A Birthright of Blood (The Dragon War, Book 2) (11 page)

He
kept walking.

The sun fell behind the trees.
Long shadows stretched out, then faded into darkness. Only the stars
lit the night. The wind moaned, the trees creaked, and a distant
wolf howled.

Fear filled Scraggles and he
mewled. Two days ago, a jackal had pounced and bitten his flank.
The wound still blazed. And wolves were even larger; Scraggles had
seen one howling upon a hilltop last night.

If
they catch me, they will kill me,
he thought and whimpered again.

He kept walking. He had to keep
going. He dared not sleep, not with wolves nearby. The trees
creaked in the darkness and branches snagged him. More howls rose.
Scraggles walked on.

I
have to rest,
he thought. He was so tired. So very tired. He had to lie down.
He could curl up here. He could place his head against his paws,
close his eyes, and wait for death to find him. It wouldn't be long.
Another day or two, and the thirst would claim him, or maybe the
wolves. And his pain would end.

He blinked. He took another
step. He was so weary.

I'll
lie down for only a bit,
he thought.
I'll
close my eyes. Maybe I'll dream of Master.

He sat upon the forest floor,
the wolves howled, and Scraggles whimpered.

I
miss you, Master. Do you too wander this forest? Do you too seek
me?

Scraggles lay down. He placed
his head on his paws and shivered in the cold. He was about to close
his eyes when he glimpsed the flicker of light.

He raised his head.

He stared.

There, he saw it! Light ahead!
Firelight!

Scraggles leaped to his feet.
Memories of the fireplace back home filled him. He could almost feel
that warmth again. A fire crackled ahead! The scent of smoke
wafted, rich and intoxicating in his nostrils, overpowering. Another
scent wafted beneath it; the scent of a traveler.

Master?

Scraggles ran.

He ran through the darkness.
His paws banged against a root, he fell hard onto the ground, then
leaped up and kept running. He followed the scent, and the light
grew ahead.

He raced around an oak and saw
it there.

A campfire.

A human sat there, shivering in
the cold.

Master?

Scraggles froze. He stood in
the shadows. He sniffed.

The human was grumbling and
rubbing shivering hands before the fire. Scraggles stared, frozen in
place, his tail straight like a branch. His nose twitched.

"Damn the stars and damn
the Legions and damn this stupid cold!" the human said and spat.

Scraggles didn't understand
those words, but the voice sounded angry.

It's
not Master's voice.

Disappointment
curdled in his belly like that time he'd eaten moldy cheese.
Scraggles took a step forward, keeping himself hidden in the shadows,
and stared more closely.

He'd have to be careful. Humans
could be dangerous. Scraggles had learned that in this forest. He
had come across humans here before. One had kicked him, and another
had drawn his sword and scared him off. Even back home, some humans
on the street would treat him cruelly, mocking him.

Some humans were friends, others
were foes. Scraggles did not understand humans well, but he knew
that much. He'd have to tread carefully here. If this one was a
friend, there might be food and warmth here. Or there might be
stones and kicks and swords.

He inched closer, crept around a
tree, and stared at the traveler by the campfire.

It was a young woman. She was
much smaller than his master. She was the size of a child—maybe
even smaller than Scraggles—but her face seemed older, the same age
as Master's face. She had short, brown hair that fell across her
brow. Her face was orange in the firelight, her nose upturned, and
her eyes dark.

A memory stirred in Scraggles.

He knew this one! He remembered
her scent.

The memories blazed so
powerfully he almost fell. In his mind, he was running along the
beach again. The sand flew from beneath his paws. The salty wind
filled his nostrils, rich with the scent of fish, crabs, and
seawater. He ran through the waves, lapping the salty water and
spitting it out, and rolling through the sand. And she was there
too. This young woman with short hair would pet him, feed him
scraps, and wrestle him in the sand.

She was from home!

"Good pup!" she had
said on the beach, hugging him. "Good pup. You love your Aunt
Erry, don't you?"

Scraggles burst into a run.

He leaped from the shadows,
raced around the campfire, and stood panting before the woman.

