Breath of Dragons (A Pandoran Novel)

by Barbara Kloss

  I snorted and shook my head, and we kept walking.

  Beautiful birds in the most vibrant shades I'd ever seen shot like bullets of color through the trees. Their chirping had a certain melodic quality to it that made me wonder if the birds were actually singing a song, harmonizing with one another. And sometimes a shower of warm rain would descend in a soft patter and we would duck beneath one of the countless umbrella-sized leaves. The showers never lasted very long, though, and within minutes we'd be back on our way.

  Every so often, Alex would touch my shoulder and press more of his soothing energy into it. It helped a little, and the warmth of the jungle loosened my tight muscles, but what I really wanted was to lie down and go into hibernation for a few months.

  Another lovely attribute of this colossal jungle was the bugs. They were huge. Giant black and hairy spiders hung from massive, thick webs, dangling in a cloud from treetops. At one point I made the mistake of kicking over a stone lying in the middle of the trail. Beneath it was a beetle the size of my foot. It hissed at me and I jumped back, hastily kicking the rock back on top of it. I hated bugs.

  Alex chuckled behind me. "Honestly. You face gargons and unseen and giants, and you're afraid of a beetle."

  "Alex, that wasn't just any beetle. That thing could've eaten my foot off. I don't trust things with that many legs, and I certainly don't trust creatures that wear their skeleton on the outside. It isn't natural."

  "Speaking of not natural," he said, "care to explain how, exactly, you got us out of that prison?"

  I'd almost forgotten the events of the past few hours, being so distracted by these new tropical reveries. After meeting Godzilla the Beetle, I felt a little more energized, so I recounted every single detail loudly enough for Vera to hear. When I glanced back at Alex during the explosive part of my story, he stopped and stared at me as if my hair had suddenly turned purple. He blinked, shook his head, and resumed walking, asking me to continue.

  Once I finally finished, he said, "I can't decide if that was ingenious or incredibly stupid."

  "Since we survived," I said, "let's go with ingenious."

  "I'm going with incredibly stupid," Vera added from the front. "You're lucky Myez Rader didn't have you killed on the spot."

  "He wouldn't hurt me, Vera," I said. "He had specific orders not to hurt me, which was why I knew it had to be me."

  She snorted.

  I decided not to mention that she was the one who had led us down there in the first place.

  "But you don't really know where the box is," Alex asked. "Or do you?"

  I shook my head. "No, I still don't, but I just needed to distract Myez long enough for me to blow up his stores of fire and ice and steal his keys."

  "Which was exceedingly risky, I might add." Alex's tone was heavy with disapproval.

  "I know, but it was the only thing I could think of. It was either that or be in Eris's hands…"

  Or Thad's.

  I refused to let myself think about him right now.

  Alex's eyes burned in my back.

  "Vera." I decided to change the subject. "How do you think Mercedes will react to what happened with Myez Rader?"

  Vera brushed past a large leaf drooping into the trail. "I don't know how she will respond, but it had to have been a singularly invaluable offer for Myez Rader to denounce decades of servitude. A person does not defy Mercedes Bellona of Gesh." She said this last part in a way that made me think she had personal experience with the consequences of such an act.

  "Who is he, really?" I asked. "And how does Mercedes know him?"

  Vera's boot sloshed through a small puddle. "I don't know who he is. He has always lived in Thieves, and every time I've seen him, it's because he's come to Gesh."

  "Then how did you know where to find him?" I asked.

  "I didn't. I knew the name of his business and looked only for that. I also knew from Mercedes where the room to the shortcut was supposed to be. What I didn't know was that his business was full of charmers."

  "You mean the girls?" I asked for clarification.

  "Those weren't 'girls,' princess," Vera said. "They're charmers. Their magic can sway even the strongest of men."

  She smirked back between Alex and me before looking again at the trail. And when I glanced back, Alex did not look very happy.

  "So why does Mercedes trust a man who owns a glorified brothel?" I asked.

  Vera shrugged. "You'd have to ask her. She always has and no one questions her. No one ever questions her." She looked up at the trees.

