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

by Macy Babineaux

  “Thank you,” Kal said. He turned to Thalia. “Shall we go?”

  “What’s the hurry?” Vander asked. “You have gone this long without your past to weigh you down. Why not wait a little longer? Care to join me for a bite to eat?”

  Thalia’s stomach rumbled again. She hoped no one heard it. But Kal seemed eager to leave. Does he not trust the green king? she wondered. Why wouldn’t he? He seemed nice enough. Then again, there was the business with the dragons intercepting them. Why such a heightened state of alert? Were they always this wary of anyone coming here, or was something else going on?

  “No, thank you,” Kal said. “We’re not hungry.” Yes, something was going on. Kal himself had suggested finding some food.

  “Very well,” Vander said. “Enjoy your journey.” He turned to head down the walkway back to the shore, then stopped and turned back around. “Just see that you don’t stray inland or too far up the coast. And when your business at the lagoon is done, it would not be wise to tarry.” He smiled, but Thalia did not see the smile in his eyes.

  The two dragon guards launched themselves into the air, flying back the way they had come. Vander turned again and headed toward the shore, where Thalia could see a cluster of houses built among the trees.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked, once Vander was out of earshot.

  “Perhaps just being near the lagoon is helping me to remember,” Kal said. “Or perhaps I am being paranoid. But I think I remember something about that man.”

  “What?”

  “To never trust a thing he says.”

  10: Nevra

  She flew low over the mountains in the darkness, seeing clearly despite the moonless sky. The entrance to the crypt was well-hidden, but she had been here so many times she could find it with her eyes closed.

  Nevra made a wide circle, flapping her black wings in the still air, then landed on a narrow ledge near the top of a low peak. She transformed, her black scales becoming skin-tight armor across her lithe body, her wings shriveling into nothingness.

  The face of the rock wall looked like any other for the hundreds of miles that spanned the Scorched Mountains. But this one was different. This one was special. She had searched for this place for over three years, finally finding an old witch in the far reaches of the Silent Swamp who knew the location. Once the crone had told her what she wanted, Nevra had taken dragonform and breathed black bile all over the witch to melt her into oblivion.

  She reached out to touch the cool rock with both hands, pushing gently with each. The rock became like satin, folding inward on itself. She smiled and stepped into the darkness.

  Torches lined the narrow hallway to the main chamber, always burning with a sick pale light. Disturbing shadows flicked across the walls like imps ever-dancing in the darkness. She walked forward, hearing the grinding rock of the door closing behind her. Every time it did, she wondered if she would be able to get out again. Perhaps today was the day she would be sealed in this place forever, with only the demon for company.

  She emerged into the chamber to see Marko, sitting in a carved wooden chair. He was hunched over, his head in his hands.

  “Ah,” she said. “You’re here already. Is it done? Are you now the king?”

  Marko raised his head, a strained look on his face. “My father still lives.”

  Nevra sighed. She began to wonder whether she had chosen the right partner for her conquest. He desired her, and that made him easy to manipulate. But she was a beautiful girl. Finding someone to lust for her was not difficult. Perhaps he was too weak. He certainly had a poor record of carrying out the necessary tasks.

  “Tell me,” she said, walking to a nearby table with a tiny gold coffer sitting on top. She flipped the catch and opened it, revealing sparkling white powder. She dipped the long fingernail of her smallest finger into the dust and held it to her nose to breathe it in.

  That’s better, she thought, the feeling of power and pleasure lighting up her mind.

  “Must you always snort that vile stuff?” Marko asked.

  “Perhaps you should have a sniff,” she said. “It might help you to not be such a miserable failure.”

  “I did everything I was supposed to,” he said.

  “Except the only thing you were supposed to do.” She walked to the pile of black pillows and sank into them, feeling the demon ash flow through her. She was annoyed, but not worried. She was getting used to this by now. Perhaps she would have to kill him. Perhaps she would find another to take his place.

  “I traveled to the Dark Bazaar,” Marko said, standing up. “I found the poison maker and bought the strongest he could make. At the feast last night I put it in his wine.”

  “Then how is it he still lives?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” Marko said. “He is stronger than the owl gave him credit for. Perhaps the dosage was too low, or the mage made a mistake. My father lies in his bed, black webbing under the skin of his neck and face. He could still die by morning.”

  “Or the mages may find a cure,” she said. “Or his blood may yet burn away the poison. You need to return to finish the job.”

  His eyes grew wide. “And how am I to do that?”

  Poor Marko, she thought. So little imagination and drive.

  “Come here,” she said. Perhaps one day soon she might have to get rid of him, but today was not that day. She needed this thing to be done. She needed Karth Wildfire to die. And all Marko needed was a little motivation.

  He paused, then walked to where she lay among the pillows to stand over her.

  “Take it out,” she said.

  “Nevra,” he said, laughing nervously. “Is this really the time?”

  “Is there really ever a time you do not wish me to play with it?”

  He blushed, his face becoming red even the dim torchlight. Then he fumbled for his armor, pulling down from his shoulders until he was bare to his knees. He was already stiff at attention for her.

