Redheart (Leland Dragon Series) (23 page)

“But how can you know?”

He pressed his mouth to her temple and spoke words against her skin. “It’s what I would do.”

She closed her eyes. “Please stop touching me like that.”

“Why do you resist me, Riza?” His mouth drew down the side of her face and he pressed a soft kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Even if this whole challenge weren’t already doomed, you could never fit into his life.”

“I just want to be his friend. I don’t see why we can’t be friends.”

“Where? Here? You see how they’ve accepted you already. They despise us as much as we despise them.” His lips pressed to the side of her neck. She clenched against the rise of goose bumps. “A war brews, Riza.”

“No.”

“There won’t be any more friendships between humans and dragons. When the fight comes, it will be us against them. Live or die. One side or the other.”

“No.” Fear clenched her belly and squeezed tears to her eyes. “It doesn’t have to be that way.”

“It’s already that way. You just refuse to see it.”

“If Kallon becomes leader instead of Blackclaw, he can change that.”

Jastin was silent for a long time. She felt his breath against her throat, smelled the bitter remnants of sulfur and perspiration. She was almost certain he could see her in the dark, and that his eyes were roaming her face for which piece of flesh he might tear off with his teeth.

But when he spoke again, his voice was tender. “I think your Red wants to show the others that Blackclaw paid me with a pouch that bears the manor symbol.” His chains scraped over her shoulder as his fingers guided her face toward his voice. “That pouch is already gone. It was long gone before we were captured.”

“But if you tell them where it is, won’t it be enough to prove Blackclaw was in on it?”

“It’s miles away.”

“When did he give it to you?”

“Before the opening ceremonies of the council meeting. The night I took you to the cave in the woods.”

“Then when did you have time to travel so far to hide it?”

He growled softly. “You are the most obstinate female that breathes. I thought my wife was the only one who could argue a snake into thinking he was a leather belt, but she had nothing on you.”

“Well, I just don’t understand!”

“Do you have to understand something before you can believe it?” He slid his hand into her hair and gripped gently. She could feel his lips against her mouth as he spoke. “Understand this, then. I am trying to save your life. I can’t think why, with all the trouble you’ve given me.” He drew in a long breath. “When I get my vest back, I can take you to safety in the time it takes you to blink. We can be miles away. Just like that pouch.”

“Are you talking about magic? Are you a wizard?”

His quiet laugh held more frustration than amusement. “I’m not a wizard. But I work for someone who knows one.”

“You mean Blackclaw?”

His fingers traced her cheek. “Let me take you with me, just to see you safe.” His voice dropped so low, she could barely make out his words. “You don’t have to stay with me. Just let me save you.”

She let herself see deep inside to all the resistance, all the straining she’d ever done against the world and its confines. Jastin was right, she was stubborn. But she’d had to be. In a world of selfish, small-minded thinkers, she’d had to fight with everything she had not to become one of them.

But for what? To be laid out on a cold floor of a cell, buried alive. She’d changed nothing. She’d accomplished nothing. Every small step from home had only carried her further into the mouth of darkness, and she’d been swallowed by it. She searched now for the fight inside her, but only found weariness.

She would have liked to cry a little, but couldn’t work up the strength for even tears. She closed her eyes. “What about Orman?”

“Let him save himself,” he whispered. His kiss pressed hard to her mouth.

She couldn’t immediately react. She’d gone numb. It felt like all those times when she’d slept and had somehow known she was sleeping. When her dreams didn’t feel like dreams at all, but like moments when her soul had escaped to fly, soaring and fearless, into adventure.

Was she sleeping now? Her body lay unmoving. The weight of his heavy leg swung across her thighs and pinned her to the floor. It hurt, but she couldn’t squirm. He pressed harder against her.

Her mind was foggy, full of the shadows of things she once dreamed about in places she thought someday she’d discover. Those things would never happen if she died here on the mountain. Maybe a life with Jastin was better than no life at all. Maybe he was right about that too.

Then she heard someone call. At first, she thought the voice echoed in her mind, but when she listened closer, she realized it murmured from that place in her soul where her fight was hiding. Wake up, Riza, said the voice. You want to fly.

She instantly awoke. Strength flowed into her arms and legs. She cried out against his mouth, and bucked against his weight.

He pulled back, his voice thick with breath. “You’re right,” he said. “I’m sorry. Not here. Not like this.”