  I wanted to know what Eris could have possibly offered Myez Rader that would tempt him to spurn a relationship he'd had with Mercedes for years. In order to face one's enemies, one needed to understand them. Where they came from. What they wanted. Their hopes, their desires. And then I had another thought—a much different sort of question I hoped one of them could answer. "What was a dragon doing down there in the dungeons? I thought they were extinct." I'd read about dragons, back in the castle library. According to history, they'd existed on Gaia long ago, but after the Great War during the time of Galahad, they had apparently died off.

  When I'd first come to this world, Alex had said gargons were dragons. This was both true and untrue. I realized more recently Alex had probably given me that simple answer so that I might be able to tie something recognizable to the term "gargon," because my readings informed me that gargons were only loosely related to dragons. Gargons were a distant breed, considerably smaller, and could be controlled with dark magic. There had even been speculation that gargons had been initially created by dark mages of old so that they might control something fearsome and powerful to frighten others into acquiescence.

  Real dragons, however, were much more complicated beings. Physical superiority aside, they also could not be controlled. I didn't know why, exactly, but from my readings, it had something to do with them being tied to Gaia's spirit. There wasn't a mage powerful enough to hold dominion over the spirit of a dragon.

  Neither Alex nor Vera answered me immediately.

  "I have no idea, princess," Vera said at last. "I was surprised to see one, too."

  "Do you think there could be more of them?" I asked.

  "I didn't think there were any until today," Alex replied this time, sounding a little worried. "You'll need to inform Stefan as soon as we stop. He needs to know about this."

  "I can't," I said. "The bindingbook burned to death in the fire. Unless we could send him a letter somehow…?"

  Alex was quiet. "Perhaps we can write to him from Mosaque?"

  Mosaque was the capitol of Gesh, and the question was meant for Vera, but Vera didn't answer.

  "And what about that little boy?" I asked. "Did either of you see him down there? I think he loosed the dragon."

  "That wasn't a little boy, princess. That was a creature from the Arborenne," Vera said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

  "What do you mean, creature?" I asked.

  "The Arborenne is home to many, uh, spirit-like creatures," Alex said. "They can take human form if they want, and usually choose to when wreaking havoc. It's their lure. Sort of like the water spirit you met at Lake Amadis a while ago."

  Oh, her. That was the day Alex had accused me of spying on him while he had been bathing in a lake. "Then what was he doing in a place like Thieves?"

  "What is anyone doing in Thieves?" Vera added.

  "Some spirits just like to cause mischief," Alex said.

  "I don't know," I said. "I think he was trying to help us."

  "Or have us killed," Vera offered. "He loosed a dragon. That's as good as a death wish."

  "But the dragon didn't attack us," I said. "It attacked them. But how would this…Arborenne boy know that, since dragons can't be controlled?" I glanced back at Alex.

  Alex glanced briefly at me, then back at the trail. "No idea."

  It wasn't long before we found ourselves at the base of a cliff that disappeared into thick fog. There
was a ramp right alongside the cliff. It was built of wooden beams, cantilevered to the side like a narrow shelf, leading up the face of the rock wall and disappearing into the fog. There was no rail—merely a platform of three two-by-fours, and someone had had the sense to bolt a thick rope to the rock wall about waist height. Definitely not a path for the faint of heart, or someone with a mild concussion.

  A warm breeze fluttered over my skin.

  "Feeling up to it?" Alex asked me.

  "She can always sleep down here with the sabres and pampas," Vera offered then started up the ramp.

  "Sabres and pampas?" I asked.

  Alex glared after her. "Indigenous carnivores."

  "Well, that's thoughtful of her," I said.

  "If it's too much," Alex continued, "we can search for something down here…"

  "I'll be fine," I said to Alex. "I'll be slow, but I can keep going." If that plant was any indication of Gesh's hospitality, I'd rather take my chances with that ramp.

