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Morning came all too soon. Nessa groaned and rolled onto her back, the sunlight turning her eyelids red. The hour was still fairly early, but the sky was a bright blue with tinges of violet. Nessa sat up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and found herself completely alone. Hunter was nowhere in sight and neither was the dragon.
Hunter’s sleeping bag was neatly rolled up and his boots were gone, so he must have wandered off somewhere a little while ago, but the dragon…
Nessa stood and spun around, searching for a sparkle of purple in the long grass. “Dragon?” she called. “Where are you?” She circled the tree, hoping that it was hiding on the other side. It wasn’t. She looked up at the branches over head, wondering if it had perhaps flown up there, but all she could see was a pair of dozing pigeons.
Nessa cupped her hands around her mouth. “DRAGON?” she shouted, as if she actually expected to receive an answer. Her voice carried over the hills, but no little purple dragon appeared.
“DRAGON?”
Nothing.
“Bollocks,” Nessa muttered, turning in a circle. Where could it have wondered off to? I really should have given it a name.
She paused, her mind coming up with all kinds of scenarios that the little creature could have got itself into. She didn’t like a single one of them. “Slayer?” she called hesitantly, trying out Hunter’s name suggestions on a hopeful whim, “Destroyer?”
Nessa shook her head. “No, no. This is insanity. A stupid idea. It’s more likely to respond to ‘Dragon’ than those.” In any event, Nessa gave up calling for the dragon and instead tried to find Hunter, thinking that maybe it had followed him wherever he had gone.
On the second call of his name, Hunter appeared out from behind a tangle of bushes and brambles, hopping on one foot whilst trying to put on a boot. “What’s wrong?”
Nessa grinned at the sight and moved closer. “I can’t find the dragon. Is it with you?”
Hunter shook his head. “It was still asleep when I left to freshen up and get changed. That was not too long ago. It couldn’t have got―”
A shrill shriek pierced the air not too far from them, the sound of an animal in distress. Nessa’s heart jumped and without thinking, she ran towards the source, only for it to stop suddenly. Nessa found herself running blind for a brief moment, then she came upon a scene that made her stop dead.
“Ha,” Hunter said, coming up behind her. “I’ve come up with another name for it. Bunnybiter.”
Nessa found herself speechless.
“At least you don’t have to worry about it going hungry anymore.”
In a circle of freshly flattened grass, was the dragon and a body of an unfortunate rabbit. Blood and bits of fur covered the dragon’s snout, and Nessa turned away as it bit into the rabbit’s soft belly.
“I really could have gone without seeing that this early in the morning. Or, come to think of it, ever.”
Hunter clapped her on the back. “You’re a delicate soul, Nessa. And I’ll leave you to it. I’m going to check the snares again, although I bet the dragon’s scared off the wildlife with its little display of its hunting abilities.”
Nessa made a sound of acknowledgement, and Hunter moved away, whistling a cheery tune as he disappeared over the hill with only one boot on, the other slung over his shoulder. She looked at the dragon, wondering if it had finished, and gagged.
Okay, rabbits have a lot more innards than I had thought.
There was a crunch of bone. Nessa grimaced and walked to a safe distance away where she didn’t have to hear what was happening. Long minutes passed, then the grass parted and the little dragon sauntered over to her, rubbing its side against her ankle in greeting.
“All done?” she asked.
Another rub against her ankle.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” She gathered the dragon hatchling up in her arms and headed back to the campsite.
Nessa set the dragon down on her sleeping bag, where it proceeded to clean itself, tongue rasping over scales, and went over to the tree. Her clothing hung dry on one of the branches, and when she pulled them off, they retained their draped shape, stiff from the marsh’s waters. They didn’t smell all that fresh either. Nessa folded them up and packed them away, as they would be unwearable until they had been washed, and decided that she would have to wear the dress during today’s march.
She had just finished rolling up her sleeping bag when Hunter returned with his catch of two small rabbits.
