Bound (Bound Trilogy) (15 page)

We rode farther from the mountain’s slope as the day passed, under cover of the forest. Rowan looked around, taking in the trees and the rocks, and the occasional animal that darted across the path. I was doing the same, but I soon realized she wasn’t seeing the same things I was. To me, every noise was a reason for caution. I looked at the trees for signs of damage, anything that might indicate what sorts of creatures lived in the area. I watched the sky for potential attackers.

Rowan seemed to be simply enjoying the colors of the leaves. She took deep breaths of the earth-scented air, and smiled when a doe paused in the path ahead of us before leaping away into the underbrush.

I only wondered what the deer might be running from.
You have a lot to learn about the world, Rowan
.

“So tell me about dragons,” she said after the deer fled. “I don’t know much about them, except that there’s a skeleton at the university, and Dorset Langley has a bow made from a rib he took from the first one he killed.”

“How very impressive. What do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Of course you do
. “Your people’s perceptions of dragons seem to be based on younger dragons. They’re nasty beasts, violent and thoughtless. If we have to kill a dragon, it’s usually not more than a few hundred years old.”

“So you do kill them? I thought you needed them.”

“We do. And they don’t often bother us enough that we’ll hunt them. Farmers in dragon lands accept the loss of a few animals every season as the price they pay for living there, and they take precautions against it. Once in a while a young dragon will develop a taste for human flesh, though, and discover that we’re easy prey. Then we have no choice. When they’re older, they know better.”

“How old is old?”

“A dragon could in theory live for thousands of years. They don’t let it go that long, though. As they get older, they become more like us. Their minds change, they think and speak like we do. And they hate it.”

She seemed surprised. “Are we so terrible that an animal would rather die than be like us?”

“They spend hundreds of years living without greed, envy, betrayal, sadness, anger. Even the things we might consider good are confusing to them. It becomes much harder to kill or steal when you start to think about what it does to someone else.”

She gave me a look that said she was reading too much into that statement, then asked, “Do they love?”

“I think any respectable dragon would kill itself before it let things get that bad.”

My answer seemed to please her far more than I’d expected. Strange woman. I’d thought I had her figured out. Easily distracted by daydreams, rebellious only when it was safe and suited her whims, kind but somewhat selfish, probably a horrible romantic. Smart, but dangerously unobservant. Perhaps I was only mostly right.

I realized that I’d let my awareness slip for far too long, and took a moment to check the forest around us. No humans. I’d have to watch that, though. Having company made for too many distractions.

Rowan appeared to be enjoying the conversation, and seemed to be growing less wary of me as the day wore on. “Is it true that they steal treasure? Is that a part of them becoming like us?”

“Partly. Dragonlings are quite fragile. They consume hard gemstones and minerals, and those substances are incorporated into their scales. It’s entirely natural that they’d seek them out for that purpose.” I’d learned all of this when I was a child, and it amazed me that the Darmish could be so ignorant. “But yes, when they get older they begin to hoard things they think are beautiful, and later the things that are valuable to other creatures. Gold isn’t good for a dragon to eat, it’s much too soft. But an old dragon might have more of it than most city treasuries, simply because someone else wants it. Of course, it benefits the dragon when people hear about their treasure and try to steal it. An old dragon doesn’t need to eat much, but they always appreciate fresh meat.”

“Is that treasure cursed?” she asked, whispering the last word. She was watching me so intently as she waited for an answer that a low-hanging branch nearly knocked her off of her horse. She ducked at the last moment, and turned to face forward again. I hoped she hadn’t seen me trying not to laugh at her. 

I cleared my throat. “You know, I think that’s enough questions for now.”

“You promised me answers!”

“I didn’t promise all of them at once. I’m trying to focus on keeping us safe. Curses and everything else will have to wait until we stop for the night.”

Of course the treasure was cursed. Possessing it invariably turned people into the very worst parts of themselves, cruel and selfish and murderous, caring nothing for anything but their own pleasure. It would have been exhausting to try to explain it all to her, though, and I was tired of talking.

“But what if—”

“Shh.” I held up a hand to silence her. “There’s someone here.” I relaxed when I realized that it wasn’t Severn I’d sensed, but that didn’t mean we were safe. It felt like two men behind us, still far enough off that they wouldn’t know exactly where we were, but close enough that I wasn’t just going to wait and hope that they’d go away. They didn’t feel familiar. Darmish, perhaps, though I couldn’t tell whether they were magic hunters.

Either way, I would deal with them. I just hoped it wasn’t the Langleys. That would be particularly messy.

A strip of grassy, treeless land stretched out to either side of us like a deserted road. I urged my horse forward, into the shelter of the trees on the opposite side, and Rowan followed.

“What’s going on?”

“Wait here,” I said, and handed her the reins while I dismounted. “We can’t have people following us. I’ll take care of it.”

“How?”

I looked down the broad path in both directions. The trees on either side reached branches across, and the ground was overgrown with grass and saplings. Definitely unused, but still… “Don’t go anywhere, and try to be quiet. I don’t think there’s anything here, but it’s best not to take chances. Just stay well off the path. If anything threatens you, leave the horses and run. I’ll be back.”

“What is it?”

“Dragon path.”

“Really?” She leaned forward and squinted as she looked toward the place where the wide path curved back into the trees.

I tried to forget about her as I crept back through the forest toward whomever was unlucky enough to be on our trail.

Chapter Fifteen

Aren

T
he men were easy to locate. They were locals sent to search the woods for us, careless and unaware of how close they were to success. I heard and saw them long before they knew I was there.

“Do you see anything?” His Darmish accent made it come out, “D’you see hennyting?” His thoughts were easier to follow than his words.

“Same as. Are we going to turn back? I’m about ready to get back to my Mary and a home-cooked meal.”

“Nuts to your Mary. Give it another few. We’ll never hear the end of it if we’re first back.”

“Imagine if we did find them?”

The first speaker snorted, then wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Gawd, I hope not! Magic stuff gives me the creeps.”

They certainly hadn’t located us through any skill of their own. More likely they’d been sent off in our direction, picked up a few signs of someone passing, and followed because they’d been instructed to follow every clue. What a shame for them that they were so keen on doing their duty.

They were alone, and hadn’t thought to send word back to the magic hunters. The second one told me so before I broke his neck.

I dragged the bodies to a shallow ravine, then hurried back to where I’d left Rowan.

That could have been worse
, I thought. I didn’t enjoy dealing with situations like that, but if those two incompetents were the worst thing we had to deal with before we got to some kind of safety, I wouldn’t complain.

The horses were still there, tearing away at the leaves of some low redberry bushes. Rowan had left our bags piled under the boughs of a thick pine, but she was gone. I hoped she’d only gone to look for food, but I knew better. I left the horses where they were, took the bags with me, and set out down the dragon path, heading toward the rocky hill to the North.

She’ll be fine,
I told myself.
Just a young dragon, long dead. Dorset Langley probably killed it and made a piano bench out of its bones.
Even if it had been an older dragon that left its treasure behind, Rowan would know not to touch anything in its cave, wouldn’t she? Perhaps not.

I pushed my feet harder into the grassy earth and ran.

The cave entrance was wide and low, opening beneath an overhang of dark rock. The leaves littering the ground were another reassuring sign. If a large dragon had been going in and out, its belly would have cleared the debris. I left the bags outside and ducked my head to creep into the cave.

The cave Rowan had slept in the previous night had been damp and cool. This one was warm and dry enough that I had to breathe slowly so as not to cough. My stomach tightened with apprehension, but I forced myself to go on. Something rumbled in the cave ahead, but the echoes and the curves of the tunnel distorted the sound. The passage grew lighter, not with daylight, but with a red-gold glow.

Had that not told me what lay ahead, the strong magic in the air would have. Had Rowan felt it? Could she? Perhaps that had been enough to warn her off. But I had to know.

I stayed close to the smooth wall, creeping forward until the tunnel opened onto a larger cavern which was almost entirely filled with a massive dragon.

The light in the cave came from the dull glow of the creature’s red scales. Its thick body rested on the floor, and great clawed feet curled at the ends of four muscular legs. Relaxed, not aggressive or defensive. The tail curved around the wall of the cavern toward me, and the head, which was half again as large as one of the horses I’d left outside, was raised at the end of a sinuous neck, gaze directed at a spot just to the side of where I stood in the shadows. I leaned forward. Rowan crouched on a stone outcropping with her back pressed to the wall, her attention fixed on the massive face in front of her. She appeared unharmed, but frightened.

“I think we have company,” the dragon said, and a chill spread from the base of my spine through my body. The rasping voice spoke with our words, but sounded nothing like a human. The dragon and Rowan both turned to look at me.

“Aren, run,” Rowan ordered.

“Don’t be rude, girl,” the dragon replied. Its green eyes were surrounded by scales that were the same deep gray as its neatly folded wings and the narrow spines crowning its head and tracing the length of its back. “Come in, please.”

I stepped into the cavern, but stayed near the entrance. There was no point trying to reach Rowan. We’d both be dead before we took one step toward freedom. The dragon shrugged, a gesture that rippled down the length of its body and ended with a flick of its tail. “Good enough. This young lady was just telling me about this journey that the two of you are on. Seems strange to me that you’d help her. Out of what? The goodness of your heart?” The beast lifted its lip in a sneer. “I hardly think there’s much of that in you.”

“You know who I am, then?”

“I do. I rarely care for the short-lived concerns of humans, but your family is familiar to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Rowan said. “I just wanted to look, and then Ruby invited me in, and I didn’t think I should say no.”

“Ruby?”

Another flick of the tail. “The girl wanted to know my name, and I told her dragons don’t have them. She asked me what I ate to become such a lovely color, and I told her.” The dragon blinked slowly and fixed its gaze on my hands. “Very nice gloves you have there. Dragon skin?”

“Yes.” There was no point lying. “He killed a dozen people before we killed him. Fourteen if you count unborn children.”

“I don’t, but I suppose you are correct. He earned his death.” It stretched its forelegs and flexed its claws, clearly not intimidated by my presence. “If I kill her, will you do the same to me?” There was a mocking tone to its voice.

“I’ll try.”

Rowan sighed. “I told you not to come in.
Are
you going to kill me?” she asked the dragon.

“Of course. You’re not much, but my young are hungry.”

I hadn’t noticed the pool of still water between the dragon’s forelegs. Beneath the surface I could just make out the pale shapes of a trio of dragonlings, still too young and soft to survive the air their mother’s heat made so dry. That was why the path appeared unused. Mother dragons guard their eggs and their young more carefully than any other creature, forgoing food and exercise in order to protect them.

“Your story has entertained me,” the dragon continued, “and I thank you. But if you’re finished, I have no reason to spare you. Or him.” She leaned her head closer to Rowan. “But I’ll let you choose flames or claws, by way of thanks.”

I scrambled to think of a way to get us out of there, but couldn’t come up with anything that would work fast enough. All I had was my hunting knife and magic, neither of which would work fast enough to save us.

Rowan stood, slowly and unsteadily. She reached out a trembling hand and laid it on the glowing red snout. “I think you should let us go.”

It was a lucky thing the creature didn’t snort in surprise. It might have cooked Rowan where she stood. “Why ever would I do that?”

Rowan closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

Come on
, I thought. She’d have to find a way to use magic again. I didn’t know what she’d be able to do with it, but we were both going to be eaten if she didn’t think of something.

“Because,” she said, and looked up. “You want to know how the story ends.”

The dragon opened her mouth, then paused. She pulled back, neck curving into an S-shape. “
This
is how it ends.”

“It could be. But if you let us go, there will be more for you to hear. I don’t know what’s going to happen. Neither do you. I think you’re curious, that you’d like to find out. Isn’t that better than a tiny little meal?” Her voice shook, but she stared steadily at the dragon’s horrible face.