Page 16 of Dragon Fight

“So it is.” Brom turned and looked across the landscape to a faintly discernible structure of grey stones, some way away.

“Fancy a race, like old times?” Draven asked with a wild grin.

“Let me get on my bloody horse first,” Brom replied.

“And why would I do that?” Draven kicked his horse into a gallop, taking off for the fort, forcing Brom to scramble.

“You’re alright?” he asked me, even as he hauled himself back into the saddle.

“Ah, yes, of—”

Whatever I had to say went unheard as Brom took off after Draven.

“Stupid git.” Ged, Soren and Flynn all appeared beside me, sliding down from their horses, but Ged was the one who was criticising Brom. “Wouldn’t catch me racing after some prince when there’s a pretty girl in need.” He offered me a hand and helped me upright, aiding me in brushing off the heather and mud from my leathers.

“They’ve always been close,” Flynn said, watching the two of them race. “The king sent Draven out to Rutherfeld rather than to his uncle’s castle for a reason. Magnus knew that Raina would insist on Draven being fostered at a Harlston estate, but he didn’t want to strengthen the bond between the duke and the prince. Brom and Draven were supposed to become brothers of a sort. It’s why Brom was always going to become Draven’s wing commander, because of their bond…”

Flynn stopped himself. There was more to the story, but he wasn’t telling it, which made me eye the two horses and their riders, now little more than blurs in the distance, with greater interest.

11

When we arrived at the fort, Brom and Draven were nowhere in sight, the only sign of them their horses drinking water from an old pool. Rainwater had filled the bricked up circle, and though the water looked far too green and mossy for me to want to taste, the horses didn’t seem to mind. As we walked under a crumbling archway, we found them. Draven had scaled one of the walls and was walking along the top of it, and Brom was climbing to join him up there, the two of them recalling childhood memories.

“Remember when we set up camp here?” Draven asked Brom, an almost boyish enthusiasm in his manner right now.

“I remember you stealing that velvet cloak that had been in my mother’s family for generations,” Brom replied, picking his way closer to the prince. He hauled himself up on the lintel, then took a seat there.

“I needed a badge of my royal office as king of this fort,” Draven said with a smile, sitting down beside him.

“She nearly cried when she saw the state of it. They’d kept it safe since one of the Glaines was queen of Nevermere.” Brom glanced at Draven. “Your great, great grandmother or something.”

“I’m sure my ancestress wouldn’t have minded.” Draven sucked in a deep breath. “I forgot about the way this place smells.”

“Like rotting seaweed?” Ged asked with an eye roll.

“Like freedom. The air is crisp, clean, brought in from the northern pole with still a hint of ice in it.”

“I can feel that in my bones,” Soren said, then moved over to pull me close. “I’ll just have to snuggle up to Pippin to keep warm.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Flynn said with a rakish grin. He flicked open one of the lower toggles of my jacket, sliding his ice cold hands against my ribs, forcing a squeak out of me. “So warm…”

“Two can play at that game,” I said, shoving one hand down the front of his pants.

“Oh yes, Pippin…” he moaned, but that quickly turned to a yelp. “Gods above, woman! Your hands are like ice. I can feel my balls crawling right up into my…”

His complaints no longer registered as I looked over his shoulder and caught Draven watching us. All of his former hauteur was back again and then some, turning his eyes to ice chips. He shook his head slowly, as if irritated we were intruding on this space sacred to he and Brom’s childhood when a roar alerted us to a dragon’s presence. Darkspire landed moments later just beyond the ruins.

“Back again, boy?” Draven called out to him. “I know Glimmer’s not much of a queen, but chasing after any is good practice for when Zafira’s new queen is laid.” Darkspire just rumbled at that, then took several ponderous steps forward. The dragon’s focus wasn’t on his master. His head was pointed in my direction and his poison-green eyes burned into mine as he approached.

“Now lad,” Soren said, stepping in front of me and holding his arms out wide. “All is well. All is well.” He shot Draven a quick look. “You’ve got control of your dragon, Draven?”

“Prince Draven.” His Highness’ voice was crisp and resonant with a tone of imperious command. “And of course I have. ‘Spire is just… curious about something.”

The dragon paced forward slowly, giving us plenty of time to move. When I did I glanced down to be sure of my footing. A circular pattern of cobblestones made up the ancient fort’s floor. When I looked a second time I noticed it. At the centre was a domed rock, with lines dividing it into quarters. Lines that would shift, widen with the right stimulus, just as it had at the ruin Flynn had taken me to. This wasn’t the time to do this. I knew that we needn’t share any of our secrets with Draven, that it certainly wasn’t wise to do so, but I stepped forward anyway, into Darkspire’s path.

My men cried out, but the dragon stopped.

I had never felt as small as I did at that moment, with the massive creature looming over me. He slowly lifted his foreleg and when he did, I mimicked his movement with my hand.

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