Dragon Bonds (Return of the Darkening Series Book 3) (10 page)

Before I could say anything else, a dragon’s shadow flew overhead. I glanced up and saw the king on Naxtal. But if the king was on the dragon, where was…?

“Rider Flamma!” Ryan shouted from behind. I turned to see him striding toward me. He must have dismounted from his dragon, for he still wore his riding leathers and his dragon armor.

Turning in my saddle, I called out, “Ryan, this is Arkady Bismollah Shaar. He and his wife, Sansha, once looked after me.” My horse gave a snort and stomped as if even he knew the Gypsies were friendly enough.

Ryan came up to my side and put a hand on the hilt of my sword. He glanced once at me and said, his voice soft, “You will address me as Commander Flamma. The king has charged me with military defense as well as his own protection.”

Hurt welled in my chest. Ryan seemed more distant right now than Reynalt ever had. I tried to tell myself it was just the worry—if the king thought he needed more protection, then even he was starting to feel as if we were being hunted and invisibly tracked.

I gave a nod and waved a hand at Arkady’s caravan. “Of course, Commander Flamma. As you say, Commander Flamma. Now, might I visit with my friends, Commander Flamma?”

Ryan shot me another hard look, then turned to Arkady. “You come from the Southern Realm? What is your business here?”

I rolled my eyes. “Ryan…I mean, Commander Flamma, I can vouch for these people. They are no threat, and they might bring us valuable news.”

Ryan seemed to at least be thinking about that.

Roluz, Arkady’s son, poked his head out from the back of the caravan and waved at me, looking skinny but so much taller than when I’d last seen him. I waved back before giving Ryan a shrug. Arkady was smoothing his mustache and trying to dust off his vest as if that would make him look respectable. The Gypsies were probably used to poor receptions from many—they were often thought to be thieves and liars. But I had always found them to be good folks.

I started to tell Ryan that, but he cut me off with a wave of his hand and said, “Report to the supply wagons. I will deal with this.”

Opening my mouth, I was going to tell Ryan what he could do with his orders and his arrogance. But I could hear the clatter of foot soldiers behind us. I glanced back to see the troops had caught up to me. Behind them a good distance were the wagons. Well, if Ryan wanted to talk to Arkady, he could. I gave Arkady another wave and turned my mount around, grumbling as I trotted to the wagons.

Who does he think he is?

Yes, Ryan was now confidante to the king, and he was my senior. But I had combat experience—maybe as much as he did. And I knew I was better with a sword or a bow. I had also helped find the Memory Stone—before Lord Vincent took it. And I helped find the Armor Stone—before Lord Vincent took it.

In fact, it wasn’t so long ago that old King Durance was looking on me as a suitable candidate to wed his son. I might have become queen of the Middle Kingdom.

Not that I wanted that, of course.

But now I was beginning to see that Ryan still regarded me as his little sister. He probably blamed me for not keeping Seb here. And the king—well, he didn’t have time to think about anything except planning his attack on Lord Vincent.

My skin heated and I squinted at the dust stirred up by the wagons. Maybe Seb had been right. He’d acted like a true Dragon Rider, taking on the orders of Commander Hegarty. I should be up there flying, attacking and protecting as only a Dragon Rider can. Instead, I was stuck on the ground.

With the supply wagons.

* * *

B
y late evening
, we had made camp in the forest, and Ryan had released Arkady and his family. I heard Ryan tell Arkady to camp with us, and I was pretty sure that meant Ryan still didn’t trust the Gypsies not to go running off to tell Lord Vincent where we were. As if the Gypsies had any love of the Darkening.

The sun had already set by the time I was able to head over to Arkady’s camp. My stomach grumbled when I remembered the fine meal Sansha had once cooked. I made sure that I arrived at the Gypsies’ two caravans with a brace of fish I’d caught in the nearby river.

