“Yes, she was taller.” Ithsar’s tone was flat.
“Ah.” He swallowed, obviously doing mental contortions to figure out that she’d disposed of Ashewar.
Well, let him think that—her or the shark—it was all the same.
“Ah, so now you’re the chief prophetess? Why are you riding a shadow dragon?” He gestured at Saritha, who was sitting on the grass with her forelegs tucked underneath her and her snout low, while the green dragon prowled around her, a low rumble escaping its throat.
“Don’t worry, Ithsar, if things turn bad I can get us out of here.” Saritha wrinkled her nose. “I can still scent the egg shards on this young, freshly-hatched dragonling. He doesn’t have much experience and neither does his rider.”
Ithsar believed her. The green was only half Saritha’s size.
“Since when do Robandi have shadow dragons?” the boy asked.
“She’s hardly a shadow dragon. From what I’ve heard, they’re black.”
“Then why are you attacking Naobia?” He flicked his sword toward the ocean. “And where are the rest of your tribe?”
This rider asked more questions than a littling. “Are you hard of hearing?” Ithsar snapped. It had been a long trip—a whole day and night of swimming. Her patience was wearing thin. “I told you, we’re here in peace.”
“Why should I believe you? You’re pretty short and young for a chief prophetess. And I think—”
Ithsar spun, flinging out her foot, and kicked him in the chest.
Unprepared, he crashed to the ground, dropping his sword and her collection of blades.
She snatched up her favorite dagger and leaped onto his chest, pinning him with her legs, her blade at his neck. “Good. Now, we can talk. But I’ll ask the questions. How long have you been in the green guards?”
“Two moons.” His eyes blazed with indignation.
Only half a moon longer than she’d been Chief Prophetess. “You’ve attacked Saritha, queen of the sea dragons, and her rider Ithsar, the new chief prophetess of the Robandi assassins. What do you think the leader of the green guards would say about you starting a war with two mighty races?”
His eyes widened, but he said nothing, lying there unmoving. Aware it could be a ruse, Ithsar kept her body taut, ready for action. “Speak.”
“Sea dragon? But they only leave the ocean in times of dire need.”
Ithsar had never heard that. “Saritha, is that true?” Saritha’s nod of assent was enough. Ithsar continued, “We are in dire need. Ezaara, the Queen’s Rider of Dragons’ Realm, sent me a messenger bird. She needs our help and the help of the Naobian green guards.” She snorted, pressing the dagger a little more firmly against his neck so he would feel it scratch.
His eyes flew open. “Ezaara asked you? So you’ve heard of the shadow dragons plaguing the realm?”
Ithsar flashed her teeth in a fierce grin “Yes, and I came here to talk with the Naobian green guards, so we can fight the shadow dragons and prevent Dragons’ Realm from becoming a wasteland. Somehow, I’d imagined having this conversation under different circumstances. I suggest you take me to your leader.”
“I p-promise not to attack if you l-let me up,” he stammered.
Roars split the sky. A wing of green dragons dived toward them, spurting fire.
The boy smirked. “I’d like to see you get out of this.”
Standing, he’d be too tall for her blade to even reach his throat. Ithsar slipped off him, her knife still at his neck, and crouched next to his prone body. “Get up.” Keeping her blade in position, she grabbed his arm as he clambered to his feet. Then she yanked it behind his back, and pressed her dagger between his shoulder blades.
Saritha rumbled, “Now we’re in trouble.”
Roars rang out from the hilltop. Misha and Ramisha were streaking toward them, talons out and flames blazing. Trailing in their wake were all the sea dragons.
Anger surged through Ithsar. “This is exactly what me and my wise queen were trying to avoid,” she barked. “Your foolhardy actions could cause the destruction of both our people and prevent us from helping Dragons’ Realm.”
The boy licked his lips, eyes darting between the two wings of dragons. “I can ask my dragon to call the green guards off. But if they see you with your blade at my throat, they won’t believe me.” He shrugged. “It’s up to you. It wouldn’t be my first battle.”
“If one of my people or dragons are harmed, it will be your last,” Ithsar snapped.
