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

by Ava Richardson

  Bower stepped on my foot.

  I turned to snarl and slap him, but he grabbed my wrist and tugged me around to the far side of a caravan going into the city and out sight of the metal statues. These had to be the Iron Guard Bower had talked about.

  The tribes that lived in the Western Isles sometimes carved figures from wood—and then claimed a spirit could enter the carving. Was this the same? I didn’t know, and I realized I would have to listen more to Bower and try to observe more and not get myself into trouble. There was so much I didn’t know.

  Bower urging us into the first narrow alleyway we came across. Jaydra followed us, limping as Bower had asked. We made another turn and kept climbing the steep streets. I risked another glance up to see crooked buildings leaning against each other. I was surprised by how much dirt there seemed to be here—it darkened windows, it choked the street drains, it hung in the air and I choked on soot and ash.

  I’d had it in my head that a city would be cleaner than any village or the wilds, but the opposite was true. Discarded rags, broken shoes, bits of broken pots, bottles and food scraps littered the streets. Scraggly cats and dogs skittered out of our way, carrying dead rats or refuse. Jaydra gave an offended sniff and turned up her nose. Her hooves clattered on the cobblestone, and my boots slipped on them. The stones seemed hard, and why would you want them instead of the earth of a nice cave. But the buildings amazed me.

  There were so many different kinds. Some looked made of wood, some of stone, some of things I could not name. Not all of them looked to be in use—many had darkened windows or caved-in roofs.

  Why build them if they cannot be used? Or why not tear them down? Why live in such a crowded place.

  As if to prove me right, the very next turn brought us to a narrow alley that seemed crammed full of wooden crates and blankets put up like the army tents I had seen. It seemed odd to me that people would live here when just a short distance away stood empty houses.

  I glanced at Bower.

  He nodded and lifted one hand. “I told you Torvald is not what it once was. This is Monger’s Lane.”

  “Should I know what means I asked?”

  Before Bower could answer, a man crawled out of one of the tents and stepped up to Bower. “Lord Daris? Bower of House Daris?”

  Lips pressed tight and heart now pounding, I glanced at Bower. Bower was a lord? He had never told me his family was important.

  Bower held up a hand to stop my questions, and he faced the man who had come up to him. Skinny and bald, the man’s age was impossible to guess. His clothes looked to be little more than aged rags, brown and patched. The bones on his face and hands stood out—did people not feed their own kind here in this city. “Jakson, is it not?” Bower said his tone making the words not much of a question really.

  “Yes, m’lord. Glad I am to see you well. Been hearing some terrible things.” The man wiped away a bit of scurf from his face and scratched at his chest.

  A few others peeked out of the tents, but mothers pulled their children back. However, some of the older folks who lived here came forward. I tensed, but they offered Bower smiles and nods.

  Soon others approached. They seemed a rag tag collection the likes of which I had never before seen. No one in the Western Isles allowed anyone to go hungry. Every family looked after its own—I’d see that in every island village. Even the disagreeing, the angry or the ill ones were cared for, and food and clothing was left out for the few hermits who took to living on their own.

  What sort of place left its people to live in tents in all this dirt and trash?

  A few hands stretched out to touch Bower’s sleeves and I heard murmurs of Daris…House Daris. Bower put down his bags, pulled a few coins from his pockets and handed them out, and I could see now why they treated him with such respect.

  I had assumed he had come from wealth—who else would carry books with him, and his clothes while dusty had been of fine fabric. But I had never thought him to be a lord. It seemed he was far more than I had known.

  Bower knows the meaning of den-family. Jaydra’s thoughts carried approval, and I agreed. Bower even appeared noble at that moment—no longer the awkward youth, but a generous soul, seeking to look after his den. His city.

  “How is your family, Jakson?” Bower asked. The others who had taken his coins had scurried off, back to their tents.