  The ramp wasn't as precarious as it had appeared from the jungle floor. The wood was wet from rain and general humidity, but it was sturdy enough, and the rope along the wall was secure. Whoever had built this bridge (and I had no idea how they'd built it) had installed a good number of support beams beneath so that the ramp didn't wobble much while we ascended. Still, Alex kept right behind me, one hand gripping the rope and the other at my lower back with one of his fingers looped through my belt.

  It wasn't long before the ground below transformed into a great chasm filled with clouds, like steam rising from a cauldron. One wrong step and I would be falling to my death. I wasn't really afraid of heights. Flying on the vox had inadvertently cured me of that minor ailment, but this inability to see the world around me was a little disconcerting.

  And everything was so…wet. Water droplets clung to my clothes and face as we walked through the constant drizzle, and my hair stuck to my cheeks and forehead. I had to focus on my footsteps; the higher we walked, the slicker the wood, and gripping the rope was like gripping a wet noodle. But Vera marched steadily onward, her usual white-blonde hair soaked through and colored like straw.

  Thunder rumbled. It seemed to come from everywhere, echoing off the rock wall and through the deep canyon below. Soft whispers of rain descended upon the trees, and birds cried amidst the chorus of chirping insects. Aside from our deadly plank, the world was peaceful and sounded like a Naturescape—the kind I'd listen to while trying to study back home. Just when I was about to ask Vera how much farther, the ramp ended between two enormous boulders and dumped us onto a small plot of dark, damp earth. It protruded like a shelf from the rocky face of the cliff, and the narrow pathway continued on the other side. There was a single tree growing out of the wall at an angle, which provided a lush, green canopy of protection from the clouds and rain. The tent-sized resting point was completely surrounded by a fence of wooden posts and rope strung through metal loops, like garland.

  Now, why couldn't they have done that along the outside of the ramp?

  Vera dropped her pack on the ground, pushed the hair from her face, and wiped wet hands on her cloak. Our cloaks had changed back to their original appearance, though it was hard to tell now that they were drenched.

  We were so high up. Besides our tiny plot of earth, there was nothing. It was as though we were floating in the clouds on a platform, and the rock wall was our only sign we were still attached to the world. It reminded me of photos I'd seen in Backpacker magazine, back when I used to dream of trekking and adventuring and peril because my bucolic life in Fresno was no such thing. I'd see photos of climbers perched with their tents on the face of a sheer rock wall, wondering how on earth they'd climbed there, let alone turned that tiny lip of a ledge into camp for the night. But theirs was sport. Ours was survival. And there was a huge difference between the two.

  I didn't near the ledge. Instead, I leaned my back against the rock wall, slumped to the ground, and closed my eyes, listening to the rain. A hot and sticky breeze found me even up here, slipping through my hair as if reminding me it was there. And I was so, so tired. What I wouldn't give for a full night's rest.

  I couldn't see the sun, but it had to be low considering the darkening gray of the clouds. Vera had chosen a spot near the ledge. She dug through her pack, checked its contents, then pulled something out of it and started eating.

  Alex muttered something to Vera, then came and sat down beside me. He left a few inches of space between us, but when he leaned over to hand me a large piece of dried meat, his knee brushed against my leg. "Thanks," I said and washed it down with a gulp of water from my canteen. "Have you ever been to Gesh before?"

  He swallowed his own bite. "I came on business with my father once, but we ported on the western shore and only stayed for the night."

  "How old were you?"

  Water slopped around in his canteen as he took a swig. "Probably about twelve or thirteen."

  Which meant I had been about ten or eleven. I was struck by a sudden thought and turned my head to look at him. "That journal you gave me…it was from here."

  He didn't look at me as he fiddled with the lid of his canteen.

  He had given me a journal on my birthday—it had been my eleventh birthday. I remembered because it had been one of my favorite presents. When Alex would come back from "family vacation," I'd always looked forward to what he'd bring back. It wasn't that I expected him to bring anything back, he just always did. Now that I thought about it, all of those gifts were probably from this world, like that journal.

  I had loved that journal. The cover was stiff and composed of one large, green leaf. A web of veins had stretched through the leaf, and when it caught the light, tiny flecks of gold shone as though the leaf had been woven with hundreds of golden threads—the same leaf I'd seen on the jungle floor below.

