Dragon Clan #3: Fleet's Story

CHAPTER ONE

Fleet looked over his shoulder and waved a final goodbye to his parents, siblings, and the entire population of the small mountain village he grew up in. All but one. Camilla stood at his shoulder, her eyes red and puffy as she sniffled softly and turned away. She trudged up the hillside, taking the lead as if she was in charge.

“Slow down, we’re supposed to go together,” Fleet called after her, holding back any show of emotion lest he breaks down and cries in her presence. His beard had flushed out during the winter and Dancer, his father, agreed with his intentions for this trip. To ensure the safety of his family, someone needed to find out who had helped Raymer escape from King Ember’s dungeon.

Camilla shot back, “If you can’t keep up with me, go home and let me do this alone.”

Fleet understood the anger behind Camilla’s remark as she increased her pace and drew away. Some believed the responsibility should be hers. In the years since she joined the family she had established she was a full member of the Dragon Clan, and equal to Fleet. No, that was not precisely true. She had convinced the other family members in the last three years, but not him. Not yet.

Before that, she had survived for at least ten years, surrounded by normals, people not of the clan, and without powers. During that time, King Ember had posted huge rewards throughout his kingdom for information about any of the Dragon Clan. She had managed to evade capture. Any knowledge of how the outside world worked made her his superior, and she had the experience and knowledge. He had been raised in the mountains away from contact with normals.

Fleet had listened to her stories of living near them around warm campfires for the last three winters. She had survived alone as a child, living in a cave on a barren hillside near Nettleton, a village located on the King’s Highway to the south. She lived near, and among them. Then she found her way to Myron’s family, on the south slope of Bear Mountain. She had hundreds of experiences he didn’t. She knew things that would help him when he found himself with normals. Not knowing those things might cost him his life if he should slip, and he should feel grateful for her help, but did not.

He resented a girl, at least, two years his junior flaunting her skills and acting as an equal. At the clan meeting, she had offered to help him. She expected to tell him what to do. Advise him, the council had said. Tell him to not bare his dragon mark in front of people. Tell him how to act. How to speak. It was a gentle way of saying that she was in charge of his trip far more than he wished.

Fleet slowed, even more, walking and thinking, as well as using the action to silently protest her officious attitude. She wouldn’t allow him to fall behind, but he needed to consider options. It was early morning, and their first campsite was well known to both and lay only half a day away, so he took his time.

He swung his staff forward and back, letting the weight of it do the work. Then he snapped it to the horizontal defensive position in front of him. A twirl and the center was tucked under his armpit. The exercises were done without thinking because he had done them so many times.

Tiny, early summer strawberries grew alongside the path. He paused and gathered a handful. Later, he came to a bend near a stream where he knew three apple trees grew only a few steps into the forest. He had planted two of them years ago during treks with his father. “Eat an apple, plant a tree,” the mantra went. He picked an apple of an early variety that was so green it would still be hard and tart. He anticipated saving the seeds for planting.

He had finished the strawberries, and almost the apple, when he found Camilla sitting calmly on a fallen log beside the path, her staff resting on the damp ground beside her.

“Are you going to sulk from now on?” She asked.

Fleet sat beside her and continued eating, finally picking out three seeds and slipping them into the leather purse tied to his belt.

She sighed, “Listen, I know you don’t talk much. I get that. I also get that you like to think about what you’re going to say before speaking, but it’s upsetting to people.”

“Why?”

“We never know when you’re going to talk, or if you will. That makes the rest of us talk too much if you see what I mean. We go out of our way to explain things you already know, like I’m doing now.”

Fleet knew he should answer, but perversely held back. Silence became a tool. He had almost never seen anyone get into trouble for being too quiet, but those who talked too much made all kinds of mistakes.

“See? I asked you to talk and instead you sit there with a face set like stone and say nothing. Personally, I don’t know why they even chose you.”

“They chose me because I know more about what happened at the Summer Palace than anyone else, including Raymer. And he was there. I’ve talked with Quint, the son of the Earl of Northwoods, too. He was involved, as well as my father. And I’ve studied the dragons on Bear Mountain all winter.”

Camilla scowled. Her expression said she was about to start another fight with him, but instead, she settled herself and crossed one leg over the other and said, “You know I didn’t want to go with you.”

He shrugged. “You’re the best qualified.”

“I know little of the story we’re chasing. Well, more than that, I suppose because everyone has heard parts of it. But not the details.”

