“King’s Village?” Justin scratched his chin. “I am certain someone was talking to me about that, just recently.”
I frowned. How could he have forgotten King’s Village and the battle for it? My throat tightened. “Prince Justin—the Darkening? There are new attacks?”
“It cannot be,” Justin said in a weak voice. He shook his head. “There are raiders and Wildmen as always. That is why we increase our patrols.” He smiled. “Which is why I want you to consider a request to be a Green Flag.”
“I can’t believe you would ask this of me. You know I am the best archer at present. I’ve beaten you enough times!” I pointed a finger at him. “When we were younger, it became embarrassing how often I would win against you.”
“No.” His face hardened into that of a stranger’s. “I have always been the better archer. Why seek to annoy me?” He sounded haughty, and nothing like the Justin I knew.
“Do you—do you remember the apple tart incident? Or the mud pies?” I asked.
“What on earth are you talking about? I would never have been allowed to play with mud pies. My father would have had a fit.”
You’re right, he never did allow you—but you did so anyway, because you knew you could bully everyone into letting you, for you were the heir to the throne.
I remembered those days—but he did not.
Worry grew into a nibbling monster. I could think of only one thing that would change him—someone had used the Memory Stone on the prince.
But if Commander Hegarty had the Memory Stone, had it been him? But why? Or had the commander lost the stone? Was that why he was sending out patrols. It had been a long transport to bring it home. Perhaps the stone had gone missing then?
I turned Bill for the academy. “I’m sorry Justin, I—I thank you for taking an interest in my career, but I must get back. There is something very important I have to look into.” The prince was looking annoyed—but a few moments from now he wouldn’t remember why. That was as sad as it was terrible. “Thank you for your advice.” I turned and headed back at a fast trot. I needed to find Seb.
Then we need to find out just who had the Memory Stone—and why was it being used on the prince.
*
Chapter 7:
Burglary
“It’s simple,” Thea said, her voice breathless and her face flushed. She had just come back from what she’d said was supposed to be a moonlit ride with the prince. And why hadn’t she told me about that before? I stared at her. Sunset was still glowing with a fading purple in the west—she hadn’t even been out until the first star appeared. I didn’t know what had gone wrong, I was just glad that it had. I didn’t like how the prince had been looking at her all day.
But now Thea was saying crazy stuff.
“You distract him and I’ll sneak into his study.” Thea gave a sharp nod.
I shook my head. The Dragon Horns had sounded almost an hour ago. Around us, the keep echoed with riders talking about the squadron placements. I sat, along with Merik and Varla, where our little group always sat, at the back near one of the windows. Thea had got here late, missed most of dinner, had barely even made an attempt of putting anything in her bowl before she starting talking about this crazy idea.
“But—tonight? This all seems a little last-minute.”
“Scared I’ll get caught?” Thea looked at me with a challenge lighting up her blue eyes.
“Yes. Which is only sensible. If you get caught—”
“I won’t. Something is wrong. Commander Hegarty has been spectacularly close-lipped lately.”
“Spectacularly bad-tempered lately,” Merik said.
Thea nodded. “Prince Justin was even worse. We found the Memory Stone in the first place. What if it’s bringing trouble, just like the commander said it would?”
I shook my head and dropped my voice. “Who would do that?”
Thea flicked a glance to the head table where the instructors sat. She leaned closer. “Who hates all Dragon Riders, and us in particular? Who doesn’t look at all as if he ever rode a dragon? Who is a bitter old man who might laugh to see the academy brought down?”
I glanced at Instructor Mordecai, who was scowling into his cup as if he really did hate everyone.
“She might have a point,” Merik said, his voice soft. “He was really, really mean to you last year.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s a servant of the enemy,” I muttered.
Varla glanced from me to Thea and back again. “You could find out. If Commander Hegarty has the Healing Stone and the Memory Stone that means it’s not being used, and the prince is just…well, being a prince, I guess.”
