Ruin of Dragons Read online

  Reflexively she brought her arms up to protect her face as she hit ground, but instead of the hard impact she was expecting, she continued down, tearing through a brushy entanglement, flipping over and finally landing on her back some seven feet down from where she thought she should have been.

  After a moment of nothing else happening, she opened her eyes. Petra was lying at the bottom of a large hole, like an enormous rabbit warren, that had been hidden by overgrowth and grass runners across the top. She sat up, brushed the dirt off her face and out of her hair, and looked around. The light filtering down into the hole was enough to illuminate the earthy walls around her, and she realized it was not in fact a hole, but the opening of a tunnel of some kind, one that wound its way down deep into the ground.

  As her eyes began to adjust to the darker interior, she noticed roots plunging through the tunnel at varying intervals, creating a weblike filter. Dirt and earth had fallen in and filled some of the lower gaps. This was not a tunnel that had been used in quite some time. Farther back, the walls began to widen, opening into a larger space before disappearing completely into the black.

  Curiosity taking the place of her earlier hurry, she began examining the root systems, pulling some of the smaller ones away to see if she could create a big enough opening for her to fit through. Not having much success, she realized she'd need shears or maybe a small saw—

  She stopped. She had completely forgotten about the box of her sister's tools she had been carrying. She looked around the floor of the hole, but didn't see anything. They must have still been out on the ground.

  She scrambled up, finding it difficult to get a good foothold on the loose earth, but managed to grab onto a branch and hoist herself upward until her head was above ground level.

  There they were. The box had come out of her shoulder bag, and lay on its side, its lid broken and various handtools strewn over the grass around it. At the near edge of the scatter, Petra spotted a small utility knife within arm's reach. She scrabbled for it, caught hold, then dropped back down into the hole.

  She unfolded it, stepped up to the front layer of roots and tested the knife's edge. Though it was sharp, and made short work of the smaller strands, anything bigger around than her thumb required more effort, and the thickest ones were right out of the question. Still, after a few minutes she had cleared enough to crawl a short way into the tunnel, where she was promptly confronted by the next layer.

  She stopped, looking back toward the way out. This was going to take a lot more work than she was willing to do at the moment, and the thought that she still had lunch waiting returned to the forefront of her mind as she turned to peer back into the darkness of the waiting tunnel. She folded up the knife and put it in her pocket, resolving to come back later when she had more time, and could bring some proper tools with—

  A sudden blast of air blew across her, halting that thought and rooting Petra where she stood. It had come not from the opening behind, but from within the dark chasm in front of her. She stood stock still, listening intently for any hint of sound. Because it had felt not like a breeze, but a breath, warm and moist.

  Her eyes widened as she hoped it had only been her imagination. There hadn't been a sighting in more than four hundred years. And yet—

  She took a step back as a low rumble seemed to vibrate around her. Caught in the roots around the tunnel entrance, she fought her way back, falling out into the main opening as another blast of air washed over her, this one longer and more intense. It was hot enough to bake, and there was no mistaking the taste of sulfur in the air. Petra pulled herself up, but before she could turn, her attention was held momentarily by a brief flash of light down the far end of the tunnel, red and orange and dancing.

  No, she thought in a panic, definitely not my imagination. Then all other thoughts vanished, her muscles frantically propelling her up as she scrambled out of the hole and hurled herself forward, her shoulder bag and broken box of tools forgotten. Oblivious to the foliage clawing across her face and arms, she powered through the underbrush, eventually breaking out of the trees into the main clearing where Rowan's homestead sat.

  Scanning quickly, she spotted movement in the field to the right where Rowan was leading his plow horse Errol, turning up earth to begin planting autumn vegetables. She made for the field, crossed the clearing and hurdled the low fence bordering the two. "Rowan!" she yelled, running across several rows of freshly tilled soil and skidding to a halt, nearly colliding into him. He braced himself as Petra grabbed his shoulders and dropped her head, trying to regain her balance and her breath.