  “Some good and some not so good.” Jakson waggled his hand like a dragon might waggle its wings. “My littlest has the cough, but we’ve no coin for a doctor. But we’ll have food from the fair the king is planning. She’ll get better, tough little thing that she is.”

  Bower shook his head. “I’ve a coin left. Take it. I…I also must leave my books with someone. Will you take them Jakson, and if I do not return for them, sell them for whatever you can get to whoever will pay you and not ask questions. Can you do that?”

  “M’lord, you’ve not heard?” Jakson grimaced. “It’s all anyone could talk of amongst us anyway, seeing as we knew you and your family. The old lord was such a kind man.”

  “Thank you,” Bower said. “But what is this talk?”

  “The proclamation went out that House Daris has been cast off the Noble Rolls. Struck from the charts, from all duties at court and all privileges. You’ll be knowing what that means,” Jakson muttered, his face growing even more lined with worry.

  Bower let out a long breath. He patted one hand against Jakson’s chest. “Ah well, it was only a matter of time before that happened.”

  Jakson shook his head and wiped a hand over the stubble on his chin. “You can’t go home, m’lord. They’ll be out looking for you. They’ll have a watch on your house, m’lord. Might be best as you should stay with us. We can get you out. There’s some people—”

  “Friend, I only just got back into the city. But here is where they are least likely to be looking for me now. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be able to hide in plain sight, and I shall be fine.” Bower didn’t look fine however—in fact, he looked positively not fine to my eyes.

  Even in the flickering fires of this camp, I could see new creases marked lines around his eyes and mouth. His shoulders sagged. He scrubbed a hand through his hair and I shared Jaydra’s worry for him.

  Jakson gave a nod. “Most of us knew your father and he was good to us back in the day. As you have been. We’ll look after your things, m’lord, but no talk of selling them will I hear. We’ll keep them safe for your return.” The old man leaned close. “There’s a flame within. Don’t be forgetting that.”

  Bower’s head jerked up. I didn’t know what the words meant, but they meant something to Bower. Jakson headed back to his tent, and I tugged at Bower’s sleeve.

  “Let’s leave this spot,” I told him. Jaydra added her opinion, pawing at the cobbles with a clatter.

  Jaydra was right. This place stank of foul things.

  Bower turned from the tents to walk with me, Jaydra in step behind us. I glanced at him and asked, “Are you worried about the guards finding you?”

  Pointing ahead to a nearby bridge, Bower whispered that we must keep our heads down. The iron men stood guard on either side of this bridge, and there were no crowds crossing it that might hide us.

  I glanced at the iron men, wondering if they could see—would they notice Jaydra was a horse or not? One metal head seemed to turn our way, and I caught a breath.

  A shout rose up behind us—someone calling out thief and robber.

  The iron men moved with starting speed, changing in an instant from seeming like statues to being clanking monsters that stomped past us, heading over to look into whatever crime was being committed in the street behind us.

  Bower tugged on my arm, and we crossed over the bridge and into wider and cleaner streets. I let out a breath and I could even feel Jaydra’s relief at being away from the filth and the empty houses behind.

  It was almost like stepping into another world.

  The houses seemed bigger. Lanterns lit the o
utside stone structures and more lights glowed from within, spilling out of big windows. The people here wore thick cloaks and some even rode horses. Music came out of some of the houses, sweet and lively. I almost wanted to stop at these inns and taverns as Bower called them, but he kept pulling me with him. Every now and then we came across an empty, dark house and I wondered why it had been left to ruin. But it seemed that no one in this part of the city lived on the streets.

  “How far must we go?” I asked. I worried a little that Jaydra was not going to want to stay a horse much longer. I could feel her impatience—and she was getting hungry. So was I.

  Bower shrugged. “To House Daris, not far. But…well, it may be wise first to have a look to see if anyone is watching it.”

  “Who was Nev?” I asked.

