Dragon Red: A Fire Unfed (The Dragonlords of Xandakar Book 2)

by Macy Babineaux

  But Marko was one of those few. He had been here once before. He stood before the dilapidated stone building, the windows caked with wind-blown sand. He drew the thick burlap drapes that served as the front door aside and stepped into the darkness.

  It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. The harsh odors of chemicals stung his nose. A layer beneath those smells was another, of fungus and decay. He hated this place, but the demon had sent him here, and he had to admit that the owl knew his trade.

  “Who’s there?” croaked a papery voice from the back of the shop. Marko squinted, his eyes finally adjusting. Jars and vials of liquid filled shelves along each wall as well as a display table before him. From behind a curtain of beads emerged a tiny man wearing a black robe. Liver spots covered his bald head. The skin stretched across his face like a skull wrapped tight in parchment. He looked like a puppet made from a dead bird, the only vibrant thing about him were his large, shiny eyes. They focused with recognition when he saw Marko.

  “Back again?” Nygel said, moving forward with a small cane.

  “I need something a bit stronger this time,” Marko said.

  “Oh?” the owl-mage said. “Was the last batch not potent enough? Did it not work as intended?”

  I don’t know, Marko thought. I hope it did. But if the potion he had put in his brother’s water had truly worked, he would never actually know, would he?

  “This is for another,” he said. “And this time there is no need for subtlety or half-measures.”

  “Oh?” Nygel said, chuckling, the sound like rustling papers. “You mean to kill someone?”

  Not just someone, Marko thought.

  “Another dragonborn?” Nygel asked.

  “Yes,” Marko said. “I have coin.”

  “Of course you do,” Nygel said. “Poisoning a being with fire in their veins is no simple matter.” He stepped to a shelf on the left side of the shop and reached up for a vial filled with amber liquid, some small black creature curled inside. “Their blood burns away most toxins.”

  “So you said the last time,” Marko said.

  “Yes,” Nygel said. “And that last job you had for me was a tricky one. You wanted the subject to lose his memories along with the ability to take his other form. But you did not want him dead. You still have not said how well it worked.”

  “Well enough,” Marko said. He did not want to talk or think about Kal anymore, only the task at hand, the death of his father. “Can you make what I want or shall I seek another?”

  Nygel chuckled again. “Calm yourself,” he said. “I only want to know whether my customers are satisfied. But the fact that you are here should be answer enough, I suppose. Besides, there are few others who could sell you what you want.”

  The ancient owl was probably right, but Marko didn’t want to admit as much to his face. “Just make it for me and say the price,” he said.

  “As you wish, my prince,” Nygel said. “As you have said, no subtlety is required this time, just raw power. I shall use the stinger of a mountain scorpion, I should think, infused with liquid frost to counteract the effects of the dragonblood.” He began to scan his shelves.

  “I care not how you do it,” Marko said. “As long as it is done.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Nygel said. “Merely thinking aloud. Go, peruse the market. Wet your wood among the pink tents if it suits you. Just return in two hours and I will have what you want.”

  Two hours? That would leave little time to make it back for the feast. He had hoped the owl would have something on hand. He sighed. “Very well,” he said, turning for the door.

  “You know,” Nygel said as Marko paused, his hand on the makeshift burlap door. “Most of my customers are womenfolk. They say poison is the weapon of choice for women and the weak, and I see no teats on you.” He chuckled again.

  I’ll show you weak, Marko thought, not bothering to turn around. When I rule this land, not just the west but all of Xandakar, my first order of business will see you roasted on a spit.

  He opened the curtains to the harsh sunlight and stepped out into the street.

  4: Kal

  He walked through the forest, the rabbit girl following somewhere behind. He could not fly, even though the witch had told him he was a dragon. Not just any dragon, but the Wildfire prince. Part of him still wasn’t sure he believed her. He had set out from her hut three days ago with more questions than answers.

  He had thought to head for the Wildfire palace. If he truly were the prince, perhaps just being there would rouse his memories. On the other hand, if he showed up claiming to be that which he was not, they might think him mad and throw him in the dungeons.

  The witch had told him the feather of the white hawks that nested in the ironroot tree would return his power of flight. With that he could swiftly travel to the Emerald Isle, where he was to find a lost lagoon and swim in its waters. That would return his memories. Those two things seemed to be all he needed, but snippets of her riddle played in his head, nagging at him. He truly despised witchcraft. Why not just tell him what he needed to know?

  But she had done the next best thing, setting him on a path. Whether it was the right one or not, he did not know. But it felt right.

  Not long after entering the forest, he had come upon the rabbit girl. Thalia, she had called herself. The snakes had destroyed her village, killing everyone. That was tragic for the girl, but also seemed to speak of something larger.

  He knew of the Sunscales, a clan of snake shifters that dwelled in the deserts where he was supposedly from. Of all the things he could not remember, for some reason this knowledge persisted. But why would they journey to Hartglade to massacre a village of rabbitfolk? It made no sense. He could only focus on one mystery at a time, though, and he had his own to contend with.

  Someone had taken his memories and his powers and set him adrift in the desert.

