Dragonbound, p.14
DragonBound, page 14
A short, stocky man dressed in drab robes waved his crook at a much taller man. He jutted his face forward, his small goatee beard prominent, and spat something, and the taller man jerked back and then shook his fist in the air. The voices became shriller and the sheep continued to mingle, caging in Kerris and other travellers trying to cross.
Kerris grinned and then hopped up onto the bridge wall and ran across the narrow railing, oblivious of the horrified stares of the trapped people, one of whom peered over the edge at the slow-moving water and visibly shuddered.
Jumping off the wall, he whistled loudly, and spreading his arms, herded the sheep across the bridge. “Where do you want them?” he yelled over the bleating, and the short man broke off from his argument and pointed to the corrals opposite the tent market lining the crossroads.
“B3,” he replied, and Kerris gave him a thumbs up, and chivying the sheep in the direction the man had indicated, he chased them down the street.
Kerris caught the last stubborn stray and bundled it into the corral as the shepherd arrived. The man observed him for a moment. His face was creased with many lines, his hair grey and straggly, but his black eyes were bright. “You looking for work?”
“Depends,” Kerris replied. “I need to cross over to Puronia and return within a day. Does your business take you there?”
The man pursed his lips. “It didn’t. I hadn’t intended on going to Puronia as I can’t take the flock on my own.” He inspected Kerris. “But I’ll consider delivering my sheep to Puronia if an offer comes in and you’re available. Soulless, huh? Where will I find you?”
“Unless you’ll pay for a meal, right here, I suppose.”
The man’s sharp eyes flitted around the other pens. He rummaged in his pocket and produced a coin. “Go get something to eat, you’ll need it if you’re coming with me. Let me see who’s interested. If I haven’t come and found you by the time you’ve finished your food, return here. Ask for Avery. We’ll be going tonight, if we go at all.” He flipped the coin at Kerris.
Catching the coin, Kerris nodded. He would wait and see if the job came through. If not, at least he’d got a meal out of it and he could check out who else was intending to cross. As the day progressed, corrals slowly filled with other livestock and men and women bickered as if their lives depended on it, and for many, it probably did.
The inn took up all of the north corner of the crossroads, a large rambling building which was the only permanent structure in the constant tide of humans and animals that passed through.
“If you haven’t got the money, you don’t come in,” a stern voice preceded the heavy hand that grabbed Kerris’ shoulder. Kerris quickly displayed his coin, and the hand let go of him. “Hmrph,” the man snorted and then peered a little closer. “That will only get you a bowl of the stew.”
“Stew, bread, and a mug of water,” Kerris replied.
“Nothing else, and you leave once you’ve finished.”
“Fair enough.” Kerris handed over his coin and found a small table in a shadowed corner. When the food arrived, he inhaled the rising steam and his mouth watered. He hadn’t eaten properly since the day before he went to the market. Three days of borderline starving made his stomach ache and his head a little floaty. So he sat quietly in the corner and tried to eat his stew as slowly as possible, revelling in the heat created by so many bodies and the relief of warm food in his belly.
He looked up in surprise as another dish replaced his empty one. A plump woman smiled down at him. “A slice of my berry pie. On the house.” She winked and wended her way through the tables. Kerris dug in before anyone could take it away.
Sighing, he patted his very full stomach. He wasn’t sure he could move. A pleasant sense of satisfaction suffused him as he observed the room. It was getting busier as farmers concluded their business. He would be turfed out soon, but he lingered, pretending he was part of the community for just a moment longer.
Memories surfaced of sunny fields and glossy livestock. The lush smell of sun-warmed grass and his older brother’s happy face as they mock sparred. He forced the memory away and stood up. They were best forgotten.
Wending his way back towards the pen, the gloom thickened as the clouds darkened. A chill wind whipped the canvas tents causing them to creak and groan, and he hurried past.