  After glancing at me, Bower shook his head. His shoulders seemed to sag. “My father—Nev of House Daris. He was good to the poor and I tried to keep up that tradition. But too often it felt like a bucket of water thrown onto a raging fire—it never seemed to do much good. He…he was executed. For speaking out too much about the conditions in the city. It was only because my mother went to the king on my behalf that I was allowed to keep House Daris and we were both allowed to live.” His voice had become clipped and hard, and I wondered about that.

  I thought it bad my parents had left me, but Bower’s father had been killed by another. It surprised me that he wasn’t angrier—but perhaps he was and just hid it better.

  He stopped, and I did as well.

  Ahead of us, the road opened into what seemed like a small bit of woodlands with trees and grass. The buildings here seemed even bigger than any I had ever seen, and the streets were wide enough to allow fancy wagons with doors and tops that carried nice smelling people around. The horses all shied away from Jaydra as if they knew she wasn’t another horse.

  Turning to me, Bower smiled. “Some luck at last. My friend Vic is here. That’s his carriage over there—I recognize the coat of arms on the door. He’ll be at the Small Goose Theatre over on the other side of the square for tonight’s entertainments.”

  I frowned. “Your friend, can we trust him?” Bower glanced at me and frowned. “Just wait here with Jaydra. The carriage drivers are here, so you’ll just look like another horse for a carriage or a noble, and the servant set to keep watch.” He left me in the wooded area in the center of the square of buildings. As he had said, others men and women—each dressed in what looked a fancy uniform with gold embroidery on their chest that matched one on the carriage door near them or on the horse’s harness, loitered here. Some alone, and some talking to each other. I stepped closer to Jaydra and tried to look like we both were bored and belonged here, but I feared that neither was true.

  My heart thumped against my chest and sweat stuck my tunic to my back. It was warm in the city. And Torvald was not what I had expected.

  From what I had heard in other villages, it was supposed to be wonderful. I thought it crowded and noisy. To me, it seemed as if everyone I had glimpsed was either scared or ignoring those around them. It made me doubt I would learn anything useful about magic or my family.

  All I’d wanted to discover was who I really was and how to control my magic. I had thought I might find a new home here, but now I didn’t want that to be the case. None of this felt like the sort of place where I would ever fit in.

  “Fortunes read. Fortunes told!” a man called out. He didn’t shout, but his voice was clear enough to cut across the noise of wheels and horses and people strolling around me.

  I’d grown tired of waiting for Bower. Now, from where I stood with Jaydra, I watched a man weave his way through the people strolling across the square.

  I had thought magic was forbidden. Hadn’t Bower told me that?

  Zenema could read fortunes, I thought to Jaydra. The man was heading our way. He wore tan robes that swept down to his ankles and walked with a heavy staff made of ash. Under a drab cloak that looked dull brown, I could just make out a belt around his waist, and from it bits of metal flashed. It seemed impossible to place his age. His hair and beard were gray and long, but his face did not seem lined. He offered everyone a good-natured smile as if nothing in the world could ever disturb him.

  And he’s confident too—just like Zenema, I thought to Jaydra. The old hermit once told me it’s the mark of a powerful sorcerer to be able to read the future and be calm even when in danger.

  Jaydra snorted. Den-mother Zenema didn’t need to see fortunes. She knew Saffron and could see what Saffron would do. Her thoughts carried an edge of impatience, and dismissal.

  But if this man really can do magic that means that there are others in the city like me, I thought to her. Zenema had told me to follow the magic inside me and to go to the place where my parents had come from. Maybe this was the place and here was one person who had magic. It had to be a sign.

  I watched the magician come closer, his steps halting. He tapped in front of him with his staff and I realized he was poor sighted. White clouded his eyes.

  I nudged an elbow into Jaydra’s side and whispered, “Look, he has white eyes just like Zenema.

  Saffron’s eyes not white, Jaydra thought to me.

  I frowned at her, but the magician had come closer, so I reached out and touched his arm.

  He stopped and fixed me with a white-misted stare. “Yes? Who stops me?” “I’m sorry.” I pulled my hand back.