“For now, we’re just traveling to Nettleton getting acquainted with the locals where you grew up, and gathering information. It will give me a chance to be around people. Then we’ll go on to the Summer Palace and stick our noses into the business of others.”

“Do you really think they’ll still be there?”

“The ones who gave Raymer food in his cell?”

She nodded, then said, “But more than that. Who called down the dragon that knocked down the dungeon wall? Only a bonded clan member can do that.”

“There has not been a bonding in the Bear Mountain family for so long we thought it was a myth. Raymer says the same of his Raging Mountain family.”

Camilla closed her eyes and bit her lip. “I know all that.”

“You wanted me to speak more.”

She scowled but held her temper. “Why is there someone living so near both of our families who is dragon-bonded, yet does not contact us?”

He smiled, “Yes, that’s the question we need to answer.”

Camilla stood, looking away from him and seeming as if she was going to stomp off. But, she was quiet, her attention focused far off. “Do you feel that?”

He had felt it for some time and wanted to know when she experienced the same. Several verbal exchanges ago he’d felt the first tiny tickle on his back draw his attention, growing stronger until it evolved into sharp little pins of pains dancing along the birthmark on his back. He’d felt it long before her. “Yes.”

“You spent days and days during the fall on Bear Mountain where they nest. All I know is that you did not bond with one.”

She wanted more information. He decided to be truthful. “I either do not have what a dragon wants, or the right dragon was not there. Actually, there were only three adult females and three hatchlings not yet two years old.”

“They said you approached them.”

“I did. They let me go right up to them after I visited many times, but it was more a tolerant sort of approach, not like when that dragon dropped from the sky at night next to Raymer and bonded with him. Then it was more like a kitten, purring and wanting to get close to and show affection.”

Camilla said, “I heard it let you touch it, but when a normal tried to get close, it looked ready to devour him.”

“Two of them. Quint and Ander, both the sons of Earls, but you knew that, right?”

“I know they are pledged to protect us, but I do not trust them. Do you?”

“With my life.”

That’s it?” she scowled, hands on hips. “With your life, and you say no more? Do you not see how frustrating that is?”

He stood and eased by her on the path. As he took the lead, he said, “Some consider concise speaking a virtue.”

She fell into line behind. “Is that dragon going to follow us?”

“I hope so, but no. Or yes. I have no more information than you.”

“I can’t feel it anymore,” she said.

The path was narrow and twisted. Fleet kept silent about his back continuing to itch. He walked faster, keeping his thoughts to himself. Not only could he feel it, but lately he could tell the direction of the dragon. Often he could also distinguish which one of the three on Bear Mountain, before seeing it. All information he hadn’t shared with anyone yet.

He said, “I have passed nearby one village and stayed at an inn at another. Then we rode for Castle Warrington and arrived as Quint’s father accepted the surrender of King Ember’s general. We were provided rooms in the palace larger than all the huts in our village combined, but we were kept apart from all normal people. That’s my entire experience with normals.”

“They hate us, you know.”

“At that time, they didn’t. They were jubilant, and Raymer’s bonded dragon slept on a turret high above the castle under royal guard for three days and nights. They called us heroes. But while Raymer and Quint attended conferences, my father and I were isolated from the people at the castle.”

“For your protection. One good deed does not take away from lifetimes of hatred and fear,” she said.

Her tone had turned waspish, and Fleet decided to withdraw and use his energy to walk faster. He looked up to the slopes of Bear Mountain and confirmed the snow descended almost to their level. It would be cold tonight. He watched for anything out of place. A footprint, broken twig, or a single noise that was unusual would draw his full attention. He sniffed the air.

For the entire time the touch of the dragon on his back remained, faint and at a distance, but they're all the same. Why? He moved on, deciding that it had nothing to do with him. The dragon had probably landed in a meadow to eat a deer. It was not following or stalking him, just resting and enjoying a meal.

The unfamiliar clothing, he wore was too restrictive. The shirt too small across the shoulders and back, and the bright blue color stood out against any background. Camilla wore yellow as bright as the sun. Both wore baggy peasant trousers made of heavy material that would stand up to hard work and many patches.

She was his sister, for this trip. They were going to visit their mother’s family near Charleston, by way of the king’s Summer Palace. Once in Nettleton, it almost made sense, but the addition of their father’s brother living near the palace completed the tale. They would visit him until his wife healed from a fall.

The council had stressed they say as little as possible to avoid being tripped up in a lie. The suggestion had drawn more than a few chuckles. If Fleet spoke less, he would be mute. That was the joke, but the reality was that he still had concerns about Camilla.