If she let him free, she had no bargaining power. He could snatch up a weapon and attack her again. Or he could tell those fiery beasts to engage in battle.
The two wings of dragons were nearing each other. In a few heartbeats, their flames would meet.
Saritha sat up, now holding her head high. Talons still tucked beneath her, she nodded at Ithsar. The vision of those evil shadow dragons attacking the northern lands shot through Ithsar’s head, and she knew what she had to do. She had vowed to rule in love and kindness, not in terror. She had to act upon her convictions.
“Very well.” Ithsar drew away her blade and stepped aside.
§
Snarls filled the air, and hundreds of wings rustled, creating a breeze that stirred the leaves on the trees.
As Ithsar removed the steel from the boy’s back, she put steel into her voice. “One false move, and this dagger will be embedded between your ribs, my friend.” He stiffened. She continued, “However, I’d like the opportunity to be your friend and work together to free Dragons’ Realm.”
The young man turned his head to look her in the eye and thumped his heart. “My name is Stefan and my dragon is Fangora. We will fight for Dragons’ Realm.” He put his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle.
As his dragon backed away from Saritha, Stefan called out, “Fangora, did you summon the other green guards?”
Ithsar had never imagined a dragon looking sheepish, but this one managed.
“Now look what you’ve done! Call them off.” Stefan turned to her, face stricken. “I’m sorry. He’s young and impatient and didn’t know better.”
Rather like his rider.
“Fangora says he tried to stop them, but none of them are listening,” Stefan cried.
Ithsar snatched up her blades, tucking them into their sheathes as Saritha sprang over. She leaped upon Saritha’s back, and her dragon launched herself into the air as Stefan and Fangora took flight.
Flame crackled overhead. Saritha and Fangora surged up into the air between the two wings of dragons. Fangora and Stefan sped off toward flaming green guards, and Saritha and Ithsar wheeled to face the fire of the sea dragons.
Ithsar cringed at the heat. “Saritha, tell them to stop.”
“I’m trying, but they’re all fired up.”
Ithsar waved her arms in the Robandi gesture for ceasefire.
Nila waved back, acknowledging her. Instantly, the flame from the sea dragons’ maws guttered and died.
“I’ve mind-melded and told them to land,” Saritha said.
Stefan somehow got through to the green guards, who stopped roaring and blasting flame.
“Thank the dracha gods, they listened.” Ithsar’s breath whooshed out of her. “I can’t believe you were joking at a time like that. ‘Fired up’ indeed.”
Saritha chuckled. “Well, they were spurting flame and being rather hotheaded.”
The sea dragons spiraled down to land on the eastern side of the meadow, closest to the cliffs where they’d been hiding. The green guards landed on the other side, nearest the orchard and the city, gouging the ground with their talons. A green dragon’s tail lashed a tree, sending fruit flying. That same pungent, sweet aroma filled the air, making Ithsar’s belly rumble.
Saritha and Fangora landed side by side between the two wings of dragons. Stefan slid from his saddle and faced the green guards. A tall, seasoned rider with broad shoulders and a face as worn as the Robandi sandstone cliffs dismounted and stalked
toward them.
“My fellow green guards and esteemed leader, Goren, please allow me to present Ithsar, the chief prophetess of the Robandi assassins,” Stefan said. “She rides Saritha, queen of the sea dragons, and has an important message for us.”
“So you’re the new chief prophetess.” Goren curled his lip, glancing down his nose at her. “I’d expected something… Well, more.”
Such rudeness. Aware of her unimpressive height, Ithsar stayed upon Saritha’s back. A well-aimed kick in the chest would knock that arrogant man onto his backside in the grass, but Ithsar refrained, looking him up and down. “Oh, so you’re the leader of the green guards,” she said graciously, refusing to be drawn into a contest of bared teeth and flexed muscles. She had to work with this arrogant man to help Ezaara, not get into a slanging match. So, although her hackles were raised, she smiled sweetly, only baring her teeth a little.
Goren crossed his arms and angled his head, brows furrowed. He gave a weary sigh. “Pleased to meet you.” He sounded anything but pleased. “And your message…?”
