Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) (11 page)

Chapter Twenty

Kallon barged through the trees back toward town. He’d allowed himself to be distracted by the Brown, and had lost valuable time. Her words, and her presence, clung to his mind, lingering like the shapeless blotches before his eyes when he stared too long at the sun.

Back on the dirt path, he wound around carts and wooden slabs. There were a few shelters, some woven with branches and vines to hold supplies or food stores. None were large enough to hide a human, let alone a dragon. For all he knew, the dragon was long gone, anyway, and the wizard with him. He did find a meager scent trail, and followed it to the farthest edge of the town. There his nose gave out, weary from sniffing. He could smell everything and nothing. All odors seemed the same.

His ears, however, were strong. Whispers came from behind a nearby lean-to, and he crept closer to investigate. Through the spaces between woven twigs, he saw movement. Arms of black leather wrapped fat twine around a set of bony, gray shoulders. A white beard was tossed over one of those shoulders. “Orman?”

At Kallon’s voice, a pair of dark eyes blinked through the twig slats. “This is no business of yours, dragon,” said a voice that must have belonged to the eyes.

“What do you do, there?” Kallon peered around the edge of the structure to meet the dark human’s face. A soft sound came from beside him. It was the wizard, bound with twine and sitting on a fat stump. Orman’s head rolled aside, and he moaned again. Blood caked in the corner of his mouth.

An emotion Kallon had no name for sizzled through his veins. “Who are you? What have you done?” He knocked Orman’s captor off-balance as he pushed forward to free the wizard. Tugging at a knot, Kallon heard the clang of steel against steel. The sound echoed through his memories. He swerved his gaze to the dark human who stood with sword in hand.

“I said this is no business of yours, dragon.”

Kallon stared at the gleaming blade and recoiled. Fear, mysterious and murky, chilled him. He felt suddenly small and vulnerable, and helpless against a terror that wrestled for control. He looked to Orman. The wizard’s eyes were on him, calm and knowing.

“Now, now, Armitage,” said a muted voice. From the trees behind the human emerged a White, whose scales of pearl glinted so harshly with each step that Kallon had to squint.

“What goes on here? Why have you stolen the wizard?” Kallon asked.

“My dear Red,” said the White, as he oozed toward Kallon like a widening puddle of spilled milk. “This wizard has not been stolen.”

“I followed you here. I know you stole him.”

The White glared at the human in black, who slid his sword back into its sheath. “This wizard is a friend of yours?” asked the White. He circled slowly behind Kallon. “Mind your answer, Red. He is in a dire situation.”

“What situation?”

The White sighed, and rested his glittering paw atop Orman’s head. “I fear he is accused of passing secrets. Spying.”

Kallon reared back. Orman shot to his feet. “Spying!” said dragon and wizard in unison.

Dragon heads turned from their business toward the shout.

“Since when have dragons and humans been adversaries?” Kallon asked as Orman struggled against his bindings, paler than Kallon had ever seen him.

“Since humans began sneaking about on our lands, trying to learn secrets and weaknesses of our Kind.”

Dragon murmurs erupted. Listeners drew closer, shrinking in slowly toward the scene.

“What secrets do we keep, that humans must sneak about to learn them?” Kallon wedged himself between the White and Orman. “I can vouch for the loyalty of this human. He knew my mother. My father served as his vassal.”

“Your father?” The White shot a cold look to the human, who didn’t react, and then to the growing dragon throng, whose whispers grew agitated. “Your father was Bren Redheart?” He smiled, and lowered his snout, arms widening. “The name is honored, of course.” The crowd agreed, and hushed voices echoed the sentiment.

“I am Kallon Redheart. I vouch for this wizard.” Kallon reached for Orman’s shoulders. The White’s paw stopped him.

“Kallon Redheart. Yes, I remember. Is this the wizard your father was defending when he was killed? How many years ago was that, exactly?”

Kallon glanced toward the crowd of dragons, which had gone quiet.

“Many thought you were dead.” The White’s eyes narrowed. “Have you come finally to claim your place among us?”

“I come for the wizard.”

“Ah. Yes. The spy.”

“He is no spy!”

Orman slouched back onto the stump, and Kallon reached toward him. The dark human sprang to block.

“Gentle dragons,” called the White. He darted a paw to stop the human. “This dragon gives word for the wizard’s loyalty, but this dragon is known by name only.” Facing the crowd, he extended his arms. “He is no one to us but a stranger, who claims a name long dead to our Kind. Is there anyone among you who can vouch for him?”

