animal she had roasting. She tossed me the hot meat and I had to drop my bags to catch it. I sat down and took a bite of the meat. It was rabbit and it tasted better than the finest meal I’d ever been served. She cut off meat for herself and sat with her legs folded under her, eating as if she’d never been taught manners.

  I kept watching her.

  She was a slight girl really, shorter than I was with long, red-gold hair, and by the firelight I could see the tan on her skin. Were it not for her attitude—the one that had her thumping strangers with a club—I might think her pretty. A farmer’s daughter perhaps. But she didn’t act like any farmer or his daughter. Every move gave off confidence and awareness. She reminded me of a large, not very tame cat—one of the tawny ones that knows it is a great hunter.

  Her gaze flickered over to me, every time I moved. Tension kept her body and shoulders taunt.

  Finishing my meat, I wiped my hands on my breeches. They were already filthy and I had nothing else to use. I hesitated, wondering if I should tell her my name. I had been using the name of Tarrow, as Byers had said I tarried too much, meaning I was generally too slow for her liking. But it seemed wrong to give this girl a lie—for one thing I worried she might sense the lack of truth. For another, I wanted to know about her—why was she so willing to talk freely about dragons? I could hardly ask questions if I was not willing to trade information. Besides, what harm could it do if she had never been to Torvald?

  “I’m Bower.” I smiled and offered a hand out to her.

  She eyed the hand and slapped more meat into my palm. The light of the fire reflected orange in her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “Saffron.” She touched her hair. “I was given the name because of the color of my hair.”

  I nodded. A shuffling in the woods had me turning and staring into the blackness where the trees met the ruins of the house. The moon was high, but a breeze kept the trees shifting. For a moment, I saw nothing, and then a dark shape moved out from behind the trees. I caught the impression of a bluish-looking horse, but my mind rebelled at the idea. And then the thing lifted its head and neck into the moonlight.

  “Dragon!” I shouted, leaning forward to seize one end of a burning log and leaping to my feet. I don’t know what made me grab that log. I was no fighter at all, but the terrible certainty that dragons were real and lived out in the wilds compelled me. I didn’t want to hit it—I wanted to see it clearly. I had been drawing for as long as I could remember.

  I swung my makeshift torch high.

  The burning loge exploded in a shower of sparks and sheets of flame. With a yelp, I let go and jumped back. And then it was as if a giant, invisible hand smacked into my chest, knocking me off my feet. I landed painfully on one elbow, muttered a curse, rolled and scrabbled to my feet.

  But there was no dragon on the edge of the firelight. Just me, standing there gasping, and Saffron staring at me, her eyes narrowed and her head tipped to one side as if she was now certain I was a madman.

  “What—what did you see?” I asked, dragging in air with long, hard breaths. Saffron’s face seemed pale in the firelight. She looked from me to the woods and shook her head. “A dragon. I’m certain I saw a dragon!” I spun around, searching for the long snout and sinuous neck. The dragon I had seen was not as tall as those of legend—it was small enough to hide behind a tree and perhaps a little bigger than a good, wagon-pulling mule.

  Now I could see nothing more than trees and darkness. I put a hand to my face and brushed off cold sweat. Had my eyes been playing tricks on me? What had I seen?

  Saffron crossed her arms over her chest. I noticed then that she was wearing a tunic, breeches and boots made of tanned animal hides. “I thought you said there weren’t any more dragons?” Both her eyebrows rose high.

  “There are. It was. But this was a blue, but not one like the ones in the old books. In fact, I think it was kind of blue-green and…and looked like a horse.” I glanced at the torch I’d lifted, now smoldering on the ground. “And why did that explode like that?”

  “Could be just sap.” Saffron raised her hands, palm up. “And are you listening to yourself? Wouldn’t we both have seen a dragon—they’re really big in the drawings in your book. Maybe I hit you a little too hard with that club when I knocked you over?” Her stare slid away from mine.

  “You think I’m crazy. But…I saw it. Blue and green and I thought it was a horse at first, but it was big, and then it lifted its head and I would swear it looked right at us—it was….curious. And how could I know that if it hadn’t been there?” I stopped and stared Saffron. “Maybe you are right—that doesn’t sound very sane.” I let out a breath. “I was hit on the head and all this talk of dragons…but the wood, the torch just exploding. It was almost like something hit it—and hit me, too.”

  Saffron gave a weak laugh. “If a dragon had just breathed fire on us to roast us for a meal, don’t you think we would be dead already?” She sat down next to the fire, her back to the woods. “As you say, I’m not from around these parts, but you told me no dragons exist here. No one talks about them or knows about them or is even supposed to think about them. And I don’t know about these trees, but I have seen sap pop and a big enough pocket could have flared up. So I just picked the wrong type of wood to use in a fire. Do you know about that sort of thing?”

  I shook my head. I didn’t know. My experience of building a fire was to ask a servant to do such a task. I didn’t even order my own wood—that had been left to others. The short time I’d spent with Byers had taught me little. She had sent me into the woods to pick up dead branches, but had never told me that there was any type of wood that you shouldn’t put in the fire. She’d only said it would smoke if the wood was too green.

  Slowly, I came back to the fire. Saffron had pulled out a blanket and she wrapped it around herself now. “If you don’t feel safe here you’re welcome to leave and I’m sorry I attacked you. But I’m getting some sleep now. You can keep a watch for dragons.” She lay down near the fire and closed her eyes.

  Cheeks burn
ing, I now felt an idiot. I wrapped my cloak around me and used my case with my books for a pillow. But I kept staring into the woods, and thinking about dragons.

  Saffron still angry with Jaydra? The thought woke me and I let out a sigh. It was barely first light and I was still angry with Jaydra. How could she have allowed herself to be spotted like that? I’d reacted blindly with my magic, and it was Bower’s own luck that I hadn’t done more than explode his torch and push him to the ground. At least he’d been distracted enough that Jaydra had time to fade into the shadows. I had almost blinded us all.

  Saffron did good. And Bower seems one to trust. Jaydra’s thoughts carried a touch of stubborn petulance. She’d thought the same thing to me last night. I still wasn’t certain.

  As a punishment for having allowed herself to be seen, I had left her on guard. Even a sleeping dragon can smell danger leagues away. Getting up, I stretched and sent my thoughts to Jaydra.

  How could you be so careless as you were last night? You know the humans here fear dragons far more so than any islander. You know we have not met any human we could trust.

  Don’t know. Bower just has…a strange way. It felt almost like his mind was close. Just wanted to see Bower.” Jaydra’s thoughts confirmed my worst fear.

  There was something different about Bower, just as there was something odd about everything that had happened last night. So far, Bower seemed to be the one person in this whole land with any knowledge of dragons at all and who might even know the very place I was seeking. It was almost as if our paths were meant to cross.

  Mother Zenema used to speak of such things. All life connected. To pull on one scale over here might scratch another scale over there.

  I doubted Jaydra knew what that meant.

  So? I asked her with my thoughts. It’s no accident we met him. Was he sent to find us? Is he liar after all?

  Not smelling dishonesty. Jaydra gave a throaty growl as she yawned.