“Behold,” he cried, dumping them on the ground, “the mighty hunter returns with his prize.”
Nessa looked down at the poor creatures, and noticed that the dragon had paused in cleaning itself, staring intently at the rabbits. Hunter, too, saw this and quickly swiped them up, holding them out of the dragon’s reach. For a second the dragon looked half tempted to try and retrieve them, eyes locked and tail twitching. It quickly lost interest, though, and went back to cleaning its gleaming scales.
“If it eats these rabbits, I’ll kill it,” Hunter informed her.
“No, you won’t,” Nessa said. “But I’ll be sure to pass on your threat since it has such a clear understanding of the human language.”
“Very funny, you little short-ass.”
“I thought so. And I’ll have you know that I’m not short. I’m of a perfectly average height.”
Hunter quirked a brow and ran his eyes over her. It didn’t take him long. “You’re short.”
“Maybe you’re just abnormally tall. Ever think of that?”
“No, I haven’t. Thank you for opening my eyes to my height. I will be more careful when it comes to low door frames from now on.”
“You’re welcome.”
Hunter’s lips twitched as he gazed over at the smoking forest. “Are you eager to have something for breakfast or can we make a move?”
Nessa gave it some thought. She wouldn’t mind having something to nibble, but she could go a few hours before she got too hungry. And anyway, Hunter seemed filled with nervous energy, eager to head off. “I suppose I’m alright for the time being,” she said. “Although a nice lunch will be greatly appreciated.”
“Excellent.” Hunter rubbed his hands together. “I want to find some decent shelter before the storm rolls in. It feels like a big one.”
Nessa paused in her task of packing up camp, taking a moment to look up at the sky in amusement. Other than a few wispy clouds, which looked more like sad pieces of cotton wool than a mighty storm cloud, there was nothing but bright blue sky and the distant haze of the forest’s smoke.
“Okay then,” Nessa muttered.
A few minutes later their camp was cleared, the fire was extinguished, and the two of them, plus a very sleepy dragon hatchling, were making their way through the grassland, heading towards the forest.
The line of pine trees loomed before them, each as straight as a pin and packed closely together. As Nessa stepped into the forest, the ground beneath her feet changed, becoming soft and sticky. She looked down, finding that the earth was black and that heavy clumps were sticking to her boots, weighing them down. Nessa’s lips curled in disgust. For a while, she plodded behind Hunter, trying, with some degree of success, to kick off the tacky mud. This, thankfully, became less of a problem the further they travelled into the forest, as the black earth became covered in a thick carpet of stodgy moss and brown needles.
A breeze gradually grew throughout the hour, making the trees around them whisper and sigh, but still, the sky remained blue. Much to her regret, Nessa found herself getting hungry faster than she had first thought. To take her mind off her growling stomach, she began thinking about the story Hunter had told her yesterday, and a few things piqued her curiosity.
“Hunter,” Nessa enquired, “when you were telling me about the Dragon Riders, you mentioned something about them now being a twisted image of what they were...”
Hunter made a communicative noise.
“...what happened?�
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Hunter frowned. “Well,” he said slowly, “what I was told— and am starting to wish I had paid more attention to when I was being told it— was that what happened to the Riders was connected to one key event.” He looked at her, then at her bag, which rested full against her hip.
“Dragons are creatures of magic,” Hunter began, “and through the bond, their Riders become something else. They change, becoming stronger, immensely stronger, and able to access magic, something only an Old Blood or a small number of their lingering descendants can do.
“They have every advantage. And back in the day, very few creatures would be able to best a dragon, and nothing could take on a group of Dragon Riders and survive, not even an army. Or so they thought for a time.”
Hunter looked at her over his shoulder. “As I mentioned yesterday, they took it upon themselves to govern the land, which at the time was only one kingdom. This proved problematic, though, and things unseen and terrible slipped through their grasp. So they split the kingdom, dividing it into twelve smaller ones.”
“The Twelve Kingdoms,” Nessa murmured absently.
