The Lost Dragon (Cycle of Dragons Book 3) Read online

  “Do you think they do?”

  He shrugged slightly, turning his head slowly and sniffing at the air. “Had you asked me even a year ago, I would’ve said no, but what I’ve seen over the last few months suggest to me they have some way of countering us that we haven’t seen before. If this were the Vard,” he raised a hand, keeping me from interfering, “they infiltrated the Academy. And then they infiltrated the city.”

  “I . . .” I nearly said what was on my mind, but when Manuel cocked his head to look at me with his dark intensity, I didn’t. “They failed both times.”

  He nodded. “They failed, but they very nearly succeeded.”

  He was right, and that bothered me, as well. Had the attack succeeded the first time, not only would my sister have been lost, but they would’ve taken a dragon. Given that I now understood the way the dragons connected, I feared that having access to even a single dragon would permit them to connect to other dragons, at least with the right person. Not all dragon mages had the ability to connect to the dragons in the same way. That was a unique ability—one I had, but one that others at the Academy had not demonstrated. It gave me an advantage when working with the dragons, but it also left me with questions.

  I needed to try a different tactic.

  “How often do the Vard try that kind of attack?”

  This time, Manuel frowned, a deep expression that made his entire face look as if he were angry. “Not often, which is why this frequency is troubling. Every few years we get word of attempts, but rarely are they anything of significance. Never have they been anything quite like the most recent time.”

  “When was that?”

  “About a decade ago,” he said. “They hit the eastern border. It’s calm and quiet over there, so the king hadn’t expected anything to happen. When the Vard attacked, the people weren’t ready.”

  “What happened?”

  “Many died,” he said. “We did what we could, helped as much as we could, but unfortunately . . .”

  “What?”

  “Several cities were lost.”

  I frowned at him. “Why haven’t I heard of that before?”

  “The king doesn’t like that to get out. It’s not the kind of message he wants his people to hear. I mean, can you imagine if he were to acknowledge that the Vard were powerful enough to overthrow several of his eastern cities?”

  “Did he reclaim them?” Manuel didn’t answer, instead moving off to another tree, crouching down in front of it. “Did he reclaim them?” I asked again.

  “No,” he said.

  That was more than I’d heard about the Vard before. “He just left them to the Vard?”

  “No,” he said again.

  I frowned, but my realization from what he suggested struck me. “He destroyed the cities with the dragons.”

  Manuel traced his finger through the dirt, bringing it to his nose and sniffing before standing and wiping his hands on his pants again. “He couldn’t leave the cities to the Vard, Ashan. You have to know that.”

  “What about the people there?”

  “The people? After the Vard came through, there weren’t many left. They’re horrible. When you become a full dragon mage, you’ll see.”

  This time, I couldn’t bite my tongue. I thought of Joran’s sister, Tara, and his mother, both Vard sympathizers. That wasn’t the kind of thing they’d do. They wouldn’t instigate an attack on the kingdom. Not one where the people were brutalized.

  “We haven’t seen that in Berestal.”

  “Because you’ve been lucky,” he said.

  “No . . .”

  I tried thinking about my experience with the Vard. They had a presence in Berestal, but none of them had attempted to attack, and they certainly hadn’t done anything to kill others. They wanted to gain influence with other citizens within Berestal.

  What would Vard be like as conquerors?

  My experience with the attack on the caravan that had captured my sister had certainly intended to suggest they were heartless, willing to take and harm others, and willing to kill in order for them to steal from the king.

  But they weren’t Vard.

  “Did he rebuild?”

  “The cities have been rebuilt, or at least have started to rebuild, and they are much more heavily fortified than they were before. They will not fall again.”

  “Which means the Vard won’t attack those cities again,” I said.

  “Probably not,” Manuel said.

  “Where do you think they will attack?”

  Manuel headed to another tree, leaning toward it. “Do you know there’s much that you can learn from the scent of the forest? I’ve often found the texture of trees intriguing. There’s something about it that gives off a distinct feeling. The trees here are different than they are near Berestal, and much different than those in the Wilds.”

  The change of topic jarred me. “Manuel?”

  “I’ve often wondered why,” he said.

  I frowned, shaking my head, not sure where Manuel was going, or why he was going on like that, but perhaps he’d been away too long. He traveled away from the city for long stretches at a time, often by himself, with only the mesahn for company. Maybe that had turned him into something different, a bit more crazed than most.

  “The only reason I can come up with that accounts for the difference between the trees is the difference in the geography of the place they grow, but even within a similar place, there are distinct differences between the trees themselves.” Manuel stopped in front of one, running his hands along its smooth bark. “Even within this forest, so close to the capital, you can feel the energy of this tree, the way its bark feels different and distinct from trees in other places. You can feel its distinctness if you take the time to trace your hand along its bark.”

  He stepped up to the side, waiting, and I realized he wanted me to do the same thing.

