7. Orvak.
Orvak.
JAYCE
T he dragons fought over a village in West Hargos, the twin continent, across the Crimson Sea. The blue waters reflect sunlight like millions of gems below us, and the air smells like home. It’ll take the Blunder two entire days to fly over the sea separating the two sides of the kingdom.
Light footsteps echo behind me— Harlow . I’ve made a habit of recognizing every crew member from the way they moved across the decks. It barely took me a day to learn his.
“Do you miss it?” he asks, standing by the bulwark. “Sailing the Crimson Sea.”
How can I answer this simple question while being truthful about what I feel?
Yes, I miss the brine and the taste of salt on my lips. The sun beating down on my shoulders as I worked the sails with my crew. I even miss the storms, for each one you survive leaves you a different man.
“Yes, terribly,” I simply admit.
Harlow smiles sadly, as if he knows what I left unsaid. There’s a depth to our new dragoner, one I didn’t suspect. The burn scars along his back tell of a different past than a simple, sheltered life. I want to pick his secrets like a lock.
“Ever been to West Hargos?” I ask.
The west is the less… civilized side of Hargos, as the king’s subjects like to point out.
The few cities are on the Crimson West Coast, also known as the Highlands, and what lies beyond are the Wilds.
Up in the north, woodlands and old-growth forests dominate the landscape, and south, the Scorched Land, a desert surrounded by active volcanoes.
A previous king fought over the ownership of West Hargos with the local rulers and tribes for decades.
He won, and Hargos became two, West and East—the two sides of a coin, ever at odds with one another.
Harlow shakes his head. “I have traveled little. My adoptive father was a busy man. And then later, I enrolled at university, and I had even fewer opportunities.”
Adoptive father . He said it before, but I didn’t linger on the information.
“Are you an orphan, Harlow?”
He frowns. “I am. What should I expect from West Hargos?”
Deflecting. Very well, Your Royal Highness. Keep your secrets for now.
“Raw beauty,” I say. “The other side is incredible, especially from the sky. There are no fields or pastures beyond the coast. No great cities and highroads…”
“But more dragons.”
“Oh, yes.” Like any decent dragoner, Harlow smiles at the prospect of seeing more of the winged creatures. “Someday, you’ll need to tell me how this obsession of yours started.”
He blushes. “It’s a long story.”
“Choose your moment, and you’ll have my undivided attention.”
You already have most of it , I almost add.
Harlow is a distraction I can’t seem to resent.
The dragon attacked a small coastal village called Bershine.
The column of smoke can be seen from miles away, attracting fire scroungers like a beacon.
I hope we’re the first to arrive. We were lucky to be at the Devils’ Cove, across the Crimson Sea from the village, when we got the message.
And my contacts in the dragoners’ network ensure I’m always among the first to know about dragons’ misfortunes.
As we get closer, the damage caused by the dragon is daunting. She scorched the gardens, burned the houses down, and, from the look of it, toppled entire stone buildings with her claws.
“Holy shit,” Kuroki says. Like the rest of the crew, he has come to the bulwark to witness the disaster.
Dragons aren’t supposed to attack. It has happened before, once or twice, but always when some imbeciles poked them a little too hard. If you shoot a cannon at a dragon, don’t come crying if the beast chases you with fire.
“What could have caused such a rampage?” Alara asks.
“That’s what I want to find out,” answers Harlow. He looks a little pale, and sweat shines on his porcelain skin even though there’s a cool wind coming from the north. “Can we land?”
I nod. “We have to ask the survivors where the dragon fell.”
Asking questions of people who went through a traumatic event is always difficult—they have other things on their minds and different priorities—but you can get answers by catering to their immediate needs.
For example, offer them food and medical supplies.
The Blunder ’s cargo hold contains crates for such needs.
The entire crew unloads a dozen of them at the farm where the survivors have taken refuge some distance away from the smoldering village.
An old dragoner—judging by the guild’s dragon pin on his doublet—is the first to come to meet us.
He looks worse for wear, the hair of his beard singed close to the skin on one side.
Dragons are plentiful on West Hargos, and dragoners eager to get closer to the subjects of their study flock to towns and villages.
He must have been the one who sent the message through the network.
“Thank you,” he says, eyeing the crates. Then he gestures for the abled villagers to come and get the supplies. “You’re fire scroungers?”