“Ezaara, the Queen’s Rider of Dragons’ Realm, is gathering an army to fight Commander Zens,” said Ithsar. “I’ve seen a vision of a terrible war against his shadow dragons and tharuks, a war that could destroy your people, your dragons, and the very land you live on. All will be lost unless we ride to aid Ezaara.”
Goren’s frown deepened. “Who’s paying you to fight?” he sneered.
“No one,” Ithsar snapped. “We’re fighting for the good of the realm, and because Ezaara’s my friend.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Your friend?”
“Yes.” Ithsar met his steely gaze with one of her own. “My closest friend.”
He shrugged. “I received a message from Ezaara two days ago. Our troops will be flying north tonight. Ezaara was here only a week and a half ago on her hand-fasting holiday. Rumors from the North do not bode well.” He narrowed his eyes. “How much do you know?”
“Not enough. However, we will share what we do know.” Saritha lowered her head and Ithsar beckoned Goren to lay his hand upon her dragon’s forehead.
Goren stalked over and placed his hand upon the queen’s emerald scales. As Saritha shared Ithsar’s vision with him, his frown deepened.
When the queen was finished, he swept a hand at the meadow. “You must be tired. Please rest here for the day. You may roam our beautiful city of Naobia as you please.” He gave a disparaging glance at their makeshift saddlebags. “We’ll provide you with supplies, comfortable saddles, and decent saddlebags. This evening, we’ll depart.”
“Thank you, that’s kind of you.” Ithsar inclined her head politely.
“Nothing kind about it,” Goren grunted. “If we’re going to fight together, it makes good battle sense to fortify your dragons and warriors. If you’d like, our dragons can show yours good hunting grounds for goats and deer.”
Saritha wrinkled her nose. “Not more goats.”
Ithsar smiled. Someone had to, and she doubted Goren knew how. “Thanks again, but while we’re by the coast, our sea dragons can fish.”
“Of course.” Goren gave a terse nod, stalked to his dragon, and swung into a finely-crafted saddle Ithsar couldn’t help but envy. He pointed at Stefan. “Since you started this mess, I’ll leave you to organize the supplies and saddles for our guests.”
Within moments, the green guards’ wings were stirring Ithsar’s robes as they departed and flew back to the city.
Green Guards
The sea dragons were sprawled in the meadow, having a well-deserved rest, their riders leaning against their sides or curled up under their wings, dozing.
Stefan and Ithsar walked through the orchard, discussing what supplies Ithsar’s clan would need for their journey. When they were done, Stefan reached up and plucked an enormous piece of fruit from the tree. “Would you like a peach?” he asked. “I don’t know if you have them in the Robandi desert.”
“This is a peach?” She inhaled the aroma. “It smells different to the dried peaches my mother got from the merchant caravans.” No need to mention Ashewar’s assassins had slaughtered those very merchants in order to get supplies. She ran her fingertips over the skin. “I didn’t know they were fuzzy on the outside.” She bit into the peach. Juice ran down her chin. “Oh, this is good.” She groaned and took another bite.
“They’re delicious, aren’t they?” Stefan plucked a few more and sat against a tree trunk. He patted the ground beside him, chewing his own peach. As soon as she was sitting, he handed her more peaches. “Save some for Saritha. Dragons like them too.”
Raising an eyebrow, Ithsar replied, “I’m not sharing. These are far too good. Saritha will have to pick her own.”
The queen of the sea dragons opened an eyelid and snorted. “I heard that.” Ithsar threw a peach and Saritha snapped it down. “Not bad, but I still prefer fish.”
Stefan grinned. “So, what’s it like to live in all that endless orange sand?”
Ithsar took another bite and shrugged. “Normal. Dry. Hot. This…” She motioned to the greenery, the trees laden with peaches, the distant mountains. “Um, this is beautiful.” She took another bite. “I had no idea peaches were so juicy.”
He chuckled. “It’d be hard to tell if you’ve only ever had them dried. I’ll bet there are many things you haven’t tried yet. Why don’t I show you and a few of your friends around the markets?” He gazed at the sun. “We should have time. I’ll organize the supplies first, and then come back and get you. We can walk. It’s not far from here.”