Kallon turned to the listeners. Each face was a stranger, each pair of eyes as unfamiliar as the next. Not one did he recognize, not one did he expect to speak.

He looked at Orman, who sat quiet and staring toward the distance. For the first time, Kallon felt ashamed of turning his back all those years ago. He bristled against the feeling, but couldn’t make it disappear.

“No one?” asked the White. “Not one of you knows this Red?”

There was movement in the throng. Dragons parted, making room for a Brown. She pressed forward and craned her delicate neck. Kallon again found the gentle face of Vaya Browning. She remained silent.

“Anyone?” called the White. “Surely someone is willing to claim this Red’s sincerity.”

Vaya’s eyes set hard on Kallon’s face. She lowered her chin. “Pardon me,” she said quietly to the dragon stranger beside her, and squeezed past. Turning her back, she disappeared into the mass.

“Very well.” The White clucked his tongue at Kallon. “I cannot accept your vouch for this human, if there is no dragon to vouch for you. You understand.” He hoisted Orman, bound and listless, with his forelegs. “Armitage, you know what to do.” He soared to the sky.

“No!” Kallon dove. He just missed Orman’s legs and tumbled into the lean-to. The woven structure exploded, raining twigs and straw, obscuring his view. He lost which way was up. Just as he got his legs beneath himself, pain sliced into the base of his tail. He snarled, swiping instinctively.

He struck the dark human’s chest, and the man stumbled back, but immediately raised his sword again. The blade captured a flash of sunlight, and as before, Kallon was thrust back in his mind to a place of dim, churning fear. He knew that sword. He had stared up at it before. The curved handle had been lifted high to strike, and Kallon had closed his eyes and waited to die.

A collective gasp from the crowd drew him out of his memory. He blinked and lurched to his feet. Around him, Greens, Blues and Grays pressed in, growling at the human in warning, surrounding Kallon with protection.

He had no time to thank them; he had to follow the White. He leapt into the air, and pressed hard against the sky. In the distance, he saw the same glitter of cloud-like shine from before. He swerved to follow. Hot pain clamped his spine, twisting him in mid-air. He struggled to stay airborne, but his injured wing drooped, and his tail went heavy and unable to rudder.

He tried to push on, but he could only watch as the dragon, with Orman, faded and then finally disappeared. He lost them. He managed to hover for a few seconds, but in the end, he knew he’d been beaten. Wounded and bleeding, he had to give up.

With a roar of frustration, he dropped. He landed too fast, and his legs crumpled. His belly hit hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. His tail flared with pain, but before he could cry out, he was engulfed in darkness.

Chapter Twenty-One

“It is four o’clock, isn’t it?” Riza asked Rusic. She waited, perched on a barstool in the Brown Barrel, and fervently hoped that Jastin had changed his mind about meeting her here.

Rusic tugged a pocket clock from behind his apron and nodded. “Quarter past, in fact.”

“He must have gotten busy. Oh well. I need to check on my bird.” She slid off the barstool and passed Old Yammer, who gave her a toothless grin. She hurried toward the stairs.

“Do forgive my tardiness.”

Riza heard Jastin’s voice over the heavy thud of his footsteps. She grimaced and hurried even faster toward the stairs. “Don’t be silly,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m sure you’re busy. I’d just as soon go to my room.” She made it to the first step.

“Nonsense.” Jastin’s hand caught her elbow and steered her around. “I’m here now, and I’m famished. You?”

“Actually, I’m not hungry at all.”

“No? More for me, then.” Jastin nodded at Rusic, who disappeared behind the kitchen door and returned with a small, cloth-covered box. Jastin tucked this under his arm as he pulled Riza past the bar. “Blade will escort us.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying not to trip on her own feet as he yanked her outside.

“Picnic.” He pushed the small crate into Blade’s saddlebag.

Riza blinked.

“What’s that look for?” he asked.

She shrugged a little. “I guess I didn’t think of you as a picnic kind of person.”

Jastin’s eyes squinted. Then he hoisted her and sat her hard onto Blade’s saddle.

She hunched forward in the seat as Jastin settled behind her. His arm squeezed around her belly. “I feel like a prisoner,” she muttered, squirming.

“A what?”

“The way you push me around, and bark at me, and now you’re holding me so tight I can’t even breathe.”