An unacknowledged fear eased as he saw the sheep still penned. It had felt a little too easy. With everything that had happened, he’d expected to have trouble trying to cross the divide. He crossed his fingers, hoping against hope that the man had sold his sheep to someone in Puronia.
“Ah, well timed. I was about to come and find you. Five coppers and passage to and from Puronia for your assistance to get this flock to the abattoir in the south of the city. You’ll have at least six turns in the city before we need to return. Suit you?”
“Yes,” Kerris replied, and then he wondered if he should have negotiated the price. The shepherd needed his help; he might have paid a bit more. But really, he wasn’t doing it for the money, he just needed a legitimate excuse to cross.
“Excellent. Let’s get going then.”
Slave camp, Eidolon
Shandra flinched as the door slammed shut. Nothing in this place was quiet. Voices were loud and abrasive, commands were yelled, whips cracked and fists flew. Questions were never asked, only assumptions made with the worst possible outcome for the unfortunate soulless cowering in the mud.
Slamming doors were the least of her worries, but it was the one aggravation out of everything that set her on edge. The one thing she couldn’t ignore with her usual insolent glare. Muntra had warned her to tone it down, but she couldn’t. She was the only person who stood between the girls and them. If she wasn’t strong, if she wasn’t prepared to fight then who would?
The boys were all in a different barracks with their own issues to face. Wishing for a saviour to descend from the skies was not going stop those filthy, conniving slavers from grabbing her kids.
Sure that no one was coming for them, Shandra returned to shaving the end of a wooden splinter into a point and smoothing the edges so she could grip it. Kiara knelt beside her, sorting through the various items she had managed to dismantle or pilfer.
“Look, what about this? You could slot it in the end like an arrowhead.” Displaying a thin piece of metal in her hand, Kiara tilted her hand back and forth to show the sharp edge.
“What would we fix it with? We have no string.”
“I got some of that paste they used to…to shut that man’s mouth.”
Shandra glanced at the young girl beside her. She had thought none of the youngsters had been in the yard that day. The images still haunted her as the guards had made an example of a slave who had dared to speak out. He wouldn’t speak again or breathe.
Ragged and begrimed, Kiara looked about eight years old, but she was one of the older children Shandra had tried to protect, on the cusp of becoming a teen. Fortunately, her slight build made her look more like a boy and had kept leering eyes off her—so far.
Greasy hair hung in disgusting clumps around her face, and Shandra knew Kiara deliberately smeared herself with grease to help disguise the delicate features hidden under all the grime. That she knew enough to hide herself without being told to made Shandra want to spit and curse.
Shandra deliberately kept herself cleaner, not only to draw attention away from the others, but also to make them all look different. If they were all greasy lumps, the overseer would get suspicious.
“Be careful with that stuff. You don’t want to stick your fingers together. Keep it away from the younger kids. And anyway, where did you get it from?”
“Better you don’t know. This would be easier for a littley to use. Easier for them to slash than stab. Give them time to get away.”
Dear lord above, see what you’ve reduced us to? Out loud, Shandra said, “You should get some sleep. Aren’t you on early shift?” and stretched her aching back out. She had spent the day standing at a machine taller than her, feeding in lumps of rock that came out ground into a powder. Shandra had no idea what it was used for, but she had to fill so many sacks a day otherwise they docked her pay. Some of the smaller kids had to push the wheel to rotate the grinding stone. They all choked on the fine dust constantly hanging in the air and coating every surface it touched.
Keeping an eye on some of the smaller children as well as her own workload was beginning to wear her down; the younger kids never made quota and never got their full food ration. Even sharing her food didn’t put any meat on their bones, and they were all already listless and slow after just a few days.
One blow from the overseer would break them, and she thought he knew it too, because he always blamed her for any lapses. She had the welts and bruises to prove it. But she never flinched; she just stared him in the eye until he grunted and moved off again.
“I said I’d make one for Bailey. He is too pretty for his own good. Even smeared in grease they can’t take their eyes off him. I’m worried, Shandra. I don’t think he’s gonna last. If they take him…”
Shandra gripped her arm. “Don’t. Don’t say it. If you say it, it’ll happen.”