Sansha beamed with a wide smile when she saw the fish. She still had dark hair and wore a black dress and skirt. She started to order Afiyah—who now looked so much like her mother—to get out the iron skillet. Roluz, who was trying to grow a mustache and had grown a foot taller, sat with Arkady’s brother Turri by the fire. Roluz was playing a violin while Turri played a flute. They nodded to me, and Arkady waved me to sit next to him by the fire where he was smoking a pipe. “It seems your new king is suspicious of everyone and has lots of questions!” Arkady laughed as if that was a great joke.

I nodded, saying nothing, and held my hands to the small fire.

The Gypsies had set up camp a little ways distant from everyone else, under a stand of tall pines. Arkady seemed very much as I remembered, a cheerful soul, and he started into stories of how they were trying to make their way to the coast, for they had heard it was safer there.

I shook my head. “Is anywhere safe?”

Arkady nodded. “There is truth in that.”

Sansha and Afiyah had brought out iron pans to fry the broad river fish. Pausing with her hands on her hips, Sansha raised her eyebrows and stared at me. “No Seb?” she asked.

Behind her, Arkady cleared his throat. “We should not ask if we do not want the answer.”

“No—it’s not what you think. Seb is fine. At least, I think he is…or he was the last I saw. The fact is…” A knot tightened in my throat as if there was something trapped there. I blinked hard and said, “He’s as safe as anyone can be these days.”

Arkady swapped a look with his brother, Turri, who nodded and started to play a sad song.

“Oh, shush.” Sansha waved a hand and then told Afiyah, “Get out the salt and the wine.” She looked at me. “Don’t tell me you and your Seb had an argument? And what of that dragon of yours? You and your Seb were as alike as peas in a pod.”

I gave a shrug, and Arkady waved at her. “Food first, then talk.”

Sansha grumbled, but soon had the fish sizzling. Afiyah brought out a bottle of something tangy that went down with surprising speed. Crusty bread came out, and I had the best meal I’d known in what seemed forever.

The Gypsies managed to ignore the soldiers that kept wandering past. Guards, I thought, posted by my too-cautious brother. I had the feeling this might not be the first time the Gypsies had seen an army camp.

Sansha confirmed that, bustling around the fire to gather up the plates. “Your king isn’t the only lord to go a-marching. The Southern Realm…” She let the words drift and made a tutting noise. “We daren’t go north now, and we daren’t go back south. East is the mountains and west is the sea. We will run out of land soon.” She threw one hand in the air.

“It’s bad in the South, as well?” I asked, worried now for the commander and Mordecai. “How bad?”

Arkady took out his pipe again and tapped it on his palm. “The Southern Realm has a vile disease and it is called sudden patriotism.” He spat on the ground. It was the first time I had seen him speak so frankly and harshly.

“Patriotism? But…that’s a good thing.”

“Not when aimed at Lord Vincent and the Darkening. To go against him is death.” Arkady shook his head and stroked his mustache.

“Wait—Lord Vincent’s in the Southern Realm?” My mouth dried. If Lord Vincent was there, then Commander Hegarty and Instructor Mordecai were in great danger. And what of the dragons there? Were they fighting the Darkening even now?

Arkady shook his head and took his pipe from his mouth. “You should come away with us. We go west as far as we can, and then we will take boats to return to Shaar, if all goes well. You will be safe with my people. At least, I think you will.”

Reaching down, I grabbed a log and tossed it into the fire. “I doubt any spot is safe. Lord Vincent holds the North—or so we hear. Torvald has fallen. The Middle Kingdom is ready to fall. And now you say the Southern Realm…that not all is well?”

He let out a breath and leaned his elbows on his thighs. “The stories I hear told is that Lord Vincent came to the Southern Realm, making friends first with one prince and then another. He made himself very useful, had many trade contacts that reached to the far north.”

“That sounds like him—the snake!”

“Then the stories change. People started to forget things, such as the names of their lords. Whole settlements seemed to vanish as if they never were. When the Golden Eyre was lost—that is the home to all of the dragons of Vyr—well, the talk turned back to the last time that happened…the time of the Darkening. Lord Vincent swept in with an army of black dragons, saying he would protect the Southern Realm. Instead, he has spread war and fire, and now everyone lives in fear of the raiders who roam the land, taking what they want all in the name of Lord Vincent.” Arkady shook his head. He glanced down at his pipe as if he had forgotten it and tucked it away.