From attacking her to hosting her—Stefan certainly was full of surprises—but Ithsar liked his easy, open manner. It was refreshing after growing up under the shadow of Ashewar and Izoldia. She smiled. “I look forward to it.”
§
Stefan led Ithsar, Misha, and Nila through the winding alleys of Naobia, the briny tang of sea air wafting through the streets. Ithsar had left Thika back in the orchard with her sisters, but missed his comforting weight on her shoulder. The stone houses were so close, towering three or four stories above them. The streets were narrow and winding, and there was no soft desert sand to mask their footfalls, which echoed loudly off the stone walls like a thousand horses pounding on cobbles.
Ithsar flinched at the rumble of wagon wheels. “Where are you taking us?” Her hand drifted to her hilt, her eyes scanning the mouths of the narrow alleys and lanes that riddled the city.
“To the markets.” Stefan grinned as he pressed through the people meandering along the street. “I have some coin. I still feel bad about nearly causing a fight this morning, so I’d like to treat you and your friends.”
Nila grinned back, right at home on these narrow, cobbled roads. “Sounds good to me. The more treats, the better.” Her dark eyes sparkled in a way Ithsar had seldom seen under Ashewar’s rule.
All of them had more space to breathe, to be themselves now—except in this crowded, busy city.
Ithsar sighed. She’d take the wide open spaces of the desert any day. Or maybe one of those pretty meadows, or a house on a hilltop overlooking the fields and sea.
Misha shrugged, her eyes also flitting to the alleys. “Sounds good.” Her voice was overly bright, forced.
A man bustled past with a barrow laden with strange vegetables of yellow, orange, red, green, and even deep purple hues. Another wagon rattled along the alley, carrying beautiful bolts of cloth with a lovely sheen—depicting dragons, brightly colored coral, and floral patterns. A tantalizing aroma wafted through the air.
“Oh, that smells good. What is it?” Nila asked eagerly.
“Crum’s bakery,” Stefan answered. “One of the best. But we’re not going there today. I have something better in mind.”
“Better than that?” Nila laughed, shaking her dark curls. “I can’t wait.” They rounded a corner, Nila still laughing, and walked into a piazza.
Ithsar stopped dead in her tracks. Before them was a beautiful fountain—a tangle of
sea dragons, glittering in the sun, sparkling water spraying from their maws. Sunshine played across the crystal, making rainbows dance across the scales etched into the dragons’ backs. Ithsar approached, running her hand along the smooth tail of a baby sea dragon. Water droplets sprayed her fingers. “This is beautiful. Is it made of glass?”
“That’s opaline crystal, from Crystal Lake, two hour’s dragon flight north of here,” Stefan answered. “Opaline’s only found in Naobia. Some say it comes from an extinct volcano that spewed the crystals into the lake, years ago. There’s thousands of them up there.”
“Sounds beautiful.”
“It is.” Stefan shrugged. “It’s a shame I don’t have enough time to take you there. Maybe another time.”
Maybe. If they made it back from this war. With a lingering glance at the sea dragon fountain, Ithsar left the piazza and followed Stefan, Misha, and Nila through the hustle and bustle of crowded alleys until they came to a square surrounded by four-story stone buildings with colorful flags and cascading flowers hanging from balconies.
A wave of sights, smells, and sounds crashed into Ithsar’s senses. For a moment, she reeled, steadying herself on Misha’s arm. The cobbles were filled with people manning stalls, touting their wares. Chickens squawked and vendors shouted. Littlings chased each other, dodging people, laughing and crying out. Voices rose in a babble that would drown out the bray of the loudest camel. And every available space was crammed with people. So many people.
Stefan led them through crowds wearing brightly-colored clothes in all manner of styles, past an old crone selling fragrant herbs, a merchant with fine leather boots, and a jewelry stand.
Ithsar grasped Stefan’s arm. “Wait, what are these?” She pointed at earrings shaped like beetles.
“Jewel beetles,” he replied. “They live in caves out in the hills. When they die, people collect their shells to make necklaces. Look.” He pointed at beetles strung on fine silver chains. Their amber, jade, and turquoise shells were lined with tiny silver and gold veins that winked in the sun. “Would you like one?” Stefan pulled some coin from his pocket and started counting.
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