Eyes wide, Kiara nodded. “So I’m making him a blade.”
“You know if they catch him with it, it’ll be worse for him? And could get you into trouble too.”
“I don’t care. We look after each other.” A mulish expression spread over Kiara’s face as she worked. After a moment she said, “I was thinking of sabotaging the railing system.”
Exhaling, Shandra cast a worried glance at her. “Won’t they be suspicious?”
“Nah, they know it’s about to collapse; they’re waiting for it to fail.”
“I’d rather you didn’t. You are taking too many risks.”
“What else is there to do? We can’t sit around and do nothing. It’s only going to get worse. We have to plan a way to escape. None of us will survive here. Do we just wait for the littleys to die one by one?”
“Kerris will find Mav, and he’ll find us.”
Kiara huffed her breath out. “You don’t know if Kerris is even alive, let alone whether he will find Mav. He would have to cross the divide, and you know none of us have been near that place. He would have no idea how to get there or who to speak to.”
“He’s our only hope,” Shandra admitted, her voice almost a whisper.
“If I can disrupt the mine, what little organisation they have will disintegrate. It will be easier for us to search for a way out. We have to get out of here, Shandra, before it’s too late.”
Bending her head, Shandra squeezed her eyes shut. “Wait. Just another day. Let me see if Muntra has any ideas.”
A soft snort was her only response, but Kiara scooped up her treasures and disappeared into the gloom of the girl’s sleeping area.
19
DEMAVRIAN, CITADEL
Mav startled awake, gasping against the constriction in his chest. A shrill scream lingered in his ears, cut off abruptly. Solanji’s voice calling for him. A bad dream? Feeling unsettled, he got out of bed and went to pour a glass of water. Sipping his drink, he tried to calm his fluttering pulse.
“Solanji?” He threw her name out into the dark night on a whim, but nothing came back.
Heart thumping, he quickly dressed. Something wasn’t right. Grabbing his sword and sliding his knives into his belt, he flung open the door and paused on the threshold of his empty rooms. Adriz and Felather would be asleep, knowing he was safe in his chambers.
His breath stuttered as a swirl of golden mist formed into a small glowing dragon and hovered in the air before him. The dragon flew towards the door, and as it glanced back at him, Mav followed it. The SoulBreather’s familiar had come to find him. Solanji must be in dire trouble.
He hurried out of his study and down the adjoining corridor and banged on Adriz’s door, moving on to Felather’s and doing the same. The dragon hissed in agitation beside him. “We need more help,” he murmured as the little creature settled on his shoulder and nipped his ear.
“Did you hear her?” he asked as Adriz rushed out her door, already dressed with a sword in her hand.
Adriz stared at him, took a steadying breath, and said, “Hear who?”
“Solanji. She called for help. But I can’t reach her.”
“You heard Solanji call you for help? That’s not possible, unless…” Adriz hesitated, her eyes widening. “You didn’t,” she breathed.
“We did. Thank my dear father, we did. We exchanged oaths, and Kyrill won’t know she’s immortal. He’ll just try and kill her the usual way.”
“I doubt she’ll enjoy that any better,” Felather muttered as he joined them, buttoning up his shirt.
“Why didn’t you tell us she’s your oathsworn?” Adriz growled.
“You let her be dragged off by Kyrill when he has no claim?” Felather interrupted her, shock darkening his face.
“Solanji suggested it. A way to get someone on the inside.”
“You should have said no,” Adriz hissed as she led the way towards Kyrill’s rooms. “And you should have told us. You promised you wouldn’t keep secrets from us.”
“We weren’t ready to share the news.” Mav shrugged. “It felt special, ours. I didn’t want you treating her any different in case anyone noticed.”
“We know how to conceal knowledge, Mav. You deliberately put your, what is she? You said ‘we’. Did you both swear to each other?” Felather inhaled sharply. “You allowed your wife to go into danger, alone?”
