Dragon Bonds (Return of the Darkening Series Book 3) (16 page)

“The Ghoul became less of a man with each passing year. His power grew and his rule stretched out until it covered every tribe. The Wildmen had lost their freedom.

“And then one day a dragon appeared—a great gold dragon from the south. Upon it rode a man, and the Wildmen had never seen such a thing. A man riding a dragon? How was that possible?

“This First Rider was not alone—others rode dragons and came with him. He led his army and flights of dragons to the north, bringing dragon fire, his sword and bright magic to everything in his path.

“The Wildmen tribes fell back into the mountains. The Ghoul shed his mortal followers like leaves. Only the most terrible of his dragons—and those who had lost all the light inside them—stayed with him. From the hills, the Wildmen watched.

“A great battle raged for three days and three nights. Dragons broke apart the backs of the mountains with lightning and thunder. It seemed as if the world itself would break apart. But the First Rider came not just with dragons and his army—magic came with him. The bright magic spread over the land, freeing those who could not remember or who had gone mad. The Wildmen were free again to fight for their lands, for their people, and to drive off the Ghoul and his terrible army.

“Only the cost was truly great.

“Many fell—shamans and elders, warriors and even children. And just when it seemed as if the Wildmen would all die, the First Rider came to our aid.

“He and his dragon and his own wise men and riders stood between the Ghoul and the end of all. The First Rider held up a hand, and in it glinted a stone as blinding as the sun, as white as first snow, and as small as an egg. He held it high and the Ghoul and his army could not stand the light.

“At last the Ghoul ran and vanished, but when the Wildmen gathered to thank the First Rider for saving our lands and our people, they found him torn almost apart, weakened in his mind and as old as if had aged a thousand years in just minutes. He was near death. And so were his riders and his wise men.

“They lay on the battlefield like old men. Only the Wildmen of the mountains were left standing. But we knew we had been freed by the First Rider, for he had life enough to say his name was King Torvald and to tell us to carry his story with us forever so that this would never happen again.

‘It is said he lived for three days and three nights—just as the battle had gone on for that time. But no one—not shaman or elder—could help him. In that time, he spoke of the dragons, teaching us how to heal them, how to work with them and be one with them. He gave us the blood-ties with his own blood.

“And then he died, and the Wildmen buried the First Rider by the shore of Lake of Hjolnir, the sacred center of the world, for never has anyone ever done so much for our people.” Thorri ended her story with a soft sigh.

I looked around to see Seb, Varla and Merik facing her in rapt amazement.

“The First Rider’s Tomb—that could be just what we need to find,” Varla whispered.

“It could be close. It’s been hidden in the north all along,” Seb said.

Beris and Syl swapped glances, and Beris muttered, “Great—more wild chases.”

I sat there, staring at the fire as it crackled. I couldn’t quite come to grips with the fact that this was the clue we had needed. I’d sought to talk to the Wildmen because I thought we might at least be able to convince them to fight Lord Vincent with us. Now I could see there were much stronger forces at work that connected us.

The monks of the Draconis Order had never had the King’s Dragon Stone. It had been lost in battle, and lost with the First Rider.

Varla sat up straight. “That’s why that shrine we found to the First Rider had runes on it. Because the Wildmen knew him. He’s their hero as much as he is one to us.”

“Yes, the First Rider is a great hero to our people.” Thorri nodded. “He showed us how to fight, how to be fierce, as well as freeing us from the Ghoul. But now it seems the Ghoul is returned, as our greatest shaman said he would one day, and despite all the First Rider did for us. That is what happens when the old stories are not told often enough.”

“You are right, Thorri. The Darkening, or what you call the Ghoul, has returned. Only this time it wears the face of a noble called Lord Vincent. He has much of the old powers that you described—but just as in the old times, we have much as well.”

That was a bit of a stretch.

I glanced around at the two dozen Wildmen, at our handful of Dragon Riders, and our mixed bag of trained dragons and wild ones. But I stood up and spoke to everyone. “Just like in ancient times, we have dragons of every color and we have the union of two peoples—the Wildmen and the Dragon Riders. We are all following the footsteps of the First Rider. To his example of bravery and tenacity we will be true. We can defeat the Darkening if we do so together!”

A mighty cheer rose up. It seemed the Wildmen appreciated a good speech. They were proclaiming vengeance on Lord Vincent even as I sat down.

“Good words, Flamma,” Beris whispered. He stood, but leaned down to say, “But how are we going to do all of what you just said?”

I didn’t know, but at least I had an idea of where to start. Turning to Thorri, I asked, “Could you describe the Lake of Hjolnir? Do you know where the First Rider now rests?”

Thorri frowned. “The Wildmen do not keep maps. We keep stories. I could tell you the old tales and rhymes. But some say the Lake of Hjolnir is nothing more than a myth. No one I have ever known has gone to the First Rider’s Tomb.”

I shrugged. “Well, now you know someone who is going to try.”

I
t didn’t take long
for Thea to work out a full truce with Thorri, and the Wildmen were eager to learn more of our Dragon Riding techniques. Beris wasn’t happy about that—he kept grumbling that this could be all the Wildmen wanted—to learn from us and then they’d cut our throats. But we had two black dragons in need of riders, and these Wildmen really seemed to hate Lord Vincent even more than we did.

We started training the next day.

Merik and Varla had Thorri and a couple of the older Wildmen sit down with them to talk about maps and landmarks to try and get an idea of what lake in the north might be the Lake of Hjolnir. There were more lakes than were even on our maps—and we had huge areas of the north that had never really been mapped. Beris and Syl had no interest in training Wildmen, but they were willing to keep watch for the Darkening. That left me and Thea to do the training—and Thea just didn’t have the patience for it.

At first, the Wildmen thought nothing of yelling at the dragons, who ignored them. It took some time for me to convince the Wildmen they could just ask the dragons to do things. The black dragons would only hiss back, but they would also fly better. They all reminded me of brawling drunkards after a night in the tavern. We spent most of the day just getting Scratch and Hiss to hold still long enough to let the Wildmen swing up. Usually one of the blacks would stand quietly and the other would buck up into the sky, dumping the rider.

At last, one bearded Wildman was able to cling to Scratch’s back. And another Wildman—a man with an even longer beard that reached to his waist and who could growl and snarl fiercer than any dragon—actually started to make Hiss behave.

Maybe these Northern people and their wild dragons make the perfect match
.

Kalax’s thought came right after my own.
And maybe now three nations of Dragon Riders.

Kalax was right about that. But she was also still wary around both the Wildmen and the wild dragons—she could smell the urge for blood on them and did not like how noisy they were at night.

Always drinking! Always loud!

She had grumbled that most of last night.

Feradima had decided to start teaching Scratch and Hiss some manners, and she would slap them with her tail if they got too wild or noisy. Gaxtal preferred to act more like Beris and simply pretended the wild dragons didn’t exist.

At the end of three days, I was starting to feel good enough that I told Thea we could start the search for the tomb of the First Rider. And Varla had a direction for us to take—north, toward the higher mountains where most of the lakes of the north lay. It wasn’t exactly a destination, but we might as well start since we were looking at several days of flying.

We rose early on the third day, broke camp and headed out. Merik took the lead on Feradima. Beris and Syl on Gaxtal followed, and Kalax with me on her back brought up the back to keep an eye out for the Darkening.

Below us, I could barely glimpse the Wildmen as they found paths through the trees of the foothills. They were as skilled at hiding as the black dragons. Thea and Varla had chosen to stay on the ground to keep the Wildmen with us, and the black dragons seemed to dart everywhere—sometimes flying up with Feradima and sometimes falling back to fly with Kalax.

I wondered if Thea was missing being up in the sky, but it seemed to me that Thea was enjoying her time with Thorri. The two had been staying up late every night, talking by the fire. I was hoping the friendship would hold, but Beris’ worries bled into me. What if the Wildmen weren’t to be trusted?

I heard a snarl of frustration and looked to see Beris’ face tense as he glanced back. I was rather beginning to think he woke up annoyed these days. A tension rode his shoulders that wouldn’t go away. Right now he shouted at wild dragon and the bearded rider who was following Gaxtal, “Get away with you! Not so close!”

I was sure that Beris was overreacting right now—the black didn’t look that close. But I kept a sliver of my awareness connected with each of the wild dragons to remind them I was alpha leader.

You?
Kalax’s thought carried a touch of dry amusement.

Okay, we are
, I thought back to her.

Now that the wild dragons had riders, I’d started pulling back from their minds. It was a relief to have someone else trying to get the ferocious creatures to do as they were asked, and these riders needed a chance to bond with their dragons.

“I said get back!” Beris yelled again at the Wildman on Hiss. I started to imagine either a mid-air collision or a spat between dragons was coming.

Before it could, Syl called out, “Down with your right knee! Like this!” He leaned down to one side.

The Wildman on Hiss copied him, and Hiss glided to the right, moving away from Gaxtal. It was a pretty basic, easy move, one every cadet learns. You have to use your knees, feet, heels and hips to get a dragon to move.

Do you, now?
Kalax growled in my mind.

I grinned at her and scratched a spot on her scales that always seemed to be itchy because the saddle left it sweaty. “Not us—we move as one.”

Kalax and I had become so entwined that it felt as though either one of us could just think the direction and the other would already be in motion.

“Good job, Syl!” I called out. To my surprise, he gave me a grin and a thumbs up

We carried on flying north and sometimes a little east, looping back every now and again so we wouldn’t get too far ahead of those on the ground. Varla used flags to signal us, and toward sunset she marked the camp site for us.

Kalax and I were the last to land. I wanted in the sky as long as I could, not just to enjoy the setting sun, but to make certain no trace of the Darkening was near. Kalax could sense them in the far distance, but it seemed Lord Vincent and his forces had other battles to keep them busy. I worried for those who might be caught up in his path. That had me thinking of my family—and of Thea’s family, too.