  Rowan frowned down at the rut she had just cut through his nice furrows. "You're going to fix that," he said, then seemed to notice her for the first time. "Why are you covered in dirt?"

  Petra raised her head and the flushed look of sheer panic and terror that he found there was enough to startle him out of his irritation. "What is it?" he asked, looking up into her wide eyes. "What happened?"

  Petra was still out of breath, and sufficiently rattled that she found it hard to find words. The one that did finally manage to come out was loud and forceful.

  "Dragon!"

  Rowan stood for a long moment looking at her, his face confused. Despite the leaves embedded in her mane of hair and the dirt and scratches covering her thin frame, he seemed to be having a hard time deciding whether or not this was one of her games. When he found his voice, he had apparently decided to go with suspicion. "Really," he said.

  Petra's face fell as she looked at the disbelief in Rowan's expression. She turned to look back at the trees, half expecting to see a great beast lumbering out of the forest after her, but there was nothing. Had she imagined it?

  No, she thought, setting her jaw and turning back to Rowan. She opened her mouth and everything sort of tumbled out at once. "Less than a league in that direction," she pointed, "just inside the edge of the forest, I found a cave, a cave with a dragon, and—" Her eyes widened as she made the connection. "And I think I woke it up."

  Petra's mind reeled. There hadn't been a dragon in the area for hundreds of years. She didn't know what to do. No one else she knew would have any idea what to do, either.

  "You know there hasn't been a dragon in this area for more than—"

  "I know!" she interrupted. "I need to think." She tried to recall what little she knew about the creatures. Possessing scales harder than stone and corrosive fire capable of razing entire acres of land, dragons were terribly destructive, a force akin to a natural disaster. You couldn't hurt them, divert them, or stop them, you could only get out of the way and pray they ran their course swiftly. The problem was, after four centuries out of the public consciousness, nothing she knew would be any more worthwhile than folklore. It would certainly take more than a group of villagers waving pitchforks, though maybe if they had enough people. Her sister knew a bunch of the men in town, maybe they could organize a hunting party—

  She stopped. A stray thought had come back to her.

  Strangers with no agenda or affiliation, appearing out of nowhere to help in dire situations…

  "The wizard," she said, turning back to Rowan.

  "What?" he said, trying valiantly to keep up. "This is weird even for you."

  "Sorry," Petra said as she grabbed the lead out of Rowan's hand, unhooked the plow from the horse's harness and climbed up onto the saddle. "Gotta borrow Errol for a bit, be back soon."

  "Wait, what about lunch?" Rowan asked as she reared the horse, turning it toward the road leading back into town. "Where are you going?"

  "To get help!" Petra yelled, kicking the horse into as fast a gallop as the creature could muster.

  Rowan watched as she sped off, her cornsilk hair flying up behind her. "Um, all right," he said to no one. "I'll just be here, then."

  • • •

  The sun had reached its highest point, and Mira could feel
the temperature continuing to rise. She had checked her handheld for the time and was about to put the device away when it pinged an alert. She switched it over to the systems monitor and felt a sudden weight settle in the pit of her stomach.

  The Emergence estimate had dropped.

  She keyed for details. The thermal levels, which had been rising steadily for the last hour, had spiked suddenly. What had been a ninety-minute estimate only a few minutes prior had now dipped below seventy.

  "Castle, we have a problem," Mira said. "Thermals are rising faster than normal. Emergence is moving up." She watched the monitor. Levels continued to spike while the Emergence estimate continued to plummet. "Repeat, Emergence is moving up."

  "ETA?" his voice asked in her ear.

  "Sixty-five … no, sixty. Dropping swiftly."

  "Get ahead of it," his voice ordered. "Gear up, make for your positions, then report in."

  "Copy that," Mira said, standing up and returning the handheld to its case on her belt. "Moving out now. Wasp, you're with me."