“I know. You don’t have to beat me over the head with it,” Mav bit out in response. His gut was already churning with guilt, he didn’t need Felather piling more on. The dragon hissed in his ear as he rushed through the corridors, not caring if anyone saw him, until Adriz jerked him to a stop.
“Think, Mav. You can’t just storm into Kyrill’s rooms and accuse him of attacking Solanji. We need to be more discreet.” She glanced around them. “And you are not supposed to be roaming the citadel. Let me go and check; you and Felather keep out of sight.”
Chewing his finger, which Adriz slapped away from his mouth, Mav heaved a sigh. The dragon darted down a side a corridor, returned, and hissed again. “Alright, I’m coming.” Mav trailed after the glowing creature, glancing back over his shoulder at Adriz as she paused outside Kyrill’s door and braced her shoulders.
Felather drifted down the passage after him, his head cocked. “Someone else is out and about tonight,” he breathed as he joined Mav in a darkened alcove. Drawing the velvet curtain around them, Mav listened. Disgruntled voices and heavy footsteps lingered in the empty corridors. The dragon hooked a claw in his shirt and pulled on it. “We need to follow them,” Mav said, and they slipped out from behind the curtain and hurried after the little familiar as the echo of Adriz rapping on Kyrill’s door disturbed the thick silence of the night.
“How do you know where to go?” Felather huffed as he tried to keep up with him.
Mav threw a glance over his shoulder. “The dragon.”
“What dragon?”
“Solanji’s.”
“Solanji has a dragon?”
“The SoulBreather’s dragon.”
“Wait, what? You mean Athenia had one too?”
“The same one.”
“Since when has Solanji had this dragon? I thought you were going to tell us everything?”
Mav smiled at the whine in Felather’s voice. “I thought you knew. The tattoo was pretty obvious.”
“What tattoo?”
“You can’t see the tattoo?”
“Obviously not.”
“It covers her forearm. And it’s currently a rather petulant, glowing ball of gold leading the way.”
“Well, I’m glad you can see it, otherwise, we’d never find her. Why is it upset?”
“You’re not running fast enough.”
“Pshht! I’m keeping up with you! Where are they taking her?”
“The midden, if I’m not mistaken.”
Felather cursed and hurried after him.
Mav halted at the end of the corridor outside the entry to the citadel’s midden and watched in molten fury as Kyrill’s men turned away from the gaping maw that led to an enormous pit of refuse and waste.
If they had dumped his wife in that stinking cesspit, he would hunt them down and make them pay. How dare they. He vibrated with burning anger, ready to kill the next person he saw as he rushed to the entrance. The stench was vomit-worthy. A bit like the blue cheese he hated, he thought, trying not to heave.
“She must be unconscious,” Felather said as he peered into the darkness, listening for any movement.
“That would be for the best,” Mav agreed. How the hell were they supposed to get her out of there? At least there could be no argument about Kyrill rejecting her. A slither of muck shifting drew his head around. And again, a soft mumble. The tiny dragon darted across the midden and hovered, casting a yellow glow. Moving without realising it, he shinnied down the iron loops in the wall.
“Mav, wait! Let me go.” Felather’s voice was urgent above him.
“You can’t see the dragon,” he growled, slogging through the soggy mess of discarded vegetables, slop, and worse. “Solanji?” he called as his boots sunk into the muck. Making a mental note to charge Kyrill for a new pair of boots, he waded through the putrid waste, pushing away untold horrors. The stink made him retch, though fortunately he had nothing in his stomach to add to it. He hadn’t eaten much; he hadn’t felt like it after the sheer petty ministrations of the day before.
Another mumble. The voice was muttering a constant stream of words, none of which made any sense. He battled his way across to her. She was half submerged in a sea of muck, a tangle of limbs flailing as if she was drowning. When he grabbed her arm, she convulsed and groaned in pain. “All lost. I’m sorry, so sorry. I failed you.”