  Care for a drink, brother?

  He had to first regain the ability to shift, then discover who he truly was. The witch had told him, but hearing was not knowing. He needed to know.

  Still, the thought of the snakes nagged at him. He had encountered two of them chasing Thalia, and despite his inability to become a dragon, he still had plenty of strength to handle them. They had fled, and by the time he reached the village they were gone. He had circled round the burning remains, trying not to breath in the stench of smoke and death.

  At that time he did not know that the girl was following him. He had hoped she would flee. There was nothing left for her, and her best chance at survival was to either try to find another group of her kind or leave the forest altogether and start a new life somewhere else. That was probably difficult for one who had lived their whole life in one place, but sometimes you had to become someone else in order to survive. He didn’t know who had said that to him, but as he thought it, the words rang true. They also made him sad for some reason.

  After that he had not thought of the girl again. He walked the rest of the day east through the forest, a boring and uneventful hike in contrast to the morning’s events. He saw no more snake men nor rabbitfolk. He heard birds in the trees, but every time he looked, he saw brown or blue or red. Not white.

  He felt at peace as he walked beneath the shadows of the canopy overhead. Squirrels chittered and played among the branches. Butterflies danced across his path on the quiet air. At one point late in the afternoon he heard the burble of a brook and diverged from his route to find it. The water was clear and cool, and he drank deeply and washed his face before moving on.

  He continued to walk well after the sun had gone down. He felt strong enough to carry on, but after stumbling over two roots and stubbing his toe on a rock and nearly falling over, he decided to rest for the night. He laid down among the mossy roots of a massive tree and instantly fell asleep.

  The next morning he woke to the sounds of birds chirping. He stirred and sat up. There on the ground before him was a pile of berries, stacked like a tiny
pyramid atop a great green leaf. The berries were blue, fat and plump, and his stomach rumbled. He would have preferred a nice hunk of boar meat, but there didn’t seem to be any nearby.

  The girl, he thought. He looked around, but didn’t see any sign of her. He’d never eaten berries that looked exactly like these, but he doubted she was trying to poison him.

  That sparked some memory in him. He saw a face, a young man with a light beard and bright dark eyes handing him something. Just as soon as the memory formed in his mind it began to fade. He clutched at the thought, but it was like clutching at smoke. The trying made it disappear all the quicker.

  He sighed, sat upright, and reached out for a berry. He popped it into his mouth and bit down, the juice filling his mouth. Delicious, tart and sweet at the same time. He scooped up a palm full and began to devour them.

  Purple juice coated his beard and dripped on his chest, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t realized just how hungry he was, and if he were a dragon, apparently dragons didn’t mind eating berries.

  He caught motion out of the corner of his eye and tensed. But as he turned to look, he saw a small brown rabbit hop out of the foliage and sit upright before him.

  It was her. He could see the similarities in her eyes, even in this form. She was trying to prove herself useful to him, to convince him to bring her along. But he didn’t need the burden. He’d found the stream by himself. He would find his own food. Yet it would be rude not to acknowledge the gift. He held his hand, stained and dripping purple, up in the air.

  “Thank you,” he said. “It was a tasty breakfast.”

  The rabbit just stared at him. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t her, and he was simply talking to a forest animal. The rabbit’s nose twitched, the whiskers tilting from side to side. Then it darted back into the brush.

  He was beginning to feel foolish when a voice came from that direction.

  “It was the least I could do,” a woman’s voice said. She emerged into the clearing, this time as a woman. She wore a gauzy yellow dress that fell to her knees. Her feet were bare.

  He could not remember ever meeting a rabbit shifter before her, though his memories counted for little. He was surprised how beautiful she was. Her face had the features of her kind, round cheeks and a small nose. Her eyes were large and hazel, bright but sad. That was more than understandable. Her light brown hair fell around her bare shoulders. She was short, her body rounded nicely, and he felt a stirring for her that took him by surprise.

  But he simply couldn't travel with her. She would be as a stone around his ankle. If he developed feelings for her, that would be doubly bad. He had enough complications in his life right now, least of which was trying to remember who he was. He didn’t need the distraction of a pretty girl to confuse things further.

  “I thought I advised you to go in the opposite direction,” he said.

  “You did,” she said.

  He sighed. “A meal of berries will not change my mind.” Though as he said it, he wondered. She had grown up in these woods. Perhaps she could help him find what he was looking for. Perhaps she would be useful along the way.

  A light smile formed across her lips.

  No, he thought. You are trying to find excuses to bring her along because she is pretty. He stood up and brushed away the moss and leaves that had clung to his armor.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I truly am. But this is a journey I must take alone.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  “Well,” he said. “It might be dangerous.” As soon as he said the words, he realized his mistake.

  “My friends and family were all brutally murdered yesterday,” she said. “How could I be in any more danger with you than that?”

  “You would slow me down,” he said.

  “And yet I have kept pace with you so far,” she said. “Even with a sack in tow.”

  “You carried a sack here with you?”

  “I dragged it,” she said. “Where did you think this dress came from?”