Jastin let go. He switched hands on the reins, and thumped his heels against Blade’s ribs. The horse lurched into a trot, jerking so hard that Riza squeaked and flailed, and finally grabbed the saddle horn to keep from falling. She was trying to get her heartbeat under control when he spoke.

“I didn’t realize I was barking. I’ve always thought myself a gentleman with you.”

“Well,” Riza said, concentrating on squeezing her legs and trying to find Blade’s rhythm so she didn’t bounce so much in the saddle. “You do order me around.”

His voice was soft when he spoke again. “Then I owe you an apology, milady field mouse.”

Riza glanced over her shoulder at him. His dark eyes focused ahead.

She looked back to the trail. Blade was carrying them far from town. For a time, she listened to the crunch of Blade’s hooves against brittle grass, and to the whistle of sparrow song through leafless trees. The ride might have been enjoyable, if she wasn’t so tired already from trying to hold herself steady.

Slowly, in tiny degrees, she began to relax. She leaned back, just touching Jastin enough to stabilize so she could rest her arms from gripping the saddle horn, and to loosen her legs around Blade’s ribs. Jastin didn’t even seem to notice. Now she could close her eyes and breathe in each dry breeze that tickled her face.

She lost track of how long they’d traveled before she felt a shift. She opened her eyes to find they’d followed the tree line of the mountain forest, and that they were on a slight descent toward a huge expanse of red clay. “Where are we?” she asked.

“Fell Lake.” His voice was close to her ear. She realized she’d been resting the back of her head against his shoulder. She bolted upright, and found that his hand had made its way to her stomach and gently pressed there.

“This is a lake?” she asked, twisting to dislodge his hand.

“Used to be. It was the largest body of water in all of Leland, though shallow enough for a horse to walk across, even before the drought.” He urged her out of the saddle, and then slipped off, as well. He retrieved a woven blanket and the crate, spread the blanket over the cracked dirt, and sat. “Dinner.” Then he bowed his head. “If you find yourself hungry, after all.”

“I guess I am, a little.” She plopped beside him on the blanket and pulled the cloth from the crate. Warm beef and rolls released delicious steam. She reached for a roll, and bumped hands with Jastin, who’d had the same idea.

“Ladies first, of course,” he said, and rested his hand against his chest. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and she tried to remember if she’d seen him without them before. His fingers were thick and dusted with black, curling hair. Scars criss-crossed his skin. Beneath his hand, at the vee of his collar, more curling hairs tangled above a slash of peeking white.

“Is that a bandage? Are you bleeding?” She brushed away his hand and peered close. The bandage was speckled with seeping blood. “What happened?”

“I tangled with a tree in my rush to see you.”

She frowned. He was lying, but there was no sense in arguing. She sat back and poked at her roll. “I realize I don’t even know why you’re here in Durance. What sort of business are you in? Are you something of a warrior?”

“Yes, something of that nature.”

“And you’re new here, like me.”

“Yes, I’ll only be here for a short time. Then I’ll return to South Morlan, where I prefer to live between journeys.” He took a large bite of bread, and Riza watched his jaw work as he chewed. The lines of his face were cleaned of their usual dust, and the gray at the tip of his beard stood out more sharply against glistening black whiskers.

“Do you have family there?” She lifted her roll for a bite.

He swallowed, eyes scanning the horizon. “My wife’s family lives near there.”

Riza paused, her bread in mid-air. “You have a wife?”

He tore what was left of his bread in half, and tossed the two pieces to Blade. “I had a wife. A long time ago.” He tugged a slab of beef from the crate and offered it to her. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes, actually.” She accepted the meat, and sandwiched it into her roll. “Did you love her?”

“Of course I did.”

“What happened to her?”

“You ask a lot of questions.”

She sighed. “I know.” She nibbled at her sandwich. Feeling him watching, she shifted self-consciously. She tried to find the other side of the lakebed, but it disappeared into the hazy distance. She glanced back at him. He was still watching. She cleared her throat. “So why did you want me to come here with you?”

His thick brows arched. “It isn’t obvious?”

“No.” He narrowed his eyes, as though trying to decide if she was lying. “Well,” she added. “Rusic seems to think it’s something of a courtship, but that can’t possibly be the reason.”

“Why not?”

She snorted. “Because you don’t even like me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“First I’m a beggar, then I’m a field mouse. I’m skinny. I’m trouble. You don’t know anything about me, but you’re always angry with me. You watch me as though I’m going to do something criminal—”

He held up his hand. “All right. I see what you mean.” He brushed his palms down his thighs, and then pushed to stand. “You’re right. At first, I didn’t trust you. I didn’t believe your intentions were as innocent as they appeared.”