  She sat up, inspecting him. She liked what she saw well enough. But no, he was actually right. This wasn’t really the time for a roll among the pillows. He needed motivation, and she would give it to him.

  She reached out with her left hand and curled her fingers around his sack. Then she squeezed.

  He flinched and let out a hiss.

  “You wish to rule over all of Xandakar by my side, do you not?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said, his voice thin with pain. She could see him reach for her hand. She stopped him with a harder squeeze. He groaned and doubled over.

  “Put your hands behind your back,” she said. As he complied, she relaxed her grip, but not too much. “Well, my prince. It takes an enormous pair of these to rule an entire world, much less a kingdom.”

  She twisted just a quarter turn. His groans played like music in her ears. “How will you rule anything if I take them from you right now.”

  “Please,” he said. “Don’t.”

  She was beginning to think there was no way he could rule all of Xandakar by her side. He was fun, a thing to be played with. But she was already growing bored with him, as well as impatient at his shortcomings.

  Nevra reached out with her other hand and thumped the head of his cock with a shiny black nail. He flinched and yelped. Then she let him go completely.

  He gasped with relief, panting.

  “Find a way to finish him off,” she said. “Go to his chambers when he is alone. Smother him with a pillow or put a dagger between his ribs. I care not how, only that it is done. This thing cannot be left to chance.”

  He staggered backwards, nearly falling.

  “Pull up your armor,” she said, leaning back into the pillows.

  He slowly did as she said, flinching again as he tugged the scaled armor up over himself. He would be sore, but the throb between his legs would remind him of his duty.

  “What are you waiting for?” she asked, once he was fully dressed again. “Go.”

  He looked at her with
a pained expression of desperation. She saw the love and longing in his eyes, and she wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or disgusted with him. But then she was pleased to see his face harden into a mask of determination. He nodded and straightened up, then turned for the hall leading out of the chamber.

  He may yet still be useful, she thought. “Oh, and Marko?” she called after him. He turned. “My father has just given me some news. I am to wed Vander Tanglevine.”

  Why not put a little dollop of jealousy atop the cake?

  His face grew a darker shade of red, but that look of determination still held. “They will both be dead soon,” he said. “Both the black and green kings.”

  Good, she thought. Perhaps he is a little stronger than I give him credit for.

  “Let me know when the deed is done,” she said. “Return to me a king and I will reward you with a softer touch.”

  Marko turned and disappeared into the shadows.

  She reached over to a glass vial sitting on the floor and popped it open, sniffing in another dash of demon ash. In the bazaars, the fire flingers would juggle torches, eat the fire, and sometimes toss a handful of white powder into a brazier. The small orange fire would burst into a multicolored flame twice as high and three times as bright. That’s what her mind felt like when she sniffed the ash.

  Nevra rose from the pillows and looked down the hallway to make sure Marko had gone. Then she walked down the short staircase at the back of the chamber. There, in a circular room only big enough for a few people to gather was a well ringed with black stone. She didn’t look down into it. She had done that once and thought she might go mad. The void in that well was utter and complete, threatening to pull her into it, to float in black weightlessness for all eternity.

  Suspended above the pit by a chain made of white bone was a metal cube. Ancient runes were carved into both the chain and the box, which Nevra knew was actually a prison.

  “Hello again, my child.” The voice, if one could call it that, came from inside the box. The sound was like the claw of some great beast scraping against raw bone. It seemed far away and inside her head at the same time.

  “Greetings,” she said. This place scared the shit out of her, but also made her feel more alive. She knew she was playing with an especially deadly kind of fire, but she loved it.

  “How are the plans progressing?”

  “Slowly,” Nevra said. “The red king is near death.”

  A strange sound emerged from the cube, a choked gurgling. It took her a few moments to realize the demon was laughing. “Are not all mortals near death all the time?” he asked. “Your little prince has failed?”

  “He will finish the job,” she said, hoping what she said was true.

  “And what about this cage?” Vish’Kazir asked.

  The demon wanted out. He’d made that clear from the very start, and he asked every time they met.

  “I continue to seek those with the knowledge to break these bonds,” she said. “But so far the search has turned up nothing. The magic that imprisoned you is ancient. Whoever cast the spells is probably long dead.”

  “No,” the voice said, angry now. The chains rattled as the box quivered. “Someone knows. You must find them. You must release me.”

  “I’m trying,” Nevra said. This wasn’t true, of course. The witch had told her, just before she died, how to free the demon. Not the particulars, but how to find them. But Nevra didn’t want to release him. Not yet. Not unless she absolutely had to. “Once my father and the other dragonlords are dead, I will have the entire realm at my disposal. Before I burn down the home of the owls, I can torture them to death one by one. Someone knows how to unlock these chains. Until then I will keep searching, but your truest path to freedom lies in helping me.”

  The cube was silent. She waited, taking deep, steady breaths. She had to be careful here. She was dealing with an ancient being. He was evil, and he was very clever. She wondered if he could see inside her mind, inside her very soul. Did he know she was lying? Even if he did, what could he do? He had hung there, alone in that metal box for a thousand years. Certainly helping her was more interesting that languishing in solitude? She only hoped that if she did have to set him free, he wouldn’t kill her. Or worse.

  “Very well,” the demon hissed. “Tell me where we stand.”

  11: Kal

  The Lost Lagoon was exactly where Vander had told them it would be, not so lost after all.

  Kal circled above it, Thalia seated at the back of his neck, her hands wrapped around him. He liked the feel of her on him. She was soft, vulnerable, but as he had come to find, she also had steel within her. He kept trying to remind himself that he could never be with her, that even thinking about it was a foolish waste of time. But the more he tried to push the idea out of his mind, the stronger it seemed to take hold.

  Part of him hoped that swimming in the waters of the lagoon would change him, make him remember some other woman in his life. That would make things easier. But the other part of him wished his feelings for her would persist even when his memories returned to him.

  Then again, there was a chance that this wouldn’t work at all. Perhaps the feather had been a fluke.

  The lagoon was a short flight in from the coast, a small opening in the jungle canopy exposing a small body of water ringed by white sand. The water of the lagoon was a mesmerizing shade of crystal blue, the sunlight sparkling off its surface. Black volcanic rock bordered the water nearest the sea, trailing up into a small range of hills. Water flowed from somewhere high up in the hills, feeding into the lagoon in the form of a waterfall. The sunlight streaming through the churning water prismed into the spectrum of a rainbow.

  The place certainly looked magical, even if Vander had said he had never heard such a thing. Why would the witch send him here if it weren’t true? To toy with him? No, the feather had restored his power to shift and fly. The waters would make him completely whole again.

  Kal stretched out his wings and glided the rest of the way down, reaching out his massive claws to sink into the sand along the edge of the lagoon’s water. They skidded to a stop, sand flying up before them in a great cloud.

  He lowered himself flat against it, feeling the warmth against the scales of his chest and belly, so that Thalia could climb down more easily. She hopped off of him and ran to the edge of the water, wading in up to her ankles.

  Kal stood up as he shifted into human form once more.

  Thalia turned to him and laughed. “This place is incredible.”

  “Yes,” he said, unable to keep himself from smiling at her happiness. But he was anxious. What if this didn’t work? What if they had flown all this way for nothing?

  Actually, the answer to that might be simpler than he thought. Perhaps he could simply start all over with a new life. No one could reasonably expect him to be someone he was not. And if he could not remember his life as Kaladon Wildfire, then how could be live as him? He could start again with Thalia by his side.

  Thalia waded in up to her knees. “Aren’t you coming in?”

  “I’m not sure this was wise,” he said. “Perhaps we should leave.”

  Her brow wrinkled. “What? What are you talking about? We came all this way.”

  Just looking at her, standing like that in the shallow water, made his heart ache. She was so beautiful, so innocent, and yet so strong. He wanted to tell her that he cared for her, that he was afraid that if he regained the memories of who he was he would forget the past few days. And he didn’t want to forget his time with her or the new feelings he had found along the way.

  “What’s wrong?” she said, a worried look now crossing her face.

  The idea of starting fresh with a blank slate was an appealing one, but it also seemed cowardly. He had a life, one where people almost certainly depended on him. If he turned his back on that, he was doing so for selfish reasons.

  He swallowed hard and shook his head. “Nothing,” he said. He took a deep breath, smel
ling in the lush green of the jungle around them, the smell of the baking sand, and the crisp mist of the magical waters. Then he waded in beside her.

  He felt nothing, though he was only up to his knees. He looked at Thalia. She nodded at him, urging him further into the water.

  Kal waded up to his waist, then his chest. He looked at her again. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said. Then he reached up and grabbed his armor around his neck.

  “Mind what?” she said.

  He pulled the armor down around his shoulders to his waist, revealing his upper body.

  “Oh,” she said, blushing. But she did not turn away.

  “Perhaps the water needs to touch my skin,” he said. He bent down and pulled the skin of the armor down his legs and completely off. He lifted it wet above his head and threw it onto the sand.

  “Yes,” Thalia said, clearing her throat. “Good idea.”

  The water was crystal clear, but from this far he doubted she could see much of his body. But that might not be such a bad thing after all. If the waters didn’t heal his mind, perhaps this would be as good a place as any to reveal his feelings for her and show her how he really felt.

  As he stood there, he certainly didn’t feel any effect from the water. It was warm, though near his feet it grew cooler. His toes squished as they sank in the wet sand. But no memories came flooding back.

  Kal smiled at Thalia, standing there with her hands clutched at her breast, the hem of her yellow dress pooling up at the edges of her legs.

  Then he turned and plunged headlong toward the waterfall, submerging himself entirely.

  He pushed himself through the water with his powerful arms, kicking his feet. He opened his eyes. Through the crystal-clear water he saw the dapples of sunlight on the white sandy bottom of the lagoon, the bright green ropes of kelp growing upwards, and the schools of bright blue and orange fish darting and switching directions as if they were a single creature. He saw the churning bubbles where the waterfall hit the lagoon.