  He shook his head. “I can’t,” he said. “I just can’t.” He had run out of reasons and no longer wanted to argue. He wanted merely to be on his way.

  He turned to go, and as he headed east through the forest he thought he could hear the sounds of soft crying behind him.

  Gods, he thought. I don’t need this right now. He almost stopped, almost went back. Instead, he kept moving forward.

  He walked throughout the day, listening for sounds of her behind him. He heard nothing.

  That evening, he settled near a great stump, overgrown with moss. He sat up against the base, folding his arms. He was hungry again. Some deep instinct told him to simply take his other form so that he could hunt. He’d seen small forest animals scurry in the brush or jump between the trees. But there had to be deer or boar in these woods as well, didn’t there?

  He had no weapons, though. He tried to shift into dragonform simply by willing it. Closing his eyes, he imagined himself growing claws and wings, becoming something else. But he felt nothing, and when he opened his eyes, nothing had happened.

  He thought of Thalia. She wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense. She was shorter than most women, lacking elegance or grace. But she was adorably cute.

  Doesn’t matter, he thought. He hadn’t heard or seen her all day. He’d probably hurt her feelings. For that he felt regret, but it simply couldn’t be helped. There was an urgency to his mission to recover himself. Machinery was in motion in the wider world. Perhaps the behavior of the snake clan was even linked to it. In any case, he knew he had to find out who he was as soon as possible. That meant regaining his ability to transform, then traveling to the Emerald Isle. And having a rabbit girl in tow was something he simply did not need.

  She was alone, hurting from the loss of her kind. But he was in no position to help her, was he?

  His stomach grumbled. He tried to put thoughts of charred meat out of his mind. Every time he did, the face of the girl swam before his closed eyes.

  Eventually he fell asleep.

  When he woke the next morning, he blinked his eyes and stretched. Then he stopped. There on the ground at his feet was a round leaf piled with what looked like shelled nuts.

  A wry smile formed on his lips. She was stubborn. He was beginning to like her. And he was of course thankful to awaken to food. He looked around, but saw nothing. Perhaps she was hiding in the bushes again. He didn’t really want to give her the satisfaction of knowing how hungry he was, but he couldn’t help it.

  Kal scooted forward and began to devour the nuts. There were at least three different kinds. He recognized bits of walnut, but not the other two. The earthy taste of them filled his mouth as he chewed, and he closed his eyes to savor them.

  Perhaps he should invite her along after all. He seemed woefully lacking at finding his own food, while she seemed to know exactly what she was doing. She was smart as well as persistent. And how did the old saying go? The gate to a man’s heart lies in his belly?

  He didn’t know about that. One of the same deep instincts that served in place of memories told him to be careful. Even if he were to invite her along, he should not let his feelings carry things anywhere. They were distinct kinds, rabbit and dragon, as far apart as the sun and the moon. Such a relationship would be as foolish as it was impossible.

  He was thinking such things as he swallowed the mouthful of food and opened his eyes.

  Thalia stood before him, arms tucked behind her back. She had an expectant smile on her face as she looked down at him. He had thought before she was merely cute, in a sisterly sort of way. But with the morning sun cascading down through the trees, she very nearly seemed to glow. She wore the same yellow dress as the day before, her feet still bare.

  Kal felt something stir within him, but he tried to push it down.

  “How is your breakfast?” she asked.

  “Good,” he said. “Thank you. Again.”

  “It was the least I could so,” she sa
id.

  She smiled. That deep sadness was still in her eyes, which made her seem even more beautiful in a way.

  Stop it, he thought. Keep your mind on the task at hand. But she was doing a fine job of wearing him down.

  “I seem to be unable to be rid of you,” he said, taking another bite and smiling as he chewed.

  “So it seems,” she said.

  He swallowed, sighed, and stood up. “I suppose we should set off together, then.”

  Her smile widened, her eyes brightening.

  “But only until I find what I need in this forest,” he said, pointing at her. “After that, my journey will take me far from here, and you will be on your own.”

  She nodded, unable to wipe the smile from her face. “Yes,” she said. “I understand. Thank you.”

  He knew he was being a fool, but he couldn’t help himself.

  Kal downed the last bite of nuts and brushed his hands. “Very well,” he said. “I’ve a good idea how far I’ve come, but less about how far I need yet to go. So we should be off.”

  He walked around the stump, starting to continue in the direction he had headed the day before.

  “Kal?” she said.

  He stopped and turned. Was she already about to slow him down? Perhaps he had made a mistake after all.

  “What?”

  She sheepishly glanced over her shoulder, then back at him. “You seek the grove of ironwood trees, do you not?”

  He nodded. “Yes.”

  “Well,” she said. “They are back the way you came. You passed them yesterday.”

  5: Nevra

  She stood before the young man suspended from the rafters, deep red stripes criss-crossing his back, bottom, and legs. She smiled, lowering the whip and letting the length of it pool on the wooden floor like a snake.

  The shiny black alligator-skin corset she wore felt nice and tight around her breasts and ribs. She walked around in front of him, her matching thigh-high boots clicking on the wooden floor.