Dragon Blessed (The Dragonwalker Book 2) Read online

  “I was a fire mage.” She said it softly, barely more than a whisper. She looked over at Fes, meeting his gaze with more strength than he expected from her. “I was trained by the same fire mage who trained the emperor.”

  “That’s how you know Elizabeth.”

  She nodded. “There was a time when we trained together, but I realized what she was after and how dangerous she was.”

  “And what is she after?”

  “Power. She is willing to do whatever it takes to gain power, even if it means pursuing what she should not.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  “Because I saw the way those with power used what they have. I began to realize that the Priests of the Flame had a better way. It was a way that suited me.”

  She looked over at Fes and met his gaze. “Now that you know, what is it that you intend to do?”

  Fes looked at the soldiers camped below. He thought about the boy, thought about the way that he had been silent, and thought about the way that he had looked at him, the pleading expression on his face that had practically demanded that Fes help.

  How could he do anything else?

  “If they have Griffin, I will help you get him back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I was once a child who needed help, and no one came for me.”

  It was as much an answer as he could offer, and it was the truth. Fes had been left to struggle, no one coming for him, forcing him out in the streets after his parents had died. How different would he have been had somebody come to his aid? What would have happened with his brother?

  How weak would he have been had he received the kind of help that he proposed now? There was a benefit to experience, and it allowed him to be stronger than he would’ve otherwise been.

  Fes couldn’t shake the thought of the power pulsing off the boy. Whatever else, there was something to that. Fes might not know or understand what it was, but he recognized the need for him to help.

  He started down the slope, unsheathing his daggers. There was no way for him to conceal his presence, not easily. He didn’t even try. Instead, he focused on tracking how many soldiers were down there. When he reached a dozen, he stopped.

  A dozen men. There had been a time not long ago when Fes would’ve thought that too many, but that was before he had learned to embrace the anger that burned through him. The part of him that was Deshazl. For so long, he had tried to suppress it, and now that he had begun to embrace it, now that he had allowed himself to welcome it, he found power within it.

  At one point, Fes glanced back to see whether or not Jayell was trailing along with him. He was surprised to find that she was, and even more surprised to realize that heat built from her, focused through the dragon bone so that it began to glow. He hadn’t noticed until he turned his attention to her, but now that he did and was aware of what she was doing, he saw how it was focused, the power honed to a tight readiness, prepared to explode from the dragon relic.

  Perhaps a dozen soldiers wouldn’t be too many for them.

  And then they were upon them.

  A blast erupted from Jayell’s hands. It came from the bone, pouring forth with enormous heat that erupted away from her.

  Fes had barely a moment to pay any attention to that, and then he fell upon the first of the soldiers.

  The attacker met his dagger with the sword, and Fes lunged off to the side, catching the blade and twisting it down. He spun around, jabbing his dagger into the man’s stomach, slicing upward before withdrawing his blade. He turned and came face to face with two men. Both of them were armed with swords and he slashed through them, cutting them down.

  As he made his way through the campsite, he focused on the memories that would allow him to draw from pain and anger. Those memories would give him strength.

  It wasn’t difficult to do.

  Fes had learned to welcome those memories in moments like these.

  He turned, slashing at the next two attackers. They fell quickly.

  How many were left?

  Two more, and then there was a strange robed figure.

  Fes launched himself at the two soldiers, stabbing them in the back before they could turn their attention to Jayell.

  That left only the robed figure.

  Heat erupted.

  A fire mage.

  Fes lunged forward, slashing at the air. As he did, he saw Jayell with her hands frozen in place. Whatever spell the fire mage had used had restricted her, preventing her from moving at all.

  Fes darted in front of her and, with his daggers, slashed at the air, trying to part the effect of the spell.

  This was a mistake. Most fire mages worked for the empire. Doing this put him against the empire—and possibly against Azithan.

  The fire mage turned his attention to Fes. He was a smaller man, shorter than Fes, and he held a long length of dragon bone in his hand. The bone glowed, and the striations along the side had a slight orange sheen to them.

  “What have we here?” the fire mage growled.

  Fes lunged at him, and the mage attempted to send a burst of heat at Fes, but he was fast and the daggers peeled the magic from the spell. The heat split off to either side, barely touching Fes.

  He crashed into the fire mage, knocking the bone free. Fes landed on top of him and plunged a dagger into his shoulder. When the fire mage attempted to twist, trying to bring his hand up, Fes jammed his other dagger into the other shoulder.

  Pinned to the ground, the fire mage looked up at Fes. There was no fear in his eyes. “You have made a grave mistake.”

  “Do you think you’re the first fire mage I have confronted?”

  “When the emperor learns what you have done—”

  Fes leaned close, getting into the man’s ear. “The emperor won’t get to learn what I’ve done, now will he? How could he, since I have you here?”