She gasped. Her eyes widened.
Scraggles froze, hesitating, not sure she would remember him. He
wanted to leap onto her, but waited, a hint of fear still inside him.

Erry rubbed her eyes and
blinked.

"Merciful stars!" she
blurted out, squinted, and tilted her head. "I'm dreaming!
Scraggles?"

It was her.

Scraggles grinned, leaped onto
her, and began licking her face.

"Burn me!" she said,
laughed, and fell onto the forest floor. "Scraggles, what the
Abyss are you doing here? Is Rune here?"

He leaped onto her, licking her
face and wrestling her and not letting her rise. She laughed,
ruffled his fur, and finally pushed him off.

"Bloody stars, Scraggles, I
was sure you were a wolf or outlaw or something." She looked
around at the dark forest. "Cadport must be leagues from here.
Are you lost? Where's Rune?"

Scraggles panted, tail wagging
furiously. He didn't understand all of that. But he knew that
Cadport was the name of his home. And he knew that Rune was the name
of his master. She was asking about them. She wanted to find Master
too, he realized.

Thinking of Master, his joy left
him. Ice filled his belly, and he gave a plaintive yowl.

Erry's eyes softened. She
sighed.

"You're
lost too, aren't you, Scrags?" she said. She scrunched her
lips, tapped her chin, and looked up at the trees. "Bollocks,
old boy, but I've only been walking for three days. We must be
leagues and leagues away from Cadport,
days
away." She frowned at him. "How the Abyss did you make it
this far?"

He panted, leaped onto her
again, and nuzzled her cheek. He wanted to tell her so much. He
wanted to speak like humans, to tell her of the long days in the
forest, the Old Wheel burning, and the pretty woman stealing Rune.
Never before had Scraggles wished for the gift of speech so badly.
He tried to talk now, giving a rumbling whine. Whenever he attempted
speech back at home, Master would laugh and pat him, but Erry only
sighed.

"Oh Scrags, what are you
trying to tell me?" She raised her voice and cried out. "Rune!
Rune, are you out here? Stars, Rune!"

The wolves answered. Their
howls surrounded the camp. Erry closed her mouth, hissed, and
grabbed the hilt of her sword. Scraggles tensed, his tail shot out
like an arrow, and he growled.

"I think," Erry
whispered, "we better be a little more quiet." She took a
step closer to the campfire, keeping her hand on her sword. "Stay
close to the fire, Scraggles. Wolves fear fire. But you're brave,
aren't you?"

The wolf howls continued for
long moments before dying off. Erry remained standing for a while
longer, staring around, then finally sat down. She rummaged through
her pack and pulled out bread rolls, smoked sausages, and cheese.

"It's not much," Erry
said, "and it's all the food I have left." She sighed. "I
was going to save half for breakfast tomorrow, but damn it,
Scraggles, you look thinner than fish bones."

Scraggles salivated and his
belly rumbled. The scent of the food filled his nostrils and his
head swam with hunger.

"Here, you old mutt,"
Erry said, sighed, and gave him a bread roll. "Eat it."

Drooling more than he ever had,
Scraggles scarfed it down.

They shared the rest of the food
in silence. Erry had a canteen of water too, and she let Scraggles
drink half. When their meal was done, they lay down by the fire.
The trees creaked, the wind moaned, and they huddled close for
warmth. Scraggles sneaked under her cloak, tossed a leg across her,
and licked her cheek.

"God, Scrags, your breath
stinks," Erry said. "Breathe the other way!" She
pushed his head away, then sighed. "Oh, Scrags, what are we
even doing here? We're both lost. We both have no idea where to
go."

Scraggles didn't understand
that, but he knew she was sad. He could hear it in her voice. He
nuzzled her with his nose, trying to comfort her, and she rubbed his
neck.

"We'll figure something
out," she said. Her voice cracked and her eyes dampened. "I
promise you. We can't go back to Cadport. There are too many
soldiers there. I bet that's why you escaped." She sniffed.
"And we can't go back to the Legions anymore, not after what I
did; they'd bloody hang me for that. Looks like it's just you and me
in the forest from now on, pup."

Scraggles whimpered and shut his
eyes. Erry sighed and held him close. The fire died to embers.
They slept.