“My intentions? What do you mean?”

He moved to Blade, and opened the leather flap of a saddlebag. “I’ve since come to suspect that you are genuine, after all. Misguided and foolish, but genuine.”

“That sounds an awful lot like you still don’t like me.”

He tugged a wine bottle from the bag, and two small mugs. He returned to the blanket and sat, offering her a mug. She accepted. “Does that bother you?” he asked.

She lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “Not really. Except that you order me around.”

He pulled the cork from the bottle and poured dark wine into her mug. “Yes, so you’ve mentioned.” He touched the neck of the bottle to his own mug, and filled that, too. “You have to understand, I’ve spent a number of years alone, traveling from city to city. It doesn’t require manners. I suppose I’ve forgotten how to be with a lady.” He sipped his wine, and kept his gaze toward the blanket.

For once, he lacked the dark, intense expression she’d come to recognize. He actually seemed thoughtful. And somehow, younger. “You must have loved her very much.”

He glanced up. “Hm?”

“Your wife. You must have loved her very much, if you’ve chosen to spend so many years alone since she died.”

“Yes.” He nodded, and looked down again as he sipped. “I did.”

“How did she die?” she asked.

He touched the bottom of her mug and urged it toward her mouth. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

She sipped, and then rested her mug on her thigh. She stared down into the wine and watched it ripple as the silence between them stretched.

“Fire,” he finally said. “She was burned.”

“Oh. I’m so sorry.”

“She was carrying my child. It was to be our first.” His grip tightened around his mug. “She liked to walk, like you do.”

“What happened?”

He drained his wine. He drew the back of his scarred hand across his mouth. “I heard her scream. There was a loud explosion. By the time I reached her, she was…” His voice broke. He cleared his throat. “There was a circle of burned earth all around her. I saw a gold dragon flying away.”

“A dragon? But why? For what purpose?”

“I never knew.” He poured fresh wine into his mug, and offered the bottle toward hers, but hers was still full. She shook her head. “I vowed after that to hunt every dragon I laid my eyes on,” he said. “For the rest of my life.”

Riza sucked in a breath. “You’re a dragon hunter.”

“Yes.”

She pushed to her feet, spilling wine on her boot, the blanket, his thigh. “You kill dragons! For money! That isn’t even legal!”

Jastin jumped up, too, and growled at the stain on his leather pants. He grabbed the cloth and swiped at the wetness. “A man needs a living, Riza. No one scrutinizes the law when the beasts are destroying livestock and hoarding the land richest with crystal.” He tossed the cloth back to the blanket. “Dragons may have served a purpose for humans once, but they have long outlived it.”

“I can’t believe you’re saying that. They are living creatures, with hearts and souls. They have kindness, Jastin. I don’t know why one dragon out of so many chose to hurt your wife, and I’m very sorry for you. But not every dragon deserves to die because of the action of one.”

“That is beside the point.” He stepped toward her. She shrank back, and his face took on familiar, angry shadows. “Things are the way they are, and I am too old to take a different route. I haven’t cared in a very long time about right or wrong. I haven’t cared about anything. Until now.” His hands gripped her waist. “You are caught up in things that far exceed your understanding, Riza. I’m giving you a chance to get out.”

She pushed at his hands. “What are you talking about? Let me go.”

“That first time we met, in the barn, I recognized the scent on you. I have been watching you; you’re right about that. I’ve followed you. I know where you go when you walk the day away.”

Her skin went cold. “What do you mean?”

“That beast you’ve befriended cannot be trusted. You know nothing about him, except what he wishes you to know. Already the town is talking about him, and how dangerous he is.”

“He isn’t dangerous, Jastin. You are.”

“Even so, the town is talking. And if they learn what I have learned about you, you will suffer.”

“I don’t care. Let me go.”

“It doesn’t have to be this way. Give him up to me. I’ll protect you if you help me.”

“Help you kill him? Are you insane?” She pushed with all her strength at his hands, and twisted away from him. “Leave me alone! I will not help you harm him.”

“Yes, you will,” he said, and captured her shoulders. She dug her toes into the clay, but it crumbled, and he pulled her close. One strong arm wrapped her waist as the fingers of his other hand lifted her chin. Panic welled as she met his eyes. “You will help me,” he said again. “In one way or another.”