  I joined him at the tree, touching the bark, tracing a hand along it. It was smooth, soft, almost velvety. It was distinctly different than the trees within the forest near the edge of my homeland, though I had already discovered that. When I had first come to the capital, I had ventured into the forest, curiosity bringing me out here. This forest was connected to the forest within my homeland, but it was different, as well. The Djarn lived in both, at least as far as I had been able to determine, and there was an energetic feeling to it, a bit of power that was different from anything else I had encountered in the capital and the Academy.

  “Even here,” Manuel went on, “the trees are different. Each one is different. Individual. Unique.”

  “Like people,” I said.

  Manuel nodded, smiling. “Like people. Perhaps that is all it is. Each tree has a uniqueness to it.”

  “What does that have to do with the Vard?”

  “The city is unique, as well,” he said, glancing over to me.

  “I suppose that’s true.”

  “The city is tied to the land on which the Vard live. The land has characteristics that influence those people, much like the land around the forest influences the trees that grow there. Each place brings different power and different connections.”

  “Does this have anything to do with where the next attack might be? It was so strange how the attackers tried to make the last assault look like the Djarn. Not the Vard—"

  “There is some commonality, though,” Manuel said, ignoring my question. “You can see the leaves are similar. The characteristics of the shape of the tree are similar. Even the smells are similar—especially as you visit this part of the forest, places where these trees have grown strong and proud.”

  I watched Manuel, not at all understanding what he was getting at, or what he was trying to share with me, and feeling a bit amused at the change in topic, almost as if he didn’t want to tell me about the Vard or where he thought they might attack. With Manuel, if he didn’t want to tell me, he simply would not.

  This was different though. He seemed to want to tell
me something, but wanted to do it in his own unique way.

  “Much like within the capital. The people here share a common heritage. For the most part, at least,” he said, glancing over to me and smiling. “Most have known nothing other than the kingdom and the protection of the dragons and the king for their entire lives. Other places have known other experiences, and those experiences have taught them differently.”

  I finally thought I understood where he was going with this. “You mean like in Berestal where there are some who still support the Vard.”

  “Not only in Berestal,” he said.

  “So you think the next attack is going to be somewhere the Vard have a connection?”

  He ran his hand along the tree, almost caressing it. “I’m not sure. When they attacked in the eastern border, there were some Vard within those cities. Not so many that there should have been supporters to take them in, but enough that we had been aware of their presence and the threat they posed to the kingdom.”

  “Are there other cities like that?”

  “Some,” he said, nodding.

  “Like Berestal.”

  Manuel glanced over, nodding. “Berestal would be one.”

  “Would the king destroy Berestal the way he destroyed the eastern border cities?”

  Manuel took a deep breath, sniffing at the air for a moment before whistling softly. I could hear the shuffling of the mesahn as he came bounding back toward us, though I didn’t see him until he was almost upon us. When he arrived, Manuel rested his hand on the mesahn’s fur, petting him, tracing his fingers through its fur. “I hope not.”

  “Hope?”

  “Much would be lost if he treats Berestal the same as he did the others,” he said. “Not only is Berestal our westernmost city, but it connects us to a place we can’t connect to otherwise.”

  “You fear losing the Wilds? I’d be more afraid of losing Berestal.”

  “I fear losing both. I’d fear what it means. And I fear how that might empower the Vard even more.”

  “Manuel . . .”

  Manuel tapped on the back of the mesahn before looking up at me. “Continue learning, Ashan. You might be needed sooner than you realize.”

  “I’ve already been needed. I suspect I’d be needed again.”

  Manuel just nodded again. “In that, you’re correct. Study with Thomas, master your connection to the dragons, and be ready for whatever might come. It might be sooner than we prefer.”

  He started off toward the forest, and I knew better than to follow him. It didn’t take long for Manuel to disappear into nothing more than shadows. I focused on the dragons in the distance, searching for any that might be out in the forest and whether I could detect anything from them, but the connection was faint and faded.

  Even if I could find the dragons, I didn’t know if they would be of any assistance with tracking Manuel; I wanted to follow him so I could know where he was going and what he did.

  In this case, it might be better for me to ignore his whereabouts.

  The only problem was that I couldn’t ignore what he had said, and as I made my way through the forest, heading back to the city, I was troubled in a way I hadn’t been in quite some time. Even after the attack on the caravan leading away from Berestal, I hadn’t been this troubled. The attack on the capital had been committed by a single individual, one that was devious and dangerous, but not coordinated.

  What Manuel suggested as a possibility . . .

  It meant people I cared about might be in danger.

  I wondered whether Thomas would permit me to leave to check on them.

  Even if he didn’t, I might not have any choice but to go.

  I’d certainly seen the effect of an attack, and had seen the violence some were willing to inflict. But they hadn’t been Vard. There was another force at play. I wasn’t willing to stand by and wait for that force to do that to people I cared about, and wasn’t willing to watch as the king destroyed the place I had grown up just to destroy the Vard.

  Where did that put me though?