Letting out a breath, I told Thea, “I’ll go.”
She shook her head. “I’ll know if it’s there.”
“That’s not going to work. We need a diversion. Do you really think I can manage one? What—should Merik and I fake a fight? That’s going to be too obvious. Or should Varla and I start yelling at each other?”
Thea was frowning now. “Okay—I see your point.” She glanced around us. “You’ll have to search. I’ll get everyone’s eyes on me.”
“Just what are you going to do?” I asked.
She grinned, stood and said, “Just get ready.” Picking up her bowl of meat, she walked toward the main table in the center of the keep. I slipped away from our table, and headed to the side door that led to the kitchen and the back stairs.
Thea didn’t waste any time. Right next to Beris, Thea accidentally tripped, spilling her cold mutton stew onto his shoulder and head.
Jumping up, Beris yelled, “What did you do?”
The room erupted into howls of laughter.
Hands spread out, Thea smiled. “I’m sorry, Beris. Guess it’s just been a very long day.”
“You did that on purpose.” Beris kicked at the bench where he’d been sitting and swiped at the stew clinging to his jerkin. A chunk of meat stuck to his hair. Riders started to slide out of the way, leaving space for a possible fight.
Thea widened her eyes. “It was an accident.”
“If you’re so prone to accidents, you’d better watch your step,” Beris muttered, snatching a cloth that Syl had offered.
A whisper rippled through the crowd—I knew bets were being made.
“Why don’t you just go back to your blacksmith boy? That’s your kind now, isn’t it? You’d rather go slumming than be with your own kind.”
Thea gritted her teeth and muttered, “One more word, Beris. Just one more.”
Beris stuck his chin out. I shook my head. He was so stubborn he couldn’t see a baited trap in front of him “What? Standing up for that peasant? Because he can’t do it for himself.”
“Oh, he can do more than you can. And he’s not a mutton-head like you.”
Beris’ face reddened. He swung first. Thea ducked back and then struck out. Her fist hit Beris so hard that I was sure everyone in the room heard the crack.
“Stop this at once!” Commander Hegarty shouted.
Beris hit the table, clutching his bruised jaw. He pushed up and pounced on Thea. The two of them slammed into a table—metal plates, stew and goblets went flying and a shout went up. All backs were turned to me now. Everyone—riders and instructors—were concentrating on the fight.
I turned, slipped out, headed along the stone passageway and made for Commander Hegarty’s study.
It wasn’t hard to find or get into. I’d been here before and I knew the commander liked a clean, sparse room. He had a small library, a conference chamber and a room to sleep in. All of it kept nearby to the enclosure, so he might be on the ground or in the air right away.
Heart pounding, I stared at his room.
No one at the academy should be a traitor or a thief—any cadets caught in any crime were sent home at once. A Dragon Rider was supposed to think of nothing but dragons and helping others. Yet here I was sneaking into the commander’s rooms.
Guilt wrapped around my throat. Was I bet
raying the commander’s trust? What would happen if he found out I’d been here? I tried to think of this as just confirming what I knew—that the stones were safe. But some part of me was certain that the commander would know I’d been here.
I took a breath and started to search.
This part of the academy and the keep were a part of the old monastery that had once stood here. The stone walls and floors were old and worn smooth. There were few places to hide anything, and the commander had only a few bookcases and a desk or two.
The room was surprisingly small, considering Hegarty was the commander and could have any rooms he wanted. One narrow window looked out onto the training grounds and a small lamp hung on one wall, giving light. Maps hung on the walls and scrolls stood stacked on the desk. A stand in the corner held the commander’s armor, which gleamed in the dull light.
Peeking into an open doorway, I saw a narrow bedchamber with a cot. I felt uncomfortable looking at his things. The bed held clean linens and a thick blanket. On the small side table another lamp glowed, showing a dagger and a length of harness that the commander must be fixing. A clothespress held a few of his jerkins, his boots and pants.