“No, Jastin,” she said, twisting to push him away. “Not ever.”

She could feel his angry stare pierce right through the blackness to her face. “Am I really so repulsive you’d rather die?”

“It’s not you. It’s everything I’ve ever believed. I can’t give up now. If I’m going to die, I want to die flying.”

“No.” He gripped her chin again and pressed his mouth to her cheek. “No, I won’t let you.”

“Let me go!”

Orman snorted awake, and she heard his groggy voice. “Hm? What was that?”

“Riza?” It was Kallon. His voice was so clear she had to wonder how long he’d been awake.

“Stupid woman,” Jastin spat into her ear. “Stupid, stubborn, infuriating…” He pushed off, making her grunt. He continued his babble of adjectives as he skulked away.

“What happened? Did he harm you? Are you quite all right?” Orman was there, his hands smoothing her hair, stroking her arms, searching for injury.

“Riza?” Kallon asked again.

“I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.” She struggled to sit, her hands still useless and aching behind her back. Orman helped. “I have to tell you about the pouch.”

The door suddenly groaned open and blinding torchlight swung in front of her face. She turned her head, seeing white splotches in front of her eyes.

“Time to go,” said the talking wall of gray scales that lumbered into the room. “Just the Red. The rest of you get to stay.”

“Wait,” she said, trying to get to her feet. Orman was there again to help her. “Kallon, Jastin’s pouch—”

“Quiet, you,” rumbled the Gray, and pushed her.

She was still trying to see past the floating splotches when Kallon’s muzzle brushed her cheek. “It’s all right, Riza. I know.”

“No, you don’t!” She stumbled forward. The massive door slammed shut. “Wait! It’s not there! Kallon, the pouch isn’t there!” She fell against the door, scratching her forehead.

“We’ve got to get out there,” said Jastin, coming beside her.

“What pouch?” asked Orman.

“Do you think he heard me?” She turned toward Orman, her voice tight. “I don’t think he heard me.”

“Doesn’t matter now, anyway,” said Jastin. “We’ve just got to get out there.”

Chapter Forty-Three

Kallon paused in the hallway. “Why are the others not coming?” He could hear Riza’s panicked voice, distorted through the thick wooden door.

The Gray kept moving. “I was told to bring only you.”

“Blackclaw is violating numerous codes in the Human-Dragon Relations Pact. You will be held accountable for following orders that defy those codes.”

“By whom?” The Gray gave Kallon a casual glance, and then, instead of veering left toward the exit, he turned right.

Kallon hung back. When the Gray was out of view, Kallon yanked open the metal slab on the prison door. “Riza?” he called.

“Dragon.” Armitage’s face appeared, covered in soot. “Get us out of here.”

“Riza was trying to tell me something.”

“You won’t find the pouch where you think. I need my vest. Get me out of here and get me my vest.”

Kallon snorted. “And I should trust you because…?”

“There was a time when prisoners just quietly did as they were told,” spoke a voice in the hallway. Kallon turned to find the scowling Gray, who was holding a wickedly pointed shortstaff imbedded with dark blue crystals. “Fear was enough,” continued the Gray, staring down at the staff and twirling it slowly. “There was no need for threats and violence. I liked my job much better then.”

Kallon sauntered toward him. “Have you tried asking nicely?” he asked, keeping an eye on that shortstaff.

They turned right. Kallon strained to remember where this hallway led, until he caught sight of an iron door. He paused. Ivy leaves climbed the door and met in the center. There perched a metal dragonfly, watching the hallway with a cocked head. He ran his thumb over the dragonfly’s wings, and remembered. His mother’s room.

“Go on.” The Gray waved his staff.

Kallon pushed open the door. In the center of the room stood a thick slab of desk, with massive legs carved into claws that gripped the four corners. A neatly folded black tunic and leather vest lay on top of the desk, with a sword, several cloth pouches, and a crossbow with arrows, all arranged in a tidy half-circle. Behind the desk stood Fordon Blackclaw, his palms pressed to the wood. His dark head loomed over the desk.

“You understand, of course, that the tarnish you are applying to my good name will not easily buff away,” Blackclaw said, his tone offensively patient. “You’ve introduced doubt into the minds of the masses, and it will linger. I will have to work hard to regain their trust.”

Kallon straightened his shoulders and met Blackclaw’s gaze. He was closer to the council leader than he’d been before. Kallon had thought Blackclaw was larger, somehow. Of course, his head still towered over Kallon’s, and the leader’s paws were half again the width of his own. So why did he seem so much smaller?

“A great leader should have to work at keeping trust,” said Kallon. “He should have to prove himself again and again to those who place their faith in him.”

Blackclaw leaned back. “Such conviction in your words.” He shifted around to the side of the desk, moving like liquid shadows. “Almost convincing. In fact, your performance this morning made even me wonder if you actually believed the things you were saying.”

“Do not pretend for my sake, Blackclaw. We both know the truth.”

“And it was because of those thoughts I found myself curious about the evidence of which you spoke. It is feasible, after all, that the human male convinced you of a plot by having this ‘evidence’ in his belongings.”

Kallon’s stomach lurched. “You destroyed it.”

“No, I assure you, I did not. Now, tell me, just between you and me, Redheart,” Blackclaw said, coming in front of the desk. “Why is it that you have come? What do you really want here?”

Kallon regarded Blackclaw for a long moment. What did he really want? All morning, and until just now, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been acting on impulse, responding by instinct.

“Come now, Red. It is the time for truth. What is the real reason you came back?”

“I came back for my friends,” Kallon finally said.

Blackclaw snorted. “But what do you want?”

Kallon moved a step closer. “I want Leland dragons to see you for who you really are. I want them to be guided by a leader who cares more for them than he does for himself.”

“Or to infiltrate this community with your lies?”

“Very well, Fordon.” It was the resonant voice of Hale Brownwing. Kallon turned to find the council member emerge from the adjoining room. Shera Yellowfang followed. “We have heard enough,” Brownwing said. “The Red has said nothing to discredit himself, and I believe he speaks in truth.”

“As do I,” said Yellowfang. “Whether his accusations are true remains to be seen. But I believe that he believes them.”

“What is this?” Kallon asked, eyes moving from Yellowfang to Brownwing, to Blackclaw. “Some sort of test?”

Blackclaw opened his mouth, but Brownwing held out a paw and spoke instead. “Forgive us, Kallon. We represent the council members who are at a loss as to what is really going on here. We sense wrongdoing, but are uncertain as to the cause.”

“So by presenting me with the human’s belongings, which have been cleansed of evidence, you thought I would confess to lying?”

“Fordon thought you would betray yourself in some way, but only if you believed you were alone with him,” said Yellowfang. “Frankly, I agreed. It does seem an underhanded way of going about it, but you must realize we are only seeking the truth.”

“The truth is your leader is the one with the power to manipulate all this,” said Kallon. “He can hold me prisoner while he tidies up his secrets. He can keep innocent humans behind bars to protect his own lies.” Kallon turned to Blackclaw, a wisp of steam curling from his lip. “As long as you continue to give Blackclaw his full leadership power, he will continue his wrongdoings without consequence.”

“We have considered this,” said Brownwing. “But we have failed to find a reason to doubt him.”

“Then perhaps you should be trying to find a reason to believe him!” Kallon spun to Brownwing. “His accusations of Orman Thistleby as a spy are ridiculous, and you know it. What proof did he give? And yet, the wizard starves in a cell that hasn’t been used since the Anodine war. Are we at war?”

“Yes,” snarled Blackclaw. “We are at war with injustice. As such, that wizard is a war criminal.”

“By whose judgment?” asked Kallon.

“By mine!” Blackclaw slammed his fist to the desk, rattling Armitage’s sword to the floor. “I am the leader here! I need no other judgment!”

“Now see here, Fordon,” said Brownwing.

“The council is many members for a reason,” said Yellowfang. “We have no dictatorship here.”

“Do not lecture me, Shera, on the miniscule edicts of the council.” Blackclaw pointed a claw at the Yellow and pressed it to the tip of her chin. “Lest you forget the edict that empowers me to invoke Primacy.”

She pulled back from his touch and scowled. “Do you threaten me, Fordon?”

“Primacy!” Brownwing sputtered, his wingtips flaring. “That is no threat, that is an outrage! A difference of opinion is no basis for expulsion from the council!”

“It is if her loyalty is suspect,” Blackclaw said, pushing away to swerve toward the door.

“You are betraying yourself, Blackclaw,” said Kallon. “If you are not careful, you will show them your true nature, and save me the trouble.”

“Thank you for your concern, Red,” Blackclaw said. “But should you not be resting in the guest room I arranged for you and your criminal friends? You do have a difficult task come dawn.” His onyx claws gripped the door handle. “And be prepared to make room there, would you? I suppose it is getting crowded, but there ought to be enough room for one more.” His eyes shot to Yellowfang. Then he yanked open the door and slithered through it.

Yellowfang clenched her fists. “He has really gone too far. Someone should keep an eye on him.”

“My nephew has been instructed to do so until I tell him otherwise.” Brownwing reached down to the fallen sword and replaced it onto the desk. “However, I am not sure that is enough. We need to gather the council to discuss what the bylaws say about this.”

“It is his word against ours,” said Yellowfang.

“We are the two longest-serving members on the council.” Brownwing put his paw on her shoulder. “It should count for something.”

Yellowfang nodded and turned amber eyes to Kallon. “Perhaps completing your quest will help untie this tangle.”

“Perhaps,” said Kallon. “But I still have to prove Blackclaw’s connection to Bluecrest’s murder. His removing the evidence has taken care of that.”

Yellowfang and Brownwing exchanged glances.

“What is it?” Kallon asked.

“Kallon, Hale did as you requested outside the arena. Out of respect for your father, he sent his nephew to find the belongings of the male human, and to keep watch over them.”

“He discovered where they were kept,” said Brownwing. “He stayed to guard them, and Blackclaw did show up, as you seemed to suspect.” He looked again to Yellowfang.

She continued, “Hale’s nephew didn’t allow him to touch anything before he alerted us. The belongings came straight from that room to this one, and have not been altered.”

“But I saw him give the pouch to the human! It had the embroidered crest of the manor!” Kallon dove into the items, searching. “Why else would Blackclaw have gone to them if he did not also remember the pouch?”

“I cannot say,” said Brownwing. “He claims he was curious as to why you seemed so convinced of his guilt.”

Kallon closed his eyes. He clutched the leather vest into his fist. “As long as Blackclaw remains one step ahead of me, I am doomed to fail.”

Brownwing reached for the vest in Kallon’s grip. “Sometimes, what we believe does not need to be proven, as long as we know in our hearts we fought well for it.” Brownwing folded the vest neatly and returned it to the desk.

“She is slowly going mad in that place,” Kallon said quietly. “If I can do nothing else for her, can you simply grant me that she not spend another night there? Surely the council can search the bylaws.”

Yellowfang bunched her eyeridges. “Her? You mean the human female?”

“Yes,” said Kallon. “I assure you she is innocent. And yet she suffers. She is hungry, and cold, and frightened.”

Yellowfang looked for Brownwing’s reaction, but the Brown only stared at the floor. “Five of the seven current council members believe you have spent the last several years going slowly insane. They have utmost faith in Blackclaw, and his dictates.” His sad eyes lifted and he settled them on Kallon. “I am certain we are on the cusp of change, Kallon. From this day forward, our future will veer from the path we have known since the dawn of our time.”

Yellowfang inched forward a step and laid her paw on the back of Brownwing’s knuckles. “Hale and I have sensed this coming. The wind murmurs in warning, and we have argued for reason, but our words are empty.”

Kallon tilted his head. “You have known all along that Blackclaw intends to draw humans into war.”

Brownwing shook his head. “We did not realize the depth of his conviction until today. But he has been fueling unrest and speaking more against humans with each passing year.”

“Then you must believe me. You must see how this obsession makes him capable of murdering his own Kind.”

Brownwing’s eyes moved to gaze off across Kallon’s shoulder. He stared for a time, his throat clenching in a deep swallow. Then he pressed his paws to the desk. “Son, what I believe I dare not say aloud.”

Kallon watched Brownwing’s claws dent the human’s vest. Armitage’s vest! Hadn’t the man tried to warn him the pouch wasn’t with his clothes? He’d said he needed his vest. But why would the human warn him?

Brownwing grasped Kallon’s shoulders. “What I will say is this. How you fare on this quest will determine the new direction of our Kind. You have come back to us after all this time, just when we need you most. It cannot be coincidence.”

Kallon shook his head. “I wish I could encourage you. I wish I could be the bold champion you want me to be. But I am the fledgling who ran in fear from life and responsibility. I am not bold. I am no champion.”

Brownwing’s grip tightened on his shoulders. “I see no fledgling,” he said. “I see a Redheart.”