  “You’ve come to have your fortune read, haven’t you, girl? Want to see if you are to marry a pretty man? A rich man?” He thumped the ground with the tip of his staff. “Well, if you have a coin I’ll read your fortune. What’s your name?”

  I had no coins—I hadn’t found a use for them. I had traded for anything I’d ever needed. I patted the pouch at my side, wondering what I might trade. I had the fold of cloth with my mother’s name on it, a dragon’s baby tooth, a few shells and some of the colored rocks from the island’s many caves. I fished out one of the colored rocks for others had liked them. “I have these. I’ve always thought them prettier than coins. Will this do?”

  He reached out and took the stone, frowning. Then he brought the stone very close to his eyes and muttered, “An uncut emerald. You surprise me, child. What did you say your name was?”

  I frowned. I wasn’t sure I should tell him, so I said, “I don’t want to know about any future marriage. I need to discover the truth about my family.”

  The man tucked the stone into a pouch that hung from his belt, and then he stroked his beard. “You are a strange one and no mistake. Emeralds and family. Are you a runaway from one of the orphanages?”

  “What’s an orphanage?” I asked.

  Jaydra’s voice brushed against my mind. Be careful with our secrets.

  She had a point. We did not know what might happen to us in this city. We didn’t know who was a friend or not. I glanced around. No one else seemed to be paying us any mind, so I asked them man, “How come you’re not afraid as are so many others here?”

  The man blinked. “Afraid of what? You?”

  “Of…what happens to those who break the law. Afraid of the guards I guess.”

  “The Iron Guard? You mean because of my gifts?”

  Leaning closer, I whispered, “Isn’t magic against the law? So fortune telling could get you into trouble.”

  The man’s mustache twitched. He smoothed his grey beard again and the hairs frizzed as if charged by lightning in the air. “You are in the right of things, but do you see any Iron Guard? Do you feel their metal nearby, hard upon the senses, leaving the air smelling of copper? My magic tells me where I am safe. It even led me to talk with you. A powerful feeling pulled me to this spot, to this rich neighborhood where I do not often visit. It was the magic you see. It can call to you like that.”

  I thought about the times I had felt my powers bubble up, how it suddenly flooded my senses so I had no choice but to answer it. I nodded. “It controls you then?” I pushed out a breath. If he couldn’t
control his magic as old as he was, what hope did I have.

  He gave a soft laugh. “No, I control it. The magic is alive within me, but I make the choice to listen to it or not. I made peace with it long ago and it has become my friend.”

  I frowned at that. What did he mean make peace with it? Make it a friend? I wanted to master my magic, control it and make it work for me.

  Dragons not controlled by others, Jaydra thought to me.

  I glanced at her horse face. She gleamed with a touch of blue in her black coat in the light of the lanterns hung from the buildings. And she stared back, a little smug that this magician had not seen through the illusion that made her appear to be a horse.

  There are all kinds of magic, I told her with my mind and looked back to the magician.

  He pushed his shoulders back and looked both wiser and nobler than he had before. “There are so few of us left. So few who can control the power inside. Have you ever heard of any others like me?”

  I opened my mouth to say something about dragons and myself, but Jaydra gave me a powerful mental shove. Saffron, be wise with secrets, and Saffron has no control.

  I won’t tell him the whole truth, I thought to her, irritated I couldn’t speak more plainly. This was a chance to learn about magic. Pulling out the fragment of stitching that bore my mother’s name, I held it open before me and asked him, “What can you tell me of this?”

  “Amelia.” The man touched a finger to the letter. “This is your mother? An aunt?”

  “I want to find my family, if they are from her. Can you do that?”

  “Ah…” He frowned, bushy eyebrows flattening over his white eyes and stroked his beard again.

  My chest tightened and so did my throat. My heart beat faster. What if I had insulted this last magician by asking him to do some petty, little magic. I fished the last colored stone I had and shoved it into his hand. “Take this. And please help me.”

  From across the way, Bower called out, “Saffron?”