Dragon Bonds (Return of the Darkening Series Book 3) (4 page)

I was worried about Seb. We’d gone with him to the shelter where he had found his mother. The shelter had been crowded with people—and it stank. I’d been glad to leave it. Seb’s family had seemed to understand that he had to go, too, but they had clung to him, particularly his little sister.

When we left, he was looking pale and glum. I’d asked him if he was all right. He had just shrugged and said in a low voice soaked with misery, “I don’t belong here anymore.”

He meant Monger’s Lane—not the shelter—and he was right. The others were treating him as if he had grown wings and a tail. Some of the children watched him with rounded eyes, whispering behind their hands until scolded.

“And I am not Agathea Flamma, a lady waiting to make an alliance that will improve my family’s standing,” I’d told him.

I’d wanted to tell him that these people respected him. I’d wanted to reason with him. In the shelter, I saw things I had never seen before. Those people were pulling together—the noble families weren’t.

Seb had just muttered doubtfully, “Family isn’t just who you’re born as, it’s who you find. Down in Monger’s Lane, they found each other when they had to rely on someone.”

As we strode toward the palace, I thought about that. It was a far cry from everything I had been brought up to believe. Your blood ties were supposed to be the most important thing about you—and who you married. The house name had to be kept alive through the centuries. This was something I’d been taught to respect and never question. In a way, that was what Reynalt, Mother and Father must be thinking. They could abandon Torvald if that could keep the future of the Flamma name secure.

There was a certain logic to it. But what would happen to those people down in the city if King Justin lost another battle? Would they be punished by Lord Vincent as that wild dragon had been? Would Lord Vincent enslave them?

I didn’t know. In some ways, it was nice to know that we had our orders. We were Dragon Riders first and had to trust that Commander Hegarty and the new king had a plan of attack against our enemy—the Darkening.

Unfortunately, I knew the new king a little too well. He wasn’t going to be happy that we didn’t really have anyone from the city who wanted to join in the king’s offensive.

“Next stop, the palace,” Ryan announced, pulling me from my thoughts. “We’ll meet King Justin and see what luck he has had in trying to gather the nobles.” He shot a dark look at me and said, “We’ll also see what we have left of the Royal Trove.”

Torvald Palace had been the seat of the ruling family for hundreds of years. It had stood almost as long as the Dragon Academy, which had taken over from the Draconis Order monastery, the original builders. Over all those generations, the palace had grown as each monarch added their stamp. Multiple wings, galleries, walls and towers housing everything from royal astronomers to aviaries covered acres of land.

Now, however, fire blackened the gray stone. Towers lay toppled in the gardens. Dragons had scampered across the roofs and turrets, scattering slate tiles and leaving huge holes. But even an invading army couldn’t completely destroy the palace—the central three keeps, the oldest part of the palace, still stood, tall and proud, and, for the moment, quiet.

Ryan lifted a hand to give me the signal. I cupped my hands around my mouth and gave a high, shrill whistle.

We waited.

An arrow streaked up into the sky, white and red ribbons fluttering from the shaft. It struck the ground a few feet from us.

The colors meant nothing new to report and all was safe to enter. Those in the palace had to be as worried about where the enemy might be—we still had Wildmen and raiders roaming the city.

Glancing back at the city, I thought of the shelter where Seb had met up with his family. The building had been more of a cellar. They had food and water, but most were too old, too hurt, or too young to join King Justin’s attack. They needed to hide—they needed us to keep them safe. Would the king see that, too?

I also wondered what the Darkening would think of Seb’s skills. Would they be interested in him? I hoped not.

“So we go in?” I asked.

Seb shrugged, but Ryan nodded and said, “They didn’t answer with three reds.”

“Maximum threat,” Seb muttered.

It was my turn to shrug. I knew enough flag and symbol navigation to help my navigator spot things, but I’d trained as a protector. One of the few female protectors ever. I could fight. I left reading maps to Seb, so I asked, “What are we waiting for?”

The gates were all guarded now and barricaded. We headed to the south wall and found the rope that had been thrown over and left for us. I went up first and stopped at the top to scan the area. All looked safe. Seb came up next and then Ryan. We shifted the rope to the inside of the wall and slid down it and into the garden below.

Gravel crunched under foot. Statues had been smashed by the Wildmen. I noticed the head of a cherub looking up at us mournfully from the shallows of one fountain.

Inside the palace walls, all seemed quiet. The Wildmen that Lord Vincent and the Darkening were using seemed a long way away. It was odd to be in the quiet gardens without hearing music or fanfares. The royal court was certainly no longer in attendance on the king.

Heading to the central towers, I thought it looked mostly deserted. We headed up the stairs. To the right, I could see what had once been the main ballroom—most of the wall was gone and the checkerboard marble floor was strewn with broken chandeliers and the stubs of candles. The Wildmen marauders had clearly spent time ripping down the tapestries and curtains, but they had not stopped to rest. They were nowhere in sight.

Lord Vincent must be driving them pretty hard.

I’d heard childhood stories that the Wildmen liked bright colors and metals. Had they stopped to take what they could, or were they under such tight control through the Memory Stone and the Darkening that they could only fight? If they had been bought, that might be something that could work in our favor one of these days.

Inside the central towers, the atrium of the First Dragon had once held a statue of an immense dragon—the First Dragon. Twin staircases led upward. However, the First Dragon was no more. It looked as though it had cost considerable effort, but the statue had been brought down to shatter on the floor. The marble lay scattered and chipped into piles.

Something teased at my memory, but I couldn’t quite place it. Something about this statue? No, it was gone. I followed after Seb and Ryan as they headed up the stairs to the first landing.

A friendly voice called out. “Hey!”