“Yes,” I say.
“Don’t look so bothered. You’re the first to come to our aid.
Caravans are on the way from Alabastra, but it’ll take days before they reach us.
Apparently, they couldn’t spare a royal airship.
” He chuckles bitterly. “Thanks to your supplies, we might make it through the week. I’ll show you exactly where the dragon died. He fell into the ocean.”
I share a glance with Alara. If only all the people we encountered were as helpful as this dragoner, our job would be a constant delight.
“What happened?” Harlow asks his colleague as we follow him to the farm. “I’m the dragoner on board.”
The man rubs his singed beard. “I have no idea. I’ve never seen a female act in such a rage. She descended on us yesterday morning and tore through the village with dragonfire.”
“Did anyone attack her or…?”
The dragoner slows his pace. “Attack? We’re not crazy. And Bershine is but a small village of fishermen.”
“Did anyone come through here?”
But before offering an answer, the old man disappears inside the farm, gesturing for us to wait outside. From the moans and cries coming from the main building, this is where they sheltered the wounded.
Moments later, the dragoner comes back with a book and a quill. He opens the book, revealing a map of this part of the coast and draws a circle over the sea.
“The male fell around here when the female tore his head off,” he says. “He’s brown, so he shouldn’t be too hard to locate underwater.”
“Orvak?” Harlow asks, naming the dragon.
“Yes. He was much older than the female—Alduin—and almost as big, but she was enraged.”
I don’t make a habit of remembering dragons’ names, but this one snags on my memory.
Harlow’s eyes widen. “Alduin was here, so far from her lair?”
The old dragoner nods. “She’s a beauty. Orvak tried to fly away once she refused to mate, but she gave chase over the sea, and that’s where… well, you know.” The dragoner looks about to shed a tear.
“Thank you kindly. We’ll be on our way immediately,” I say before both men can launch into an ode about the fallen dragon.
It looks like we’re the first fire scroungers on site, but let’s not wait and see.
But before we can leave, the man adds, “And yes, an aristocrat with his airship and crew came through here a few days ago. They landed to buy food before flying deeper into the Wilds.”
At that, Harlow’s frown deepens. “An adventurer?”
“Looked like it, but they were a serious bunch. Not a smile to spare.”
“Did the airship have a name?”
“I didn’t bother asking,” the old dragoner says. “But they had one of these new slick models, with an arrow-shaped balloon and black sails.”
Harlow is already lost in his thoughts.
“Thank you for your help. We’ll be going,” I say.
The man waves tiredly as the Blunder takes off.
“Have we done enough?” Alara asks as we fly away from the farm and the survivors.
I sigh. “No. But we did more than most. And we have a job to do.”
We fly the Blunder over the beach and the crystal-blue water, high enough to get a good view of the area marked on the map. The dragoner was right, the dragon is easy to find, like a dark anomaly on the white sand.
“Orvak…” Harlow whispers as we come closer. “He was over seventy years old.”
Quite the specimen, for a male. If we’re lucky and the liquid-fire sac is still intact, it’ll be a good harvest.
“Do you notice how there are no sharks and fish around the carcass?” I say.
Harlow looks at me. “Because even in death, they fear a dragon?”
“Pretty much. But as soon as he’ll start to bloat and rot, they’ll find their way to him. Let’s get to work.”
Alara and Freddy are already anchoring us as best as they can to the rare rocks on the ocean floor. Luckily for us, the dragon fell into the turquoise waters and not in the deeper parts where we wouldn’t have been able to reach the carcass.
“Jayce,” Harlow calls behind me.
He’s been using my name more often. I love it. “Yes, Your Highness?”
He looks unsettled—a rare expression on our ballsy dragoner. “I can’t swim.”
I stare at him for a moment, and he squirms. It must have been difficult for him to admit weakness, and I don’t plan on making him regret it.
“You won’t have to swim, don’t worry. We’ll use the floaters and a diving mask. You can point directions to me. How does that sound?”
And to think I almost pushed him in the water twice. I shiver, realizing the risks I took without being aware.
Harlow takes a deep breath and nods.
I strip down to my underwear and dive into the blue just as Kuroki and Wilbur lower the crate with the tools we need for the harvest. So far north, the water is cold, even in summer, and the air gets knocked out of my lungs.