Turri had taken up his flute and was playing it, and Sansha sent Afiyah and Roluz to the river to bring back water.

Glancing at me, Arkady said, “The land did not get better under Lord Vincent’s rule. There are more raiders. Gypsies like us were not encouraged to stay. There were battles, we heard. And now it is nothing but fighting and more fighting.”

“Which is why you are heading back to your homeland?”

“Yes.” Sansha smiled, but her eyes still seemed sad. “We would rather stay, but what can we do? We know nothing of war and this looks to be a terrible one.”

“Your dragon, is she well?” Arkady asked.

“Kalax? She’s with Seb. They traveled north.”

Frowning, he asked, “And why aren’t you with them?”

“I—uh…it’s complicated.”

Arkady straightened and slapped the side of my thigh. “Come with us. You can come find a new life. Leave word for your Seb and your dragon to follow you.”

I shook my head. I didn’t quite know what to say. The offer was said so lightly, I couldn’t feel like he was being serious, but when I looked into his eyes I could see he really did see me as family.

More so than even Ryan does right now.

It had been a long time since I’d last seen Arkady and his family, but the few nights here and there had somehow formed a tie between us. They might be outsiders, but they were also generous and kind. This was a family I felt pulled toward.

Afiyah and Roluz came back from the river with buckets of water. Afiyah sat next to her father on the ground, demanding a story. Roluz groaned and rolled his eyes, looking more like a young man, but he, too, sat and leaned forward, eager for a tale. Sansha poured more wine for all of us and even Turri tucked away his flute and waited for Arkady to start talking.

After smoothing his mustache, Arkady said, “Well, because we travel the three kingdoms and war has come again, the story must be of war and the kingdoms. And the story will be of the First Rider and the First Dragon.”

I settled back, leaning my palms on the ground. It was warm next to Arkady’s fire and I could do with a story.

Leaning forward, Arkady’s voice dropped to a deep, soft tone, so I had to strain to hear him. “Long ago, or so the monks always used to say, there was indeed dragon who became a First Dragon, and he was called so because one great king dared to ride that dragon—and he became the First Rider. But this king, he did not start a king. No, he began as a boy who swept out the monastery. It was said he grew up an orphan. The monks who took him in lived near Mount Hammal, in the shadow of the dragons. For many years, the monks had fed sheep to the dragons, hoping if they did so the dragons would not eat them. But the boy thought this a silly idea. He thought the dragons were kind. So one day he went to where the dragons lived, into their caves.”

“What happened next?” Afiyah asked. She had her chin propped on her hand.

Roluz gave a snort. “You know this tale already.”

“Well, I don’t,” I told him. And it was true. I had heard stories of the First Rider—but only those stories of the First Rider and his dragon and how he took up his friend to be his navigator. I’d grown up on stories of battles and war—but I’d never heard a story of the time before the First Rider had learned to ride a dragon.

Arkady smiled and smoothed his mustache. “Well, the boy went to the dragons. The monks followed him and tried to stop him, but the boy was determined. Gradually, the monks fell back, for they feared the dragons. But the boy didn’t. By some luck or magic, the boy came first upon a dragon egg—not a dragon. He put his hand on the egg, and right then it cracked open. The dragon looked at the boy and the boy looked at the dragon and the two knew at once they would be forever friends. That dragon became Jalax—the First Dragon. But it took years for the boy to grow tall and the dragon to grow strong.”

“Was he a red?” I asked, thinking of Kalax’s crimson red scales.

“Ah, yes, she was,” Arkady said. He winked at me, and I wondered if he was making up this part of the story. “The boy spent years with the dragon, and one day he worked up his courage and climbed up on the dragon’s back, sitting just in front of the wings. And the two took to the sky, forever paired as rider and dragon…” Arkady’s voice trailed off.