Looking up, I saw the welcome sight of Varla’s pale face and sunlight glinting off the optics Merik wore to see better. He had his flying goggles pushed up on his head. Varla’s red hair glinted bright and she waved down at us, her dragon armor looking as if she had polished it. Merik held what looked like a meat pastry in one hand, and I realized then I was hungry.

I waved back as we clambered to the second landing where they stood. After a brief round of hugs and much clapping of shoulders, I asked them what the situation was.

Merik grimaced. His dark skin looked even darker, stained as it was with soot from the fires. He hadn’t washed, but Varla must have, for no soot stained her cheeks. “Not the best,” he admitted, looking to Varla.

She nodded. “Other riders have returned—they became separated from Commander Hegarty and the king before the battle. They claim they traveled to the Academy to see if they could help, but they’re…they’re still struggling when trying to recognizing people.” Varla stared at a very nondescript patch on the floor. I could tell she wasn’t happy with this.

“So? That’s good news if it means more help. What of it?” I said, but I could see there was something else that she wasn’t telling me.

Merik waved his meat pie. “Come on. Come eat. And you might as well know all—it’s not just that they must have come under the influence of Lord Vincent’s Memory Stone…they kept on talking about the rightful king.”

My chest tightened. I shared a worried look with my brother.
Please don’t let them be saying Reynalt, please don’t let them be saying Reynalt Flamma!

Next to me, Seb shifted on his feet, and he said, “Who do they say is king?”

“Lord Vincent.” Varla huffed out a breath. “They keep on babbling that Lord Vincent is the rightful High King of the Three Realms by dint of conquest.”

My shoulders eased down. “Is
that
all? We can deal with that, can’t we, Seb?”

Lines creased Seb’s forehead as he frowned even deeper. “You saw what happened out there when I tried with that poor wild dragon. What if the Darkening does the same thing again—but with someone?”

“So…we just give up and let them win us over one by one?” Ryan said.

“Ryan is right, Seb—we still have to do what we can.” I turned to Varla and Merik. “Who’s been saying this?”

“Beris and Syl,” Varla said. She turned to lead us deeper into the palace. “You’d better see this.”

* * *

O
f all of
the people I wouldn’t have minded turning against us, Beris and Syl were top of that list. That pair of bullies had taken joy in stirring up trouble. But we were all Dragon Riders, and we needed each other.

Beris and Syl were each tied to a chair in a small—by Torvald Palace standards—room. A round mahogany table stood next to the narrow tower windows, built in the days when only arrow slits were added to any tower. Plush carpets as yet undamaged lay on the floor and a few paintings had been saved and stacked in one corner. That was better than having them destroyed—but how many other things would we never recover? And would that list include more riders?

Struggling against his bonds, Beris glared at me, his small dark eyes seeming half-empty. He no longer wore his armor and his tunic had been torn at one shoulder, as if he’d been in a fight. Syl had a bruise on one cheek and while he still had his armor breastplate, he had lost his helmet—just like Beris. Both of them had dusty boots, and I wondered where their blue dragon was right now.

I could no longer hate either Beris or Syl at that moment. It wasn’t their fault they were under the control of the Darkening. It
was
their fault that they were such awful people generally, but maybe they would learn something from this after Seb brought them ‘round.

I highly doubted it, but still I held some hope.

Beris grunted again, struggling so much that he jostled Syl, who sat next to him. They had been gone, along with most of the other Dragon Riders, to be a part of Commander Hegarty’s doomed mission to the north. That mission had left the Academy and the city nearly defenseless, and I was sure that had been Lord Vincent’s doing, acting through the Memory Stone to give Commander Hegarty the idea that he could win if he took a large enough force of Dragon Riders north.

The truth was they had encountered the enemy—but the Memory Stone and the Darkening itself had cast a terrible enchantment over the cavalcade, scattering them into the wilderness while Lord Vincent’s Wildmen and wild dragons attacked Torvald. Seb and I had managed to break the spell, but it seemed Seb hadn’t managed to help all the riders.

I still don’t know what part in the attack on Torvald Beris and Syl played, or even if they had been part of that battle. Had they merely stood back, confused and forgetting everything? I’d seen that happen to those under the control of the Memory Stone. I was just glad now that Varla and Merik had them tied up.

“Release them,” Seb said. He knelt on one knee before them. I could feel the waves of something like pressure, like a stiff breeze, coming from him. He was trying to break the enchantment that the Darkening had on them, trying to return them to their normal selves through his Dragon Affinity. If he could connect them to their dragon, Gaxtal, it might work.

I wasn’t really sure how Seb did what he did, but he’d helped me connect to Kalax so I could share thoughts with her. And I could definitely feel when Seb used his affinity, but was that because I had spent so long training and riding partnered with him? Or was it because we were both bonded through Kalax? I looked at Ryan, who stood in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chests and a frown tight on his face. He looked as if he didn’t like any of this obviously unnatural stuff.

“Back off, tinker!” Beris snarled in a voice thick with venom. I shuddered. That wasn’t his voice. He sounded too much like Lord Vincent. Goose bumps lifted on my skin, and I had to push back the memory of when Vincent had tried to kill me.

Seb closed his eyes. Sweat slicked his forehead. His breathing became faster, and he put a hand to his forehead. For a minute, Beris’ face seemed to blank, and Syl held very still. But then Seb opened his eyes, stood and shook his head. “It’s no good. I can’t reach them—they aren’t dragons. Their minds are…are too fragile.”

Said humans have small minds.
The thought came to me from Kalax. She had made it clear long ago she thought humans were extremely useful but weren’t a patch on dragons.

“That’s right, tinkerer and Lady Flamma.” Beris snarled the words, sending a chill down my spine. Beris Veer from the House Veer would never call me
Lady
Flamma. He thought I was lowering myself to ride with Sebastian Smith, and he didn’t think any female should be a protector.