  "Acknowledged," Voss's voice came over. "Already en route."

  Mira took a deep breath, looked out to scan the horizon one last time, then vaulted nimbly over the edge of the belfry. She swiveled in midair, her fingertips easily catching an edge in the brickwork and the toes of her boots finding purchase on a shallow ledge, slowing her descent and allowing her to spring out from there toward the street, where she landed lightly and broke into a run. Her movement was fluid and lightning swift as she hurtled toward the east edge of town, barely making a sound as her feet propelled her forward, platinum hair flowing behind her like water.

  At the treeline she met Voss, who stepped out and tossed a helmet up to her. Mira wound her hair up into a loose knot and secured the helmet in place, a faint hiss escaping as it sealed around her collar. "Are you ready?" she asked the dwarf.

  Voss looked up at her through the faceplate of her own helmet, grinning widely. "When am I not?" she asked.

  Mira rolled her eyes and they stepped off, silently making their way south into the treeline. Dressed similarly in dark leather with armored sections across the arms and shoulders, thick gauntlets and high boots, the two made quick time, pushing easily through the forest. But as the trees grew closer together, they found their way slowed as they had to more carefully navigate through the underbrush. Keeping an eye on the systems monitor, they made their way steadily toward the extraction point, their time slipping away dangerously. Emergence was practically upon them, and no one was yet in position.

  • • •

  Not able to take Errol down her usual path through the forest, Petra had stuck to the main road, though travelling by horse she arrived far quicker than she expected. Bolting up the cobbled street, she pulled up to the front of the Corner Tavern and came off the horse almost before it stopped, noting as she did that the bell tower was now absent its previous dark occupant.

  "Stay," she told Errol, rubbing the horse across the muzzle before taking the steps to the walk two at a time. Ducking into the dark cave of the tavern, she stopped a moment to let her eyes adjust. She scanned the tables scattered around the main floor to the right, and the handful of faces inhabiting them, then the bar directly across, finally spotting the lanky figure at the far-left end.

  Gareth Lorr sat hunched over the bar, sipping on a clear drink, the hood of his cloak down and his staff propped up beside. Petra hurried over and stepped up next to him, opened her mouth to speak, but stopped short. Instead of the wizened sage she was expecting, the man sitting before her was alarmingly young, maybe only ten years older than Petra herself. He looked more like a blacksmith apprentice than a wizard, his face tanned except around the eyes, no doubt from the thick goggles perched on his forehead, sporting a mess of shoulder length hair and a close-cropped goatee. He continued to sip on his drink and gave no indication that he was even aware he now had company. Petra blinked, suddenly at a loss.

  "What's wrong?" Gareth asked softly, seeming to sense her confusion. "Not what you were expecting?" He was still looking down at his drink, a slow smile spreading across his face.

  Petra stammered. "I'm sorry, I—"

  "Didn't mean to stare?" he interrupted, finally turning and bringing to bear the most startling pair of ice blue eyes she had ever seen. "Of course not," he continued with a raised eyebrow before turning back to his drink.

  Petra didn't quite know how to respond. She had, of course, caught herself staring, but what she was actually going to say—

  "I know," Gareth said, cutting into her thoughts as he downed the last of his glass and signaled to the man behind the counter for a refill. "But I'm not going anywhere until I'm finished."

  Petra's mouth opened. This wasn't going at all how she hoped. "But you don't even know what I—"

  "Was going to ask?" the wizard prompted, eyeing Petra carefully. "It doesn't matter. You're not ready yet."

  Petra was confused. What did her readiness have to do with anything? "Look," she pressed on, reaching out to grab his shoulder. "You don't—"

  Petra stopped as an image flashed across her consciousness, a shock of recalled memory that interrupted her train of thought. It was vivid and uncomfortable, a foreboding purple sky crackling with electric energy and a pervading sense of cold isolation, startling in its intensity and made even more unnerving by the fact that the memory was decidedly not hers.