We’re a long way from the Green Isles’ tropical climate, but it feels good to swim in the Crimson Sea again.
Most pirates don’t know how to swim, but I was raised in Mandinka, the capital city of the Green Isles. When I was a child, my mother often took me spear fishing.
Harlow lowers himself onto the rope ladder, wearing only his brown pants.
I’ve already seen him naked two days ago at the hot springs, but I must admit I still can’t keep my eyes off him.
The dragon tattoo on his back is a masterpiece.
I wish he hadn’t gotten the tattoo to cover the extensive burns on his back.
I’ve seen such wounds after the attack on the Devils’ Cove.
Dragonfire does that to the victims who stand in its path. More than half didn’t survive.
I want to get answers, but I have a feeling I won’t get any if I push him.
I wait for him at the bottom of the ladder with the floater.
“Be prepared. The water is cold,” I warn him. He seems to hesitate for a moment, the fear of the open water closing in on him. “I’ll catch you, Your Royal Highness, and I won’t let you drown. I promise.”
Harlow hesitates, then our eyes meet, and he must have decided he trusted me because he lowers himself into my arms seconds later.
He gasps as the water reaches his torso, and soon, he’s shivering like a leaf in the wind.
It makes me want to hold him closer and share my body heat with him. We’ll just have to hurry.
When he has calmed down, I offer him the floater, and he hangs onto it for dear life. There are handles sewn to the sides. We used it back in the day when the Blunder still sailed the Crimson Sea and a crew member fell overboard during a storm or an attack.
Alara jumps in the water and ties the floater with a rope to the anchor chain to ensure he won’t drift with the current.
“Alright?” I ask.
Harlow nods, his usually sweet mouth pressed into a hard line. He has left his glasses on the Blunder and in their absence I notice more freckles on his cheeks and nose. I help him put on the diving mask—he’ll be able to see what I’m doing from the surface and guide me—then I put mine on, too.
“Gesture if you need my help and I’ll come running—or swimming, I guess. Don’t hesitate.” He nods again vigorously. “Good man,” I say before diving.
Underwater, the dead dragon looks terrifying. Like the fish and sharks, my first instinct is to get away as fast as possible. But Orvak is dead, his fire extinguished forever, and there’s nothing to fear.
The carcass is a few meters deep, but nothing I can’t handle.
Freddy and Alara swim on the surface, handling the tools.
Today, we’re using the longest tube we have for the pump.
Seawater will certainly get into the bottles, but it’s not a big deal.
Liquid-fire burns, no matter how wet it gets.
That’s how dragons breathe fire, even during a rainstorm, and why it makes such terrible weapons.
Douse a building in liquid-fire, and nothing will stop the flames until they have consumed the fuel entirely.
I survey what we’re working with. The dragon fell to his side, luckily for us, and we’ll be able to reach the liquid-fire sac through the ribs.
His giant wing almost floats to the surface, the leathery membrane catching the current like a sail.
I swim back to Harlow, and he gives me precise directions on where to pierce the skin, based on the pattern of the scales. I take a deep breath and dive.
Burying the pump into skin and muscles is hard underwater, and I have to put my entire weight on it. The first try is unsuccessful; all we suck is blood and seawater. I have to try it four more times, following Harlow’s underwater impatient gestures, before I find the liquid-fire sac.
Freddy pumps from the surface, and we fill over two dozen bottles. That’s all we’ll be able to harvest from the dragon today. Everything else will be too dangerous underwater—or spoiled.
I take one last look at Orvak. His head is missing, certainly to be found somewhere at the bottom of the sea. The old dragoner was right; the cause of death was decapitation.
Dragons really are something .
When I swim back to the surface, Freddy and Alara are already hauling the tools and bottles back on the Blunder . Harlow is shivering more than ever, his lips now a bluish tint, but he’s smiling.
“What’s gotten you all excited?” I ask him, encircling my arms around the floater. I’m far too aware of where our cold skins touch.
“It’s beautiful underwater. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
No. You’re beautiful. “Wait until you see the coral reef and the fish in the Green Isles. I’ll teach you how to swim, and we’ll go spear fishing.”
Harlow grins. My eyes land on his blue lips. They look delicious, like berries waiting to be tasted.
“Jayce, I—” he begins.
“Jayce!” Kuroki calls from the Blunder . “We’ve got company!”