  The fire mage squeezed his hands, and flames erupted from him. As they did, the man disappeared.

  Fes jumped up, pulling his blades back and rolling on the ground to put out the fire.

  He looked around, but nothing else moved. He found Jayell staring at the empty campsite. There was no sign of Donathon or Griffin, and the dozen soldiers were dead because of them.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  Jayell shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “What was that? Why would he have burned himself out?”

  “He didn’t. He used the flame to mask himself. What mages call ‘traveling the flame.’”

  “Traveling the flame?”

  Jayell nodded, her gaze staring at the ground where the remains of the fire mage were burned out, leaving a trail of ash along the grass. “Only incredibly powerful fire mages can do it, but they can draw upon the power of the ancient dragons, and they can travel the flame.”

  “What does that even mean?”

  “It means that he can disappear. Even other mages wouldn’t be able to track him.”

  Fes looked at where the fire mage had been. Was that what he had done?

  Then again, hadn’t he seen Reina do something similar? When he had first confronted her, she had disappeared in much the same way.

  “Can you travel the flame?” Fes asked.

  Jayell shook her head. “I’m not powerful enough. I left my training long before I ever learned those secrets.”

  “It’s probably best,” he said. “I doubt I could travel with you.”

  Jayell looked up at him and her gaze drifted to his daggers. “How is it that you were able to counteract what he did?”

  “I didn’t counteract anything.”

  “I saw it. I saw the way that you extinguished every spell that he threw.”

  “It’s not me. It’s my daggers.” He unsheathed one and held it out, showing it to her. “They’re made of dragonglass. The daggers allow me to mitigate a fire mage’s spell.”

  Her eyes widened. “Your daggers can do that? I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  �
�The daggers aren’t foolproof. I’ve had times where they failed.”

  “Such as when we came across you?”

  Fes nodded. “Elizabeth is apparently more powerful than what these daggers can overcome.” He didn’t know what other limitations he might have but he didn’t like the fact that he wasn’t able to prevent her from trapping him.

  “Where else could they have gone?” Jayell asked.

  Fes breathed out. “They couldn’t have taken them very far.” He looked at the line of horses tied off to stakes plunged into the ground. At least they wouldn’t have to travel by foot. “I think it’s time that we go looking for them.”

  Fes readied four horses, and when they were saddled, they started off. If nothing else, were they to come across the priest and the boy, he wanted to be ready for them to make a quick escape. Before departing, Fes hesitated. There wasn’t much of a way to track them at night, not easily.

  Dawn was rising and color began to streak the sky. They would have to wait. It would be better so that they could more easily track where the soldiers would have brought the priest and Griffin.

  “Where do you think they would have gone?” Fes asked while they waited.

  “I don’t know, but they were after Griffin.”

  “Does the emperor know of the boy?”

  “He’s not the first the emperor has come after.”

  “What is it that the emperor wants with him?”

  “I’m not supposed to share with you.”

  “Fine. You don’t have to share. I’ll just head off, and take the horse with me, so that I can find my friend.”

  As he started to veer away, Jayell reached for the reins and halted him. “Please. Help me.”

  “What is he?”

  “He’s the only one who can threaten the emperor and the rule. He and others like him.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the power of the dragons burns in his blood. He can summon that power, and use it, not even needing a dragon relic.”

  Two of the things that she said caught Fes off guard. Not only was he unprepared for the comment about not needing a dragon relic—something that he had detected from Griffin but not known what it was—but it was also her offhanded comment about burning within the blood. That was how he described the anger that boiled in him, and the way that he fought, fending off attackers when needed.

  “He descends from those who lived on the dragon fields,” she said. “Those who came before the empire. They have that power.”

  “What people are those?” Fes asked, though already knew the answer even as he tensed, waiting for her to respond.

  “The Deshazl. Griffin is one of the Deshazl.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Fes said nothing as they continued to ride, and as daylight broke, he struggled with what she had said. He had heard about the Deshazl as the descendants of the people who had lived on the dragon plains, but hearing them described as the descendants of the dragons was something else entirely. That implied a different sort of power to the Deshazl, something much more than what Fes would have expected.

  And yet… he couldn’t deny what he felt. Wasn’t there power burning within him? Didn’t he feel that every time he got angry? Didn’t it boil up from within him? Was that dragon-like?

  And then there was his ability to carve through the spells of a fire mage.

  He had believed that ability came from the daggers, but what if it didn’t? What if it came from something within him, rather than from within the daggers?

  They followed tracks across the ground, neither of them speaking.

  For Jayell, Fes suspected it was her concern about what she had shared with Fes. He assumed that she was not supposed to share what she had. For him, it was something else.

  Late in the day, they picked up a sign of movement in the distance.

  Fes slowed their approach. They neared carefully, watching in the distance.