“The Twelve Kingdoms,” Hunter agreed. “One kingdom for each of the Twelve Houses to rule over. Twelve Kingdoms for the twelve Dragon Riders to protect.
“But as it is, all good times must come to an end.
“An army came from the west, shrouded in an eerie mist, invading our lands, lining our coastline with their black ships and filling the fields and rivers with blood.”
“You seem to have a problem with people coming from the west,” Nessa mused.
Hunter snorted, and then continued. “Battle by battle, the Dragon Riders began losing the war. Our army was nearly decimated, famine was rife, and things looked bloody bleak. But then, without reason, the invaders and their strange mist left. Just like that. When they were so close to winning the war, they just packed up and went, never to be seen again.”
Nessa frowned. “One would have to question their motives for coming in the first place, then.”
Hunter ignored her. “After the war, the Twelve Houses and the Dragon Riders were mere shadows of themselves, and the land was plunged into a crippling darkness. Out of that darkness emerged something far worse than anything they had ever faced before. A new Rider came forth, taking the lands for himself, ruling over them with an iron fist and his black heart for near five hundred years. Any Dragon Rider who refused to join him, or showed any weakness, was crushed, as was anyone who tried to stand against him.
“There are fields up in the north, where the first uprising tried to take root, that overflow with the bones of a town that King Kaenar had slaughtered in retribution. The Bone Fields are what they are known by these days, the name of the town long forgotten.”
Nessa felt sick to her stomach at the thought. “Can’t someone at least bury them? Give those poor people some dignity and honour instead of leaving them like that, just lying around?”
Hunter shook his head. “People have tried in the past, but the Bone Fields… They’re a cursed place. None who dare venture there ever return. I’ve heard whispers that tell of ghostly creatures that skulk in the ruins.” Hunter sighed. “Anyway, that was hundreds of years ago. Those poor souls are long past caring.”
“It’s a sad thought, though, to think of those people there, nothing but bone, abandoned by the world, their names forgotten.”
“It’s a terrible thought,” Hunter agreed. “But it’s the reality we have to face. The Dragon Riders we have today are made in his image, the king’s: powerful, cruel, and without a heart. There was no one who could help those who call the Bone Fields their forever home, just as there’s no one to stop something like that from ever happening again.”
“That’s bleak.” It really was. Any questions Nessa might have had faded to the back of her mind, where they would stay. God, she would be glad when she got back home, far away from mad murderous kings and Dragon Riders. Where there was running hot water and comfy beds, and the worst hazard she had to face was boredom. Well, she’d be glad for the most part. Nessa’s hand rested on her bag, on the dragon hatchling inside, and her eyes lingered on Hunter with a touch of wistfulness.
“Anyway,” Hunter said, “I’ve made some progress with dragon names.”
Relieved at the change of subject, Nessa smiled. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, and they’re way better than the ones I came up with yesterday.”
“I’m glad.”
Hunter’s eyes were merry.
When no names were forthcoming, Nessa was forced to ask, “Are you going to tell me them, then?”
“Maybe later,” Hunter said after a second of thought. “I reckon they’ll be best told around a fire this evening.”
“Oh dear.”
“The anticipation can build during the day.”
“Oh God.”
Hunter laughed. “You’ll love these ones, I promise.”
“Promise me that you’ll actually give me a couple of serious names, at least?”
“Sure,” he said, “if that’s what you want. Although, saying that, we don’t even know if it’s male or female. If we knew that, it would make it easier to name.”
Nessa thought back to the small yet razor sharp claws, and the needle-like fangs that she had seen in action that morning. “Well, since you have more knowledge of dragons than I do, I’ll leave that job to you.”
Hunter held up his hands, displaying scabbed over scratches. “Dragon doesn’t seem to like me very much.”
“I suppose it will remain a mystery for the time being then.”
“Or until we find some claw-proof gloves.”