Tonight they would make an early camp and talk far into the night. Despite the orders of the council, he might decide to continue without her. The quest held danger, and he didn’t wish to place his life in the hands of a girl who nobody had known of a few years earlier. They said she was Dragon Clan. She had the dragon mark on her back. But, was she? Deep down?

After living far more of her life with normals than the families of the clan, she might be more attuned to them. The family at Bear Mountain, including Myron and the council, felt different, but he would keep his reservations private for now.

She said, “This is a different route than I followed with Brix.”

“Only stupid ground squirrels have a single burrow for escapes.”

“So now you’re a squirrel?”

His voice sounded light and playful, much like a brother and sister might use. She didn’t deserve his mistrust, and he felt a twinge of regret. “A squirrel who can run faster than you.”

He shot ahead, legs pumping and hair flying back from his forehead. His beard split in half at his chin from the wind, and his feet found purchase to thrust him ahead. A hand on his shoulder bag kept it from bouncing at his side, a wild grin split his face.

At a bend, the path widened. Camilla sprinted past him as if she were running twice as fast. Her brown hair swung from side to side, and as Fleet slowed in frustration, she let out a defiant shout and ran faster.

Fleet stumbled to a stop and tried to catch his breath. He caught sight of her yellow shirt far down the path, still running and laughing. Fleet. Who had given him such a poor name?

When he finally caught up, she sat on a boulder beside a stream with her bare feet in the icy water, her boots sitting on the bank. He explained, “I had to stop and pee.”

She looked at him with false innocence. “Me too.”

Then she laughed, a mellow sound without a hint of malice or offense. He found himself joining her, despite his embarrassment. Perhaps the council possessed more wisdom than he knew. She had never been close to him after she came to live in the village where he had been born. They had seldom had conversations, but that might have been a mistake.

A mistake the others saw through. He was called Fleet because of his speed, yet she ran faster. He had seen her work out with her staff, holding her own against any and all comers, including his father, the warrior in the family.

“I may have made a mistake in not giving you the credit you deserve.”

Her face twisted in anger. “Because I run faster?”

“Yes.” He saw that was the wrong answer before the single word escaped him, and he never had the opportunity to continue explaining her other virtues, including experience. She was already on her bare feet, turning to continue down the path, boots held in her hand.

“Wait. There’s more.”

She ignored him. You said too much. He knew better.

He followed meekly. There had to be a way to make it right with her, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say. The sun reached its midpoint and continued without either speaking. Finally, they burst from the dense forest into a meadow beside a wide stream. On the other side stood a small lean-to, filled with logs for a fire. Nearby, fire-blackened rocks made a ring.

Camilla tossed her staff to the ground and removed the rolled blanket and ground sheet from her hip and spread them with one motion. Her backpack slipped off her shoulders, and she lay down, eyes closed. “I’m taking a short nap. Try not to disturb me too much.”

At a loss for what to say, Fleet placed his things on the other side of the fire ring, quietly. He removed kindling and placed it in the center of the ring along with tinder and a few logs beside. He found his line and hooks in a pocket of his shoulder bag. The stream held trout. In a short time, he had caught four, cleaned them, and waited for the fire to die down to the right cooking temperature.

Camilla slept on her side, her face turned towards him, but he didn’t know if she peeked now and then, or if she was really asleep. No matter. He sat down on his blanket and pulled his knees up to his chin. He had a lot to think about, and so far, his quest had not been the great adventure he hoped for.

Tomorrow they would reach Nettleton, the village where Camilla had been a wildling orphan. People there had believed she was a young boy so wouldn’t recognize the young woman with long brown hair. She had unfinished business there, and it would give him a chance to interact with normals, a task he looked forward to. All he had to do was pretend he knew their ways, and not draw undue attention his way.

But he worried. Among normals, a rip in his shirt revealing the design on his back could cost him his life. He needed experience being around and speaking with people. Camilla would give him the excuse, and she’d be there to cover any slips.

However, their real goal was to eventually locate the unknown person who could order a dragon to attack a palace full of people and topple a dungeon wall. Worse, from Raymer’s description, he suspected that whoever that person might be, he or she was bonded with the dragon, and was not acting alone.

Only adults bond with a dragon. The legs that Raymer saw when the apples were delivered to the window of his cell were either those of a boy child or very young girl, so not a bonded one. The hood pulled over the head prevented him from seeing who it was, but the apple deliverer was short, moving with the uncoordinated grace of a fawn. A child under the age of twelve, but older than six or seven. That meant there was, at least, two of them, and that hinted that there may be more.