Page 33 of Of Blood and Banes (The Arