by Jekka Jones
“Yes sir.”
Chapter 16
The sun beamed into Landon’s face, coaxing him awake. He tried to ignore it by burying his head in the blankets. The air was stuffy and hot, and his body was beginning to sweat. It didn’t help that his emotions broiled from content to shame and anger. Groaning, he forced his sleep-gritted eyes open and sat up. He blinked, gazing around the tent, and smiled at the person sitting by the door.
“Howsy, Dad,” he said. He stretched, gritting his teeth when his bruised muscles protested.
His father returned his greeting; his smile portrayed his relief that Landon was able to move. He sat on the log Myra had occupied the night before, turning the pouch containing the Wizard’s Seal in his hands.
“I’m sorry about the sword,” Landon commented, eyeing the pouch.
Diego shrugged his shoulders. “It was a shame to lose it, but I don’t blame you. Worse, there was a small part of me that wondered if this,” he hefted the pouch, “could be destroyed by dragonfire. No one in my family, even as far back as Thirien Keene’s children, had tried. Then again, all the dragons west of the Tareth River had been killed. There was no way for them to test that theory.”
Landon nodded. They sat in silence, staring at the small sack. “Is it reaching out to you?” Landon asked.
Diego nodded. “As always. Eager to be used.” He looked up at his son. “Myra said you used it to heal your bones.”
Landon shifted uncomfortably. The shame inside him intensified. “Took me four days and was exhausting every time, but that’s all I focused on. I’m happy to let my bruises and sore muscles heal on their own.”
Diego gave a soft chuckle. “Yes, I do remember less pain in my leg after I tried using it, but I chose the slow route. Myra said she had to force you to use the power, and it made you cold.” His gaze became troubled. “Did you feel cold when you used it against Sri’Lanca?”
Landon shook his head. “It was after I had beaten Sri’Lanca and he went crazy.” Seeing Diego’s confused look, he explained about his battle with the dragon, and Sri’Lanca’s reaction to defeat.
“Afterwards, Myra couldn’t breathe,” Landon continued. He felt desperate, trying to convince his father that he had no choice. “She’d inhaled so much of the dragon’s smoke that it was killing her, so I used the Seal to destroy the poison in her body. That was when I felt cold. Every time I touched the Seal, my heart,” he tapped his chest, “got cold and it spread when I was healing. I felt like my whole body was turning into ice.”
He paused, unsure if he should continue. Diego was scowling at the pouch in his hands. His face had grown darker with each word, and Landon felt more ashamed. His father had only touched the Seal once, and that was to heal a broken leg. Even when faced with the death of his son, Diego Dayn had refused to use the Wizard’s Seal, whereas Landon had used it several times in the past four days.
Landon watched him warily, guilt gnawing at his conscious. “I only used it when Myra was there,” he said, as if that would pardon his sin. “We kept it buried in a sack when I wasn’t using it.”
Diego looked up, startled by Landon’s tone. “I’m not blaming you, son,” he said gently. “You had no choice. I am concerned with this coldness you’ve described. I don’t remember it when—as a boy—I healed my leg.” He dropped his gaze back to the pouch. “I remember it draining my energy, but never to the point that I felt cold.” He frowned. “No. It never made me cold.”
Landon stared at him. “But . . . why did it make me feel cold?”
Diego shook his head. “I don’t know, and that worries me.” He looked around as though seeking something that was lost. “I want to look it up, or ask someone, but the only people who would have any ideas are dead—and our books were destroyed. Any books that may be helpful would be in a city’s or king’s archive.”
“I’m sure they’d let us in if it was to expand our knowledge of the Wizard’s Seal,” Landon joked, giving a forced laugh.
Diego chuckled too—and then harder when Landon’s stomach let out an immense groan. “Go get some food. We’re leaving as soon as everyone’s eaten, and Sam has looked over you and Myra.” He waved towards the tent door.
Landon stood and parted the canvas drapes. The smell of food attacked his nose, causing his stomach to twist with hunger. He spied Morgan sneaking two biscuits from the flat cooking stone in the fire.
“Oi! Take one, Morgan,” snapped Eli, snatching the biscuit from his hands. “Not everyone has had their first helping.”
“That was my first helping! That first batch was for Liliana! I was showing her what it’s like to have breakfast in bed!” Morgan whined. He and Eli dissolved into a heated argument. They attracted the attention of others, but rather than step in and take a side, they all chuckled and kept going about their business. Landon paid little attention to it; his eyes focused on the biscuits dripping with honey.
He walked to Morgan and Eli, ignoring the ache in his chest and legs. “Thanks for getting me a biscuit, mate,” he said, plopping himself between his father and best friend. He took the biscuit from Eli’s hand and bit into it. A happy whimper escaped him. Landon sat there, honey oozing over his fingers as his teeth sunk into the warm pastry, relishing the flavor.
“Are you gonna eat that or what?” asked Morgan, half-amused.
“Giff m’ a mo’,” Landon said around the pastry.
“Here’s another one for you, pup,” said Eli, picking up a second biscuit from the wooden plate nestled in the ashes. He spread honey over it. “Tea’s in the kettle. You can use my cup.”
“He’s still working on his first!” Morgan complained.
“Have you been running all night from a Seer? No. Make yourself useful and help Eddie and Jake with the blankets. Go on.” Eli gazed sternly at Morgan until the young man got to his feet and lumbered off, muttering through his teeth. Landon watched him join Mr. Giles, Mr. Higgins, and Myra at a smaller coal pit. Morgan’s father handed him two biscuits and another strip of meat, voicing his concern that Morgan wasn’t eating enough.
“So that’s where he gets it from,” Eli said quietly, his eyes narrowed on Mr. Giles. Landon snorted and got crumbs up his nose. He coughed and spluttered, drawing worried looks from Eli. Sam appeared by his side.
“You okay?” the doctor asked. Sierra and Alyssa came up from behind.
“’M fine,” Landon wheezed, and ate the rest of the biscuit. He took the second one from Eli, along with a strip of bacon that Alyssa shoved under his nose. Eli poured tea into a tin cup and set it in front of Landon.
He felt like he was putting on a show. Sam hovered over Landon, watching him eat but otherwise not touching him, while his mothers and Eli handed him food until he felt he would burst.
“Honestly, I’m fine,” said Landon when Myra asked if he wanted another biscuit. He began to feel sleepy, yet he knew they were about to leave soon. He sipped the tea, hoping it would help him stay awake. He had overheard Johnston asking Myra’s brothers for help with taking down the tarps. More and more supplies, bedrolls, and bags were being taken through the bushes to the horses. “Can I help with anything?” he asked Johnston as he passed.
The constable surveyed Landon. “Did Sam say you could?”
“Yes.” Landon lied, and was surprised to find that he had to forcefully say it. It didn’t sound as believable.
“No,” said Myra, rolling her eyes at Landon. “Sam told him to sit and eat.”
“Then sit and eat, Landon.” Johnston walked away.
Landon gave Myra a hurt face, and she snorted. “Don’t look at me like that. You still need Sam’s approval before you can go lifting boxes.”
“I can at least carry blankets,” he muttered. “I’m not helpless.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” said Sam. He stood outside of the infirmary tent and motioned to Landon. Grudgingly, Landon rose and went into the tent.
Sam proceeded to examine Landon thoroughly, having him strip to his un
derclothes so he could see the extent of his wounds. The bruises had faded to ugly yellow and green blotches, and the cuts from Sri’Lanca’s claws were angry scabs across his arms and back. Sam was pleased with how well the cuts were healing, but slathered medicine on a few and wrapped them in bandages.
“Not as bad as all the other times,” he said, pouring water over his hands and drying them on a towel, “and your bones appear whole. That Seal, although giving you a lot of trouble, did an adequate job.”
Landon detected a note of jealousy in the doctor’s voice. For a moment, he wished Sam could use the Seal and wondered if the doctor wished the same thing. Then again, half the battle with healing was preventing the Seal from corrupting his thoughts. Landon wouldn’t wish that on the doctor anymore than he would on Myra.
“I still want you to take it easy,” Sam continued. “Your back took a lot of damage, judging by the bruises, and we don’t want to strain the muscles. No lifting anything larger than a small sack of flour, do you understand?”
Landon nodded and left with a spring in his step. He looked around, searching for something to do, and spotted Juan gathering blankets. He seemed at ease with his new circumstances. He had discarded his Caborcan uniform for the simple brown and green clothing of Nircana. Juan smiled and greeted the others in a friendly manner. It was as if last night hadn’t happened at all, and he was on a short hunting trip with some friends, planning to go home any day with a prized boar. Then again, Landon spent most of his days pretending Angen’s tortures hadn’t happened either.
“He’ll be fine,” said Myra, watching him. “Give him time and he’ll be okay.”
“His father disowned and banished him, Myra,” Landon reminded her. “Would you be okay after that?”
Myra didn’t say anything, yet her silence was answer enough.
They didn’t leave until the sun was almost overhead. Landon’s body ached from helping load blankets and canvas coverings onto the horses, but he hid the discomfort. He eagerly climbed onto Oni’s back. Oni whickered and danced in place, ears perked and eyes bright with excitement.
“Yeah, it’s been a while, hasn’t it boy?” Landon said, patting Oni’s neck. “Will, do you have a strung bow and an arrow?”
Will gave a lopsided grin. “What do you need those for?”
“You know perfectly well what I need them for,” Landon retorted. Oni knew better than to throw Landon when he had hunting tools in hand.
Will handed over the required objects, and Landon could’ve sworn that some of the excitement from Oni disintegrated. There would be no throwing from this big red lump today.
They set off, pacing the horses to cover more ground. No one spoke, and Oni behaved himself—at least, he never tried to throw Landon. He did annoy the other horses as usual. At one point, he decided to pick on Thirien. The Hondel horse would have none of that, and the darker stallion bit Oni hard enough to draw blood on his neck. After that, Oni gave Thirien a wide berth. It was a struggle for all who witnessed the fight to not holler with laughter.
They stopped near a gully that had a spring gushing from its walls to rest and water the horses. Sam once again pulled Landon and Myra aside to check on their wounds and then ordered Landon to rest.
“I saw that flinch when I touched your back,” Sam stated firmly when Landon complained. “I would ask you if your back aches but I know you’ll just lie to me. Sit and rest, Landon.”
Grumbling, Landon sat next to his friends. His back was aching, and he wanted nothing more than to lie down and sleep. He ignored the desire, however. If he so much as closed his eyes, Sam would insist he ride in a litter.
Juan—to Landon’s joy—sat beside Myra. He looked at Landon’s face and snorted into his bread.
Landon gave him a steely gaze. “Is there a problem?”
“I’ve never seen anyone so angry after a doctor’s inspection.”
“I’m just tired of being doctored all the time,” Landon retorted. “I have sore muscles, that’s it. I’m not broken all over the place. Look, he’s even watching me.”
Sam was gazing at Landon, his professional eye taking in the way his patient lounged against a log. Landon had shifted the log around until the inclination gave his back muscles some respite.
“Better than having a sweaty samurai watching you eat,” Morgan replied, chewing on some jerky. “Thanks again for saving me, my starlight angel!”
Liliana paused in her chewing to stare at him. “A what?”
“An angel. A heavenly being that is too beautiful to behold and brings good will and joy to a wandering soul like meself.” Morgan cocked his head. “Don’t you have angels in your religion?”
“Nothing like the description that matches yours—well, in a way, the dragons are our angels.”
“Dragon angels,” mused Morgan. “How does that work?”
“We—that is, the Dagnorians—believe all dragons are descendants from the first dragon, Balaam,” said Liliana. “He is the dragon god. As children of Balaam, it is the dragons’ charge to watch over man and teach them right from wrong. When men follow the commandments of Balaam, then they will be exalted in His skies with their dragon brethren. Dragon taming is a means for man and dragon to draw closer to Balaam.”
“Or lady,” Morgan interrupted. “You are a lady after all, or else I wouldn’t be courting you.”
Liliana’s cheeks turned as red as her hair, and she turned to Myra. “Are the men of Nircana always this forward?”
“Just Morgan, Liliana, just Morgan.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Morgan, affronted.
“That you’re weird,” Landon answered, giving Liliana a wink. Her cheeks turned to a less vibrant shade of red. Morgan scowled and Juan shook his head.
“Face it, Morgan,” said Juan, “you are an oddball.”
“Nope. I’m just a misunderstood white sheep among a bunch of black goats,” Morgan replied and heaved a dramatic sigh.
“You Nircanians are so strange,” said Liliana.
“It works great against nobles,” said Myra. “Where’s Ti . . . Ti—er, your dragon?”
“Ti’Luthin? He’s scouting.” Liliana answered. “As far as the Dragon Guard knows, we have not deserted. I thought they would try to incriminate me, as they have been doing for the past two years, but they’ve been grateful for my help.”
“How so?” asked Landon.
“Dagnor’s forces are spread too thin. Dre’Goran is fighting three fronts at once. He’s trying to recapture Nircana, prevent Sri’Lanca from killing you, and fight off the samurai and their allies. When he promised me a promotion if I was able to capture you, I was ecstatic. But now, I know he was desperate for any help, even from a woman. Ti’Luthin was right. I’m sure he had no intention of keeping his promise,” she added bitterly.
“What did Dre’Goran think about Ti’Luthin brawling in the Tsuregan camp?” Juan asked. He tried to sound carefree, but Landon could hear the forced pleasantness in his voice. He was trying to act normal. A sudden pang of guilt shot through Landon, mingling with the everpresent shame and anger that he had been feeling.
“Ti’Luthin and I told him we saw Sri’Lanca attacking the camp, and interfered in hopes of apprehending him. We explained that we would have been happy to let Sri’Lanca destroy the samurai if it were not for the Dayns imprisoned there. Dre’Goran commended us for our quick thinking under pressure.” She frowned. “I think that was the first compliment I’ve ever received from him.”
“Despicable,” grunted Eli. “A pretty lass like you deserves compliments that are unrelated to warfare.”
“What do you think I have been doing this whole time?” said Morgan, spreading his hands. “My Lily of the Dragons thinks I’m teasing her, but I’m dead serious.”
“I appreciate the effort, Morgan. I really do.” Liliana replied with a sidelong look at Morgan. He pouted, and she patted his cheek. “Hand me the canteens and I’ll refill them. Landon, will you help me?”
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br /> “Gladly!” said Landon, jumping to his feet.
Morgan glowered. “Why does the cripple get to help you and I don’t?”
“I’m not a cripple!” Landon snapped, reaching for Morgan’s water skin. Morgan put it behind his back. “Come off it, Morgan!”
“I can help too!”
“Morgan,” said Liliana with the patience of a mother to a toddler, “you were whining the whole way that you wanted nothing more to relax for an hour, whereas Landon wants to help more. I just thought I would do you and Landon a favor. You do want to relax, right?” Liliana tilted her head just a fraction, a smile playing on her lips. It was girlish and innocent. Landon knew Morgan’s heart had doubled in speed.
“Yeah, I agree,” Morgan blurted. “You take Landon for a walk and I’ll drill Myra for date ideas.” He threw an arm around Myra.
Myra looked at the arm around her shoulder and plucked it away. “I think you’ll be fine on your own.”
“Come on, Myra! From an engaged woman to a bachelor seeking love, give me some of your feminine wisdom!”
“Let’s go,” said Landon, gathering up the canteens. There was a lot needing to be refilled, and they each had three canteens dangling from their shoulders. They made their way to the spring, which was several yards away and somewhat secluded.
“Why Morgan would want to sit around is beyond me, especially on a beautiful day like this.” said Landon, dumping his canteens near the spring. “I’m getting sick of being coddled.” He found a dry spot to sit on and picked up a canteen.
“You fought a dragon, Landon, what do you expect?” Liliana commented. “Why do you think dragon taming is a rite of passage? It takes a lot of courage to approach and challenge them to a contest. Most boys wander the forests and mountains for a month and don’t even bother to find a dragon.” She began to fill up one canteen.
Her words took him by surprise. He hadn’t been expecting a comment about dragons. And then what she said hit him. “Wait, are you saying that some boys don’t even try to tame a dragon? Are they—er, afraid of getting eaten?”