 
 
LERESY

He was drinking around the
campfire with his men, singing old war songs, when his guards dragged
in the kicking, muddy girl.

They had been living in the
woods for many days now, never staying in one place for more than a
night. A thousand gruff, loud men who loved to sing and burn bright
campfires, they hid about as well as a naked prostitute among
priestesses. And so Leresy had been driving them southward day by
day. When the clouds offered cover, they flew. When the skies were
clear, they walked under the forest canopy. When darkness fell, they
drank and sang the nights away. League by league, they moved south,
away from the capital, away from the emperor.

He'll
come after me soon,
Leresy knew.
My
father will not tolerate me stealing a thousand of his soldiers.
He'll send an army after me. Maybe he already has.
The thought tickled him.
Let
him come! I'll slay him and his men.

And so they sang in the dark
forest, raised smoke from a hundred fires, and kept their armor on
and their swords polished.

"Let Frey Cadigus fly
here!" Leresy cried in the night. He drank deeply from his mug
of ale. "Let him come and die in our fire."

He stumbled toward his campfire
where a suckling boar was roasting. Leresy laughed to see it. The
poor beast had a spit stuck up its bottom, and an apple filled its
mouth. Fat and juices dripped into the embers below. Leresy
imagined his father and sister roasting in his camp. They too were
pigs. He would shove spits up their bottoms too and cook them alive.
He gave the boar a turn, allowing the fire to roast its back.

"Tonight we drink and
dine!" he shouted and waved his mug. "By the moon's turn,
we will reach the sea, men. We fly south to unknown lands! We fly
to Terra Incognita where no dragon has ever flown. We will claim the
wild lands and live like kings!"

They cheered and waved mugs.

"My father claims he slew
all other races, purifying the world," Leresy continued. "But
I say he lies! I say many foreign women still live—lush, nubile
women of the southern wilderness." His men cheered, and Leresy
raised his voice. "We will be explorers, and we will find them!
They are waiting for true men of the north to bed them. We will
make them ours!"

The men howled.

One of them stood up, a gaunt
and tall man named Yorne. His hair was brown and shaggy, his face
weathered, and his forearms tattooed with dragons.

"To Leresy!" he
announced, raised his mug, and drank.

Leresy raised his own mug in
salute. "We are Leresy's Lechers!" he said. "We are
an army. We will rule the wild lands overseas, and if my father
flies against us, we will roast his head upon our fires."

They were carving the boar,
opening another cask of ale, and singing hoarsely when the guards
dragged the girl into the camp.

"Let me go, you reeking,
toad-warted sons of whores!" the girl was screaming, floundering
in the grip of the guards. "Let me go now, maggots, or I'll gut
you like fish and piss on your graves!"

Leresy blinked, rubbed his eyes,
and couldn't help but laugh. The young woman was barely larger than
a child, her face still fresh with youth. Her cheeks were red, and
mud caked her short hair. Her wrists were tied behind her back, and
Leresy's guards manhandled her forward. The girl kicked and screamed
and tried to bite, but could not free herself.

"You yeasty, sheep-bedding
halfwits!" she shouted, tossing her head from side to side.
"Face me like men, you puny boy-loving eunuchs! I'll crush you
like the worms that you are."

The guards kept dragging her
forward, moving between the campfires until they stood before Leresy.
The girl kept screaming. A bruise spread beneath one of her eyes,
and her lip swelled.

"Lord Leresy!" one of
the guards said. "We caught this one slinking outside our camp.
A common thief. Probably wanted to steal food. She had a dog too,
but the mutt ran off."

"You are dogs!" the
girl screamed. "Your mothers were bitches and your fathers
pissed on walls!" She kicked wildly, held in midair. "Give
me back my sword, and I'll slice you into rat food!"

The men of his camp gathered
around and laughter roared. The young woman couldn't have weighed
more than a hundred pounds in armor, and even held above the ground,
her head barely reached the guards' shoulders. And yet she squirmed,
shouted, and kicked like an enraged bull.

"I know this one,"
Leresy said. He tapped his cheek, stepped closer to the girl, and
scrutinized her. "I've seen her before somewhere."