  That's why I recognized it.

  It was the scent I'd loved so much. The cover smelled sweet, like honeysuckle and earth after a fresh rain, and the scent had never faded. Sometimes when it would storm outside, the scent would grow stronger, and when the seasons would change, the leaf would assume different hues of green. As though it had forgotten it was no longer attached to its plant.

  I had been telling Alex I wanted a journal. You know, when you're eleven you have so many grand ideas and secrets, like the dimensions of the treehouse you're going to build and how cute your ju-jitsu instructor's nephew is. I looked at the adult Alex's handsome profile.

  I'd been so clueless.

  You spent most of your life clueless, actually.

  Also true.

  "No wonder you made me hide your gifts from my dad," I said.

  He pushed back his forelock, and his long, dark eyelashes dropped near his cheeks as he looked down. "That probably wasn't the smartest thing I've ever done, but… in a way, giving you things from this world helped me feel like I was being honest."

  I put my hand on his arm. "Alex, you did what you had to do and I understand. I've already forgiven you."

  He was quiet. "I'm sorry he was there." Alex's voice was so soft I almost didn't hear it. He glanced back into my eyes, and the look in them was disarming.

  "Don't apologize for him," I said. "He isn't your responsibility." I paused. I remembered Thad and my chest tightened. "Thanks for stopping me."

  Alex clenched and unclenched his jaw, then slid his gaze from mine to stare at the middle-distance.

  I wanted to ask him what was wrong. Clearly, something was bothering him, and ever since Myez Rader had mentioned Lord Commodus's proposal of marriage to his son, Alex had pulled back and had been acting…distant. I would have liked to have talked to him about this—about the fact that he had known and hadn't said a word—but I didn't feel comfortable with Vera sitting right there. And as if anticipating further questions, he abruptly leaned away from me, grabbed my pack and set it between us as though he had intended to create some sort of physical barrier. He then grabbed his own pack, lay his head down on it an
d turned, looking at me in his periphery. "Try to get some sleep, all right?"

  I stared at him. He was ending our conversation just like that?

  He folded his arms behind his head, shut his eyes, and didn't speak another word.

  I glanced over at Vera, hoping she was asleep so that I could crawl over to Alex and make him explain what was going on with him, but her eyes were open.

  With a sigh, I leaned my head back against the wall. It was covered in drawings and writing in a language I didn't know. Other people had passed through here—slept here, perhaps, like we were about to. I trailed my fingers over one word in particular: Farren. A name, maybe?

  Vera adjusted her cloak beneath her head.

  "Vera, do many people come this way?" I whispered.

  She took so long to answer that I thought she'd fallen asleep. "Only hunters," she said at last.

  "How far is Mosaque from here?"

  "About six miles, and it should go quickly assuming the weather holds over the Shattered Plains."

  I didn't remember seeing anything like shattered plains on our map. "What are the Shattered Plains?"

  She adjusted her position once more, turning completely away from me. "We'll cross them in the morning, princess. Best pray to the spirits we aren't hunted."

  "By what?" I asked, but she didn't say another word.

  Chapter 8

  The Shattered Plains

  I had the dream again.

  The one where I stood in the heart of an endless desert, holding the small black box in my hands. Eris was there, too, just as he had been before, just as he had always been—smiling proudly at me as though he and I were together in this as equals. But this wasn't the dream that woke me. No, my dreams didn't end here with Eris, like they had so many times before, because this dream segued into something else entirely.

  Something even worse.

  The desert seamlessly transformed into a court full of pomp and wealth, where all the lords and ladies of the realm had gathered for a wedding. My wedding.

  My dress was not white. It was red, and when Stefan led me down the silvery isle, my crimson gown trailed behind like a pool of blood. Each step shook and I squeezed Stefan's arm so tightly I was certain I'd cut off his circulation. His face, however, did not show pain. His eyes were dulled but his face was full of purpose. He led me against his will—against my will. He led me as a lamb to the slaughter. A perfect sacrifice for the preservation of the realm.