Trying to shrug off the worries, I asked Kalax to land.

Our path was taking us ever deeper into the wilds, through rocky valleys and high passes, with white-capped mountains rising on either side. If the Wildmen were leading us into a trap, it would be a good one. For I had never seen any map of this area. We would soon need to figure out just where we were heading.

* * *

W
e made
camp in the last scraggly lines of forest on the edge of a boulder field, right below a high pass through the northern mountains. The ground had started to freeze at night, but the Wildmen had assured us it would be warmer on the other side of the mountains. We had seen nothing of the Darkening, so we felt safe to light bright, warm fires that illuminated the wind-stunted forest. It seemed as though we were the last people in the whole world.

And perhaps we are.

That thought was a little too grim, so I gave up searching the black horizon for any sign of life or light. We had flown so far north that I doubted anyone from the Middle Kingdom had ever seen what we were seeing now.

You forget the First Rider.

Kalax was right. I gave a laugh.

Thea looked up from the map she had spread out on the ground. “What? Did Kalax say something? Why do I miss all the good jokes?”

“I was just thinking we might be the first Dragon Riders from the Middle Kingdom to come this way since the First Rider and his army.”

Thea groaned. “That is not a comforting thought. Come here and take a look at this, Seb. You know I’m useless at mapping.”

“That’s why you have a navigator.” I happily gave up looking at the darkness and sat on a scrap of blanket beside her to look over the map. It was one of the few Varla had scavenged from the map tower.

“According to Thorri, the sacred lake and tomb of the First Rider is at the center of the world, but this puts Torvald at the center of everything. It just makes no sense.”

“Well, Torvald is the center of
our
world, not theirs. Remember Arkady and his family? He said there are many lands, some that are even beyond the mountains and the seas.”

That idea, which interested me, didn’t look as though it had particularly pleased Thea. “Great. More places to search,” she muttered.

“Not necessarily.” I waved at the map. “The story Thorri told put this sacred lake at the center of the world. Well, for our world, Torvald is the center. That’s the heart of the Middle Kingdom. So where is the heart of the Wildmen? What’s the center of their world?”

Thea shrugged and glanced at the mountains. Firelight flickered over her face and put even more red into her hair. “The northern mountains, I guess?”

I turned back to our map. It was a Torvald map, so the Dragon Spine Mountains were the main focus, but it showed where the Dragon’s Spine descended into the Southern Realm and reached up into the north. “If this really is the length of the mountains…” I walked my fingers over the paper to a point on the map where the mountains seemed like just faint lines. “Then I think that about here must be the center of the Wildmen’s world.” I walked my fingers back a little to a point where the map showed broad plateaus and the high pass. “We must be about here.”

Varla came over with meat that the Wildmen had hunted and cooked. She held out a stick of roast to Thea, who shook her head, and one to me. I wasn’t hungry either, but I took the meat. My stomach hadn’t been handling food well, lately, and my leather jerkin was starting to hang loose on me.

Eyes bright, Varla nodded at the map. “I’m not sure that will help us. The Wildmen know this land better than any of our mapmakers ever did. And I’ve been listening to more of their stores and going back over our trusty Runes of Hroth the Druid.”

I groaned. “I hope Hroth isn’t going to send us to the ocean—or to the east now.”

She grinned. “You should respect your elders a little more. Hroth never went to the Lake of Hjolnir, but he did write about it.” She made a face, bit off some meat and kept talking as she chewed. ”He didn’t mention the First Rider in conjunction with it, but the lake is said to be on a plateau, high in the mountains, with sheer cliff walls that fall down from either side.”

Thea and I swapped glances and I knew she was thinking that same thing—that did sound like the place we needed to find.

Varla finished her meat and threw her stick aside. Hanging out with the Wildmen was starting to ruin her table manners. “Now before you get too excited, there is a catch.”

“Isn’t there always?” I asked.

Varla shot me a sideways look, but she kept talking. “Hroth said the lake was guarded by enchantments and spells set down because this is sacred ground. The only way to gain entrance is to fly to the summit and have ten dragons roar all at once. Oh, and it must be under a full moon.”

“What?” Thea asked, looking skeptical.

“I know.” Varla let out a long breath. “Hroth didn’t think much of that part of the story, either. He discounted that as just a tale to keep anyone away. And it sounds crazy, but considering everything else that has happened what with magic stones and ancient Ghouls and…well, everything, I think we had better listen to the legend and not Hroth.”

“Let’s just hope it isn’t true,” I murmured, looking up at the sky. “If it is, we’re a little under five days away from the full moon and we only have eight dragons, and that’s including Scratch and Hiss!”

The night seemed suddenly colder. I gave a shiver and wondered if I could feed Kalax my meat. I just couldn’t eat. Even if we found two more wild dragons, I wasn’t sure I could manage them. Scratch and Hiss were doing better with their riders, but I still had to keep a thread of awareness with them. With another shiver, I got up and went to feed Kalax my dinner and try to rest as much as I could. But I knew the Dragon Affinity was draining the life from me.