He had as little as I did, and I wondered if it was because we both came from rough parts of the city. Turning away, I headed into a smaller room that held weapons, spare dragon saddles, and old clothes. All the things a Dragon Rider and soldier would need. I went back to the study.
Maps and scraps of parchment lay on the desk. I was a good map reader, but not as good as Merik, and some of these maps made no sense, showing weird shapes and blobs of different colors. Others clearly showed troop movements. I could see on one the curve of the Leviathan Mountains, the tiny red circles for the city of Torvald, and the nearby villages.
I wondered if Commander Hegarty was mapping the enemy’s territory, or was he looking for something else?
Shifting the maps, I found another map with arrows pointing to the south and to the wide seas and islands. That had to be a rough outline of the Southern Realm. Some of the islands had only half of the coast marked. Another map showed deserts with the word dragons scribbled across it. Was the commander trying to map where all the dragons could be found?
The sound of heavy booted feet sounded outside the room in the hallway. My heart jumped. I ducked into the storeroom and hoped the shadows would hide me. The heavy steps moved away and I let out a breath. I needed to stop looking at maps and start looking for stones.
Heading back to the desk, I checked under the papers and opened the two drawers in the desk, but found nothing other than more papers and quills. Moving fast, I scanned the bookshelves, looking for anything out of place, or for a box, or something to hold the stones. Still nothing, and I was losing time.
I knew the commander at least had the Healing Stone. He’d used it on Thea, and he’d said he’d been tasked with protecting the Healing Stone. He’d also taken the Memory Stone from Thea—and it was supposed to be someplace safe. Desperation gnawing at me, I checked his armor and found nothing that shouldn’t be there. I stomped on the floor but nothing appeared to be loose.
That left only two places—the bedroom and the storeroom. I headed into the storeroom, rushing now, my heart pounding and the sweat cold on my skin. If this took any longer, I’d end up swallowing my own tongue in a panic.
In the storeroom, I ran my hands over the top shelf and found spare candles and lamp oil, bottles of ink, sheaths of blank paper, and old boots. One boot seemed a little too heavy even for a Dragon Rider’s boot. Put my hand into the boot, I touched something smooth. I tipped over the boot and the Healing Stone rolled out and into my hand with a comforting weight.
Light from the stone warmed the room. A cool, soothing sensation spread up my arm. My heart beat slowed and I took a deep breath. Was this what gave the commander so much vitality and strength? I felt its optimistic energies spreading through me.
Suddenly, a stick slapped my hand. I dropped the Healing Stone and staggered back. The feeling and the light winked out in a bright flash. Holding my stinging hand, I looked up to see Instructor Mordecai. He held his wooden cane out in front of him as if he was planning to beat me with it. Leaning down, he knocked the Healing Stone back into the boot, then turned to me. “What are you doing here?”
My mind was racing; the fog the stone had started to cast into me was wearing off.
Mordecai glared at me with narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Tell me why you are here. Tell me everything you know.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t talk—I didn’t know what to say.
Mordecai leaned closer. “You think you’re special because you were chosen by a red. Because you ride with a Flamma. Because…because!” He cracked his cane on the floor.
Kalax’s thoughts slid into mine. Danger? I knew she was alert now and could sense my fear. I felt her unfurl her wings as she got ready to leap into the air. I had a sudden image of Kalax tearing rocks and splintering windows as she strove to protect me.
Wait, I told her. I also gulped a breath and knew I had to think of something. If Mordecai suspected me of wanting to steal the Healing Stone, I was done as a Dragon Rider. But I couldn’t tell him I was searching for the Memory Stone. What if he was on the side of the Darkening? What if he was being controlled by the Memory Stone?
Gulping in another breath, I blurted out, “I know about the Healing Stone because Thea remembered it. She was injured…the battle for King’s Village. And my father is sick. I just wanted…I thought it would…would make me be able to heal him”
“Your father?” Mordecai raised an eyebrow. “The smith of Monger’s Lane?”
