Chapter 8
Five years after the war between Harlston and the rest of Nevermere was won
Kael
“Good morning.”
I ran downstairs, slapping my flying gloves against my leg, before walking up to Mother. She was stirring a massive pot of oatmeal but paused to present her cheek for kissing.
“Give me a second and I’ll make you some breakfast,” she said.
“I’m not a boy who needs cosseting anymore, Mother.”
She let the wooden spoon stand up in the oatmeal as she turned to me.
“You’re my boy.” Her hands flicked away imaginary dust from my flying leathers. “Now eat.”
“You heard your mother.” Barry was older, more grizzled now, but still just as grumpy. Probably because he was eating a bowl of oatmeal, not fresh sizzling rashers of bacon and eggs.
“I did and I’ll eat something when I return from the patrol,” I replied.
“I’ll stay for breakfast.” Lorien appeared, but when he went to sit down at the dinner table, Dain slapped him upside the head with his gloves.
“You’ll get your arse on ‘Fang’s back, is what you’ll do.”
The children at the table all giggled. We had far fewer than before the war. Barry was officially retired once my father was thrown from his own parapets, but when we found children orphaned from the conflict, we brought them back to the estate for Mother and Barry to care for.
“Something’s going to happen?” I asked Dain cautiously.
His eyes went blank for a second, becoming filmy, but with a blink that was dismissed.
“A dragon.”
“Here?”
I didn’t need to direct the others to follow. The three of us were marching towards the lake where our dragons were lounging around, enjoying the morning sun. Barry emerged, strapping on his sword, but Mother rushed over to grab his arm.
“You stay here, Bartholomew Sanson!”
“She used your full name, Barry.” Lorien grinned over her shoulder. “Looks like you need to sit this one out. Up, ‘Fang, you lazy bastard.”
But as our dragons lumbered to their feet, we discovered what Dain meant.
“See that?” Barry said, shielding his eyes as he stared at the sky.
I did. A small black spot in the clouds, but I knew what it was. Someone had sent a bloody dragon to our estate. Children came rushing out in response to the fuss, but Mother herded them back inside. My gloves were jerked on and then I was up and over the fence, Slate already waiting for me.
“Steady, lad,” I said once in the saddle.
We will blast this idiot out of the sky? My dragon positively throbbed with territorial anger. I will tear him, limb from limb.
A tiny thing like that? I measured the size of the dragon with my eyes and saw it was one typical of the Royal Riders.
They were sleek, fast things, but they would never outmatch the three of us.
Drathnor was an ancient dragon and her sons were of her line, not the royal one.
Each one of our beasts could’ve chewed this interloper in two with barely a thought.
He’s not worth your time. We’ll see what he has to say and then decide whether or not you dine on dragon for breakfast.
Slate let out a huff of breath, making clear what he thought of that plan, as his brothers clustered closer.
“Stay grounded,” I ordered. “Let him come to us, unless there’s a sign of aggression.”
Lorien grinned.
“He’ll rethink his life decisions right quickly if he tries to flame us.”
“No aggression.” Dain was perfectly still and so was Argent, the two of their minds melding. “A… messenger?”
“Then let’s see what news he brings this way,” I replied.
The dragon landed some way away. A hereditary wariness, I was willing to bet. His rider bustled up, looking around the estate with a familiar look in his eyes: greed.
“I come bearing a writ from the Prime Minister.” We all just started at this officious fool. He might have all sorts of silvery insignias on his uniform, but that meant nothing here. “He has given me this land—”
“He did what?”
Slate took a ponderous step forward. I took satisfaction from the way the man went milk pale, his dragon swiftly joining him. A pretty blue beast, its neck snaked around his rider in a protective gesture.
The blue one doesn’t want me to eat his bondmate, Slate said.
I see that too, lad.
I won’t. Slate’s throat started to rattle, the threat clear, but just in case this ‘messenger’ missed the point, quicksilver leaked from his jaws, instantly eating away at the grass and soil under it. That was the moment when the rider realised exactly how much danger he was in.
“Who are you?” His voice was shrill. “What wing do you belong to? What is your rank? How did you come by land that was gifted to me by the crown?”
He went to wave that silly piece of paper again, but Slate lunged forward, plucking it from his fingers and then passed it to me.
“Kael of Blackreach,” I replied as I read the text.
“No rank to speak of and my wing is my own. As to how we came to occupy this land.” I looked up, spearing the rider with my gaze as the dragons moved closer.
“This is our territory, and if you wish to stay alive, you must get back on your dragon and ride as far as you can from here.”
I admired the man’s gumption. He was going to argue, but his dragon picked him up and deposited him on his back, before taking to the air. We followed them with our eyes until they disappeared completely.
“Can I see that?” Barry had appeared by my side, holding out a hand for the writ. I passed it over without comment, waiting for him to be done. “The crown is carving up Nevermere into territories,” he said. “Giving chunks to dragon riders.”
“Don’t they all live in that keep of theirs?” Lorien asked.
“Not since the war.” Barry shook his head. “Dragons need mates, their own territory to be happy, and so the crown is ensuring they get it.” He crumpled the paper into a ball. “By giving away our land.”
“Not for long,” I promised. “We’ll head for that keep.”
“Kael, no!” Mother said.
“See the king for ourselves,” Dain growled.
“Make them realise what a mistake it would be to give away our estate to a Royal Rider.”
Lorien held out both fists, and we leaned forward to bump them.
“We’ll have this sorted quickly, Mother,” I told her. “Be back in time for dinner.”
“You see that you do!”
She shouted that as Slate started to move, all three dragons picking up speed before launching themselves into the sky.
In all my days, there was nothing as grand as flying on dragon back. I flattened myself against Slate’s spine to reduce wind drag.
Ready to show those puny royal beasts what a real dragon looks like? I asked.
They’ll rue the day they thought to give our territory away to inferior dragons, he growled as his wings raked through the air.