  “You think they’re with them?” she asked.

  Fes studied the caravan. There were probably two dozen or so soldiers, and he couldn’t tell whether the priest was with them. From the distance, he couldn’t tell much.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “I think things got more complicated,” Fes said.

  “How?”

  He pointed to the caravan. “Do you see them?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “There are several dozen. Too many for us to handle on our own.” Could there be a fire mage among them? There had been a fire mage with the last group, which made it likely that there was a fire mage with an even larger grouping of soldiers.

  They stayed distant, but Fes knew they wouldn’t be able to remain hidden for long. The moment that someone saw them, they would be forced to make a decision.

  He motioned to Jayell to turn off with him.

  “We aren’t going to see if they have them?”

  “We don’t want to draw their attention,” Fes said. “If we are going to do this, we need to do it the right way.”

  She frowned. “And what’s the right way?”

  Fes wasn’t certain. The easiest answer was to try to pick them off one at a time, but he wasn’t certain they would be able to do that. He wasn’t certain they could figure out any way to compel the soldiers to veer off, not easily.

  Maybe they could approach in a less threatening way?

  But what? What could they do that wouldn’t be threatening to soldiers?

  Anything that might be non-threatening to the soldiers would put them at risk.

  The only other answer was approaching at night and creating enough of a distraction to draw off the soldiers.

  That seemed the safest bet.

  “We wait.”

  “For what?”

  “For the right opportunity.”

  The soldiers camped as dusk fell. They found a stream and paused alongside it, then built a massive fire that pushed back the night. It was easily visible from a distance, making it a simple matter to keep track of where they were camped for the night.

  “How long do we wait?”

  “I’ve been around soldiers enough to know that the early part of the evening is spent making preparations, and it’s later in the evening that they begin to lose their same vigilance,” Fes said. Would these men camp the same as the rebellion or would they have different tactics? “We need them to let their guard down so that we can reach them more easily.”

  “And if they don’t let their guard down?”

  “Then we have to rethink our strategy,” Fes said.

  He dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Jayell. She took them, watching him. “I’m going to get close to them. You keep an eye on me, and if you see things going the wrong way, come in prepared to sling around some magic.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not quite how it works.”

  “I know how it works, and I trust that you can keep an eye on me. If it looks like I’m going to need some help, then you need to get in there.”

  She stared past him for a long moment before nodding.

  Fes dropped to the ground, getting low as he crawled over the hillside. The campfire drew him as if he were a moth heading toward a flame, but he kept his eyes averted from it, not wanting to lose his night vision. What he needed to do was get close, but not so close as to make it easy for them to all come at him at once.

  When he was several hundred yards away, he searched for a clump of grass or a rock until he found it.

  Fes tossed it.

  The soldiers looked into the night. Sitting so close to the fire would make it difficult for them to see out, a surprising mistake by anyone accustomed to traveling outside the city. A couple men started out, stepping away from the fire, but they paused.

  Maybe they weren’t as foolish as he had thought.

  He searched for another clump of grass or a rock, and when he found a small stone, he tossed it so that it landed near one of the men.

  Let them know that he was
out there.

  The man looked down at his feet.

  “What is it?” Fes heard the other man ask.

  “I thought it was an animal, but something brushed my boot.”

  “Maybe it is an animal. Fox and wolves and other things roam out here.”

  “Have you heard any fox out here?”

  “I haven’t heard anything, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  “Let’s go take a look. Otherwise he will be angry.”

  “He’s angry enough the way it is. You saw what he did to the boy.”

  The two men started off.

  Had they already harmed the boy?

  Hearing that was enough to set his blood boiling, anger rising up within him. A stifled cry in the main campsite urged him into action. With actions like that, they were no different than Carter’s men.

  He stayed low, waiting until they came near enough to him, and then lunged toward the nearest man. He drove his dagger straight up through the man’s throat, silencing him before he had a chance to make a sound. The other man spun and let out a strangled cry, and Fes kicked, dropping him with a boot to his chest before landing on top of him, jabbing him in the chest with the dagger.

  He spun toward the campsite. Had the cry been enough to draw attention?

  If it was, maybe that wasn’t a bad thing. He needed to draw the men out of the campsite, and he couldn’t do that without raising some attention.

  Three more men stood at the edge of the campsite.

  Fes searched the man he crouched on and found a knife. He tossed that away from him, out into the darkness. When it landed, there was a rustle of grass.

  One of the men nodded, and the others all followed him, taking off into the darkness.

  Fes moved slowly, staying low, and when he reached them, he attacked.

  This time, he managed to bring down one of the men before he made a sound, but the other two were better prepared. One of them gave out a shout of warning before dying in a quick spray of blood. The other fell shortly after.

  A group of men—probably ten or more—started out into the night. One of them had a torch which he held out, parting the darkness.