  "Understand?" Gareth finished as he turned to face her fully, the image disappearing as he shrugged out of her grip. "No, that would be you."

  Petra was momentarily thrown by the disorienting flash of memory, feeling suddenly exposed and embarrassed, and fought through a rapidly building uncertainty to bring her thoughts back to her original purpose.

  She looked up, shoring her nerve as she expected to find a reproach waiting in the wizard's expression, but instead found only a cool detachment. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to find this amusing, and she deflated somewhat as she realized that he wouldn't be wrong to think so. She exhaled and decided to switch tactics—

  "Let it go, kid," a deep voice interrupted from behind her.

  She turned around to find a man sitting alone at one of the nearest tables, sipping his own drink and looking at Petra with a bemused expression.

  Aris Cobalt had the appearance of someone at odds with himself, almost wholly unremarkable, with close shorn raven hair, dark skin and several days' worth of stubble, but wearing the distinctive gray longcoat of a ranger. His voice, likewise, carried a weight of authority that his posture and demeanor didn't share. He sat fiddling absently with a sidearm on the table, but the weapon looked wrong somehow, like it had too many parts. "Best let him finish his drink," he said. "Gareth can be cranky if he's not fully hydrated." He gestured to the empty chair across from him and Petra walked over and sat down uneasily. The frustration she had built up must have been fairly evident on her face, as he smiled pleasantly, attempting to be as non-threatening as possible. "Name's Aris, by the way," he said, watching her carefully. "Deep breath, kid. It'll be all right."

  All right? Petra doubted that. Her day had started out mundane and gone from unusual to downright strange and potentially dangerous in less than an hour. She leaned forward, some of her earlier urgency coming back to her. "But I—"

  "Need his help? That much I got."

  Petra frowned. "Is everyone going to finish my sentences today?"

  Aris shrugged. "Sorry, been spending too much time with that one. But seriously, take a deep breath. Rushing off unprepared won't do you any good. That's all he meant."

  Petra sighed, feeling more helpless than ever. "I've just never met a wizard before," she said. "Is he always this annoying?"

  "Insufferable," he said. "But don't let him hear you call him that. Wizards are mythical figures. He'll just say he's someone with a unique skillset who makes good use of it."

  "You
sure?" Petra said. "He won't if he keeps drinking like that."

  "I'll let you in on a little secret," Aris whispered with a conspiratorial grin as he leaned closer. "It's water."

  She turned back to see the wizard finish his glass and signal for yet another. Her brow creased, but Aris continued before she could ask.

  "Now," he said, taking a sip of his own drink. "Tell me about your problem."

  Petra didn't mince words. "There's a cave about a league outside of town, a cave with a dragon." She cringed. "I think I woke it up."

  The ranger didn't even flinch. There was no skepticism on his face, no disbelief, just a nod as he took another sip of his drink. "Maybe it'll go back to sleep," he said with a shrug.

  Was he kidding? Petra was suddenly on her feet, leaning across the table. "But what if it doesn't?" She was practically shouting now, drawing odd looks from the nearest tables. "Nobody here knows what to do about a dragon!"

  "You go home," came a soft voice at her side. Startled, Petra looked up to see Gareth standing next to her, his piercing eyes staring down into hers.

  "And you don't come out."

  • • •

  After pushing their way into thicker and thicker clusters of trees, Mira and Voss came across a path of sorts, what looked to be a hiking trail crudely trampled into the underbrush, the way cleared of major obstructions. It meandered a bit but aimed more or less in the direction they needed. More importantly, it allowed them to pick up speed, which was now their primary concern.

  Continuing on unhindered, Mira kept constant check on their location, finally reaching a point where they were forced to break off from the path and cut back into the thicker underbrush. They wouldn't have much farther to go, however; a few hundred yards more and they would arrive at the small circular clearing they had picked for the extraction point.