  I reached the edge of the forest, looking out upon the kingdom, the capital, and the Academy on the outskirts. The stone building looked so bleak and desolate in the late afternoon sun, a strange contrast to the energy it typically exuded, almost as if it were trying to tell me something.

  It was trying to warn me. I served the king. That was my role. That was why I had come to the city, and why I trained, and why I now understood my connection to the dragons. If I abandoned that, then I was abandoning what had brought me here in the first place.

  I took my time heading back, heavy thoughts weighing on me.

  3

  The bars of the dragon pen were stout. Made of thick bars of metal, many of them engraved with symbols that marked the dragons, they stretched high overhead, easily twenty feet tall. They seemed to create a cage to confine the dragons, though the pen was open to the sky, allowing them to come and go as they pleased. It protected them from people who might come close, rather than protecting people from the dragons. Several dragons were within the pen, curled up, and most were resting. They would come and go, leaving to hunt then returning—all of them connected to the kingdom. Many of them were part of the cycle with me.

  I leaned against the bars, resting my hands upon the thick metal, peering into the dragon pen. The small green dragon—not quite as small as he had been before, now that he was connected to the dragons and seemed to feed off of that connection—curled up near the center of the clearing, though he was aware of me. I knew he was.

  I focused on the connection I shared with the dragons, feeling the way energy cycled through me, and could feel the power as it flowed out from the green dragon to me, and then out from there to the other dragons. It was a continuous cycle of power, one I no longer broke. It was as if I were constantly connected to the dragons. I wondered if I could even sever that connection if I had to, though at this point, there was no reason for me to do so.

  I traced a finger of fire up the bars, around, and then back down. It was a fine, thin band of flame that crackled, giving off a hint of heat, though not so much that it was overwhelming. I could feel its power as it crawled along the bars, and could feel the way that it pressed up against the metal; I was able to keep it there with the control I had gained over the last few months.

  After standing there for a while, I began to move the flame from one bar to the next. It was practice, the kind sanctioned by the Academy, permitting me to use my power as a way of testing it. The bars were fortified with dragon mage energy to ensure they couldn’t be destroyed by something as simple as a band of flame like this, so I didn’t fear damaging anything here.

  “You’ve been standing there for the last hour,” a voice said behind me.

  I tamped down the energy—knowing better than to release it suddenly—and glanced over my shoulder. Natalie approached. She had dark hair, dark skin, and a fluid movement to her gait. Now that I knew she was one of the Djarn, my impression of her had changed.

  Before Natalie, I had only seen one of the Djarn, and had never actually interacted with any of them. My friend Joran had some experience with them, or at least his father had. His experience was different though. Knowing one of the Djarn, and knowing that they were . . . so normal . . . was altogether different than what I’d believed my entire life to this point.

  As I was growing up, we’d viewed the Djarn as having an almost mythical quality, as if they were something impossible to believe. I still held this perspective, to a certain extent. Having been around Natalie, and having learned she had an element of power different from my own, but still similar, I couldn’t help but feel that way.

  “I’ve been thinking . . .” I said.

  “Always dangerous for a man like yourself,” she said, joining me at the dragon pen. The ground here was a well-worn path, having been trampled by so many people, including myself, walking around the dragon pen over the years. She glanced over to the dragons, and for a moment,
I thought I could detect a hint of power rolling through her, but then it faded. If it was there, it was faint enough that I couldn’t fully detect it.

  “I ran into an old friend of mine out in the forest,” I said. “He’s concerned about the Vard.”

  Natalie looked over to the forest, frowning softly. “Which means you are.”

  “I don’t know if this is the Vard or something else,” I admitted. I didn’t want to mislead Natalie, though she’d done that with me.

  Natalie regarded me for a moment, eyes etched with concern. “The Vard have had an intriguing connection to the people over the years,” she said. “It hasn’t always been what we think it should be.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “There was a time when the Vard worked peacefully with my people,” she said. There was a hint of sadness in her voice, and she glanced over to me, shaking her head. “That time was so long ago, I don’t really know about it. It was before me. Before my father, even. Something changed, and my people don’t like to talk about it.”

  “Is it why you sent emissaries to work with the king?”

  She forced a smile, turning her attention to the dragons. She didn’t answer, much like she hadn’t answered the other times that I had tried to understand the situation.

  There was something secretive about the reason behind her and her father’s presence—or perhaps only her father’s. As far as I had been able to determine, they were here as emissaries for the Djarn, and I suspected that was so the Djarn wasn’t oppressed by the kingdom. It was strange though. I couldn’t help but wonder why the Djarn hadn’t made their influence known within the kingdom. The king obviously knew about them, but it seemed to me that others did not.

  “When I first came to the city, I wondered if the dragons resented their confinement,” Natalie said softly.

  “They aren’t confined here. Not really.” I nodded to the open air. “It’s more to protect others from getting close to the dragons. It gives them a place to gather peacefully, not to fear others coming to them.”

  She glanced over to me. “It might feel that way to you, but what do you think it feels like to the dragons?”