Nessa opened her mouth, about to comment, when a cold wind blew through the trees, carrying a chill and the smell of smoke. She wrapped her arms around herself as it strengthened, making the treetops bend and sway.
“Is that smoke?” Nessa asked. “Why does the forest smell of smoke? If we’re heading towards a forest fire, I will be most unimpressed.”
“We’re not going towards any forest fire,” Hunter chuckled. “This is the Burning Forest. Smelling smoke is the usual state of things here.”
“And why is that?”
“Well, the Fire Lizard, a common species in this region, has the ability to breathe fire.”
“There are lizards that can breathe fire?”
“Well, it’s more like a spark. But it’s enough to set fire to shrubbery and the peat reserves underground, which have a tendency to smoulder for a while. Hence the smoke.”
“Huh,” Nessa murmured. “Fascinating.” Fire breathing lizards. Who would have thought it? Her eyes ran over the ground, hoping to catch a glimpse of these intriguing creatures, but they were playing coy. While she could hear things moving around in the undergrowth, she didn’t see anything other than a few pigeons desperately trying to out-fly an ominous cloud.
Nessa stopped and stared at the approaching storm, wondering how a beast like that had managed to sneak up on them so quickly. It stretched from horizon to horizon, a black mass of churning chaos that was barrelling towards them with shocking speed.
“That doesn’t look good,” Nessa said.
Hunter paused and gawked. “No, no it is not.”
An hour later, thunder rumbled overhead as the storm cloud overtook them with a rush of wind that made the trees groan. The sun disappeared behind a blanket of rolling darkness, plunging the land into premature night. Frigid rain poured down, soaking Nessa in a matter of seconds, making the dress stick to her skin, the skirts cling to her legs, tangling around them.
“Come on!” Hunter shouted over the howl of the wind, grabbing her hand. “There’s a cave in the mountain’s foothills just under a mile away. We need to get to it, and soon, before we catch our deaths!”
Nessa nodded, desperate to be out of the rain, and let Hunter pull her along at a breakneck speed.
The ground swiftly became riddled with rapidly growing puddles, and the trees seemed determined to k
nock into them or to trip them up. Hunter, though, seemed to have cat-like senses, and managed to avoid running into them, for the most part.
Thunder bellowed above them, making the ground shake and their bones rattle. Nessa clutched at Hunter’s hand as he sped up, going full speed through the darkening forest. An instant later, lightning flashed. It showed, for a brief disconcerting moment, the world in blinding white light. The trees cast haunting shadows, their branches seemingly reaching out to grab at Nessa, and the ground appeared to be alive with snake-like streams.
As quickly as the lightning appeared, did it vanish, leaving them running blind and dazed.
A peculiar sensation came over Nessa, one that was unrecognisable yet somehow familiar to her. Everything faded until there was nothing but a silence so deep and profound, it was like the deepest reaches of space had wrapped themselves around her.
Then the world tipped sideways and Nessa fell.
The ground was wet. Not with rain, but with blood. With a yelp, Nessa pushed herself up on translucent arms, trembling from her fall, and stared at the crimson liquid that covered her, fresh and running down her front in think rivulets.
“Not real,” Nessa muttered, trying to convince herself of that fact. “Not bloody real. You’ve whacked your head. Or gone insane. Maybe both?”
If that was the case, then it was one hell of a hallucination Nessa was having. The term hell was surely an apt description of the scene she had fallen, quite literally, into.
All signs of the forest and the storm had gone, replaced by Armageddon.
The moon hung low in the sky, watching over with a slitted eye, and the air was filled with the sound of metal clashing against metal and unearthly screams. The ground rumbled with what felt like footsteps of a gigantic beast moving unseen. Nessa jumped to her feet, fearful that the creature might be upon her.
Standing, Nessa found herself engulfed in a thick cloud of smoke. Her eyes watered and she coughed, stumbling away before it choked her. She rounded a wall, which was mostly in pieces, and reeled back a step.
House of Fear and Freedom (The Wyrd Sequence Book 1) Page 19