I nodded. It was true, and I was hoping that would help me. “Margaret the cook told me. My folks…they deserve more than just money from me. Dragon Riders are supposed to help the people of Torvald.” My stomach tightened. I was sure the truth of that was on my face, but would Mordecai still suspect me? “I was…I wanted to ask the commander about it. I thought…well, he might even heal my father of his drinking, of his bad chest.” My throat tightened and I felt my eyes start to burn.
Mordecai gave a snort. “The Healing Stone doesn’t work like that. It just goes to show how little you know of it. It can’t cure a man of thirst, or…there are some wounds that go too deep, that have been with a man too long.”
Was that why Mordecai crippled leg hadn’t been healed? It couldn’t be healed? It was too old a wound? It had been too deep to repair? Or was it just that the commander wouldn’t heal him? I didn’t understand why the Healing Stone couldn’t heal my father. Was Mordecai lying about that?
The instructor must have seen me looking at him with confusion. He shook his head. “The Healing Stone cannot be used for what ails your father—which is himself. One day you’ll understand that boy, perhaps, although I doubt you will ever live that long. Sometimes wounds are meant to make a person.” His gaze slipped to the commander’s suit of dragon armor. Once upon a time Mordecai would have worn just such a suit. Did it sit in his rooms gathering dust?
I shivered. Mordecai was no longer a frightening instructor who could throw me out of the Academy, but he was a broken man capable of a great deal. Was the past that had twisted his body also bad enough to turn him to the Darkening? Did the bitterness of not being able to be healed, even when the commander had such a power, eat at him?
Mordecai turned back to me, his eyes small and narrow. “I can’t suspend you like you were a cadet—but I give you leave to visit your ailing father. You’ll not come back to the Academy for three days and two nights—I don’t want to see your face here. And this…this will be recorded as a mark against you,” Mordecai said, his mouth curving down. “I would be surprised if you are trusted with so much as guard duty of the supply ponies after this.”
“But…but, sir?”
“But what? This is a light punishment.” He waved his wooden cane. “Now out from here and come with me.” He turned and left.
My feet heavy, I followe
d him along the stone hallways. After a few twists and turns and stairs, he threw open a wooden door and waved me in with his cane. I stepped into a study room, this one lined with bookshelves, lamps, large leather-covered chairs and thick rugs. A fire burned in the hearth, making the room almost too warm. I started to sweat and my stomach lurched. Mordecai headed to a table and opened a book labeled Disciplinarium.
He opened the book and under the last blank page wrote:
Sebastian Smith, Dragon Rider. Infraction. To spend three days and two nights solely with family, Monger’s Lane, Torvald.
Stepping to a shelf, he picked up two small bottles. One looked to be filled with dried herbs and the other with a clear, almost golden liquid. He pushed the bottles across the table to me. “Give your father a tea of the herbs for his, ah…indulgences and the tincture on his chest for his lungs. Now get out of my sight.”
I stared at the bottle and the mark against me, and finally got my words back. “Yes, sir.” Taking the bottles, I fled. I couldn’t quite work out if Mordecai had punished me or gifted me. Had he, another man with a chronic illness, taken pity on my father?
I had no idea, but I wasn’t about to argue just in case he decided to give yet another mark against me.
*
Chapter 8:
Of Maps & Monasteries
Seb was gone.
I wanted to punch him and hug him. How could he have let himself get caught like that? He had managed to send me a note, before he’d had to go. It was simple, but told me enough.
One, not two. Three days with family and a black mark.
That last had me ripping the note to shreds.
He’d gotten caught—which meant it was going to be even harder for us to prove we belonged in the Black Claw squadron. But at least he’d managed not to tell anyone why he was in the commander’s rooms. And that first sentence meant the Memory Stone wasn’t with Commander Hegarty.
Dragon Legends (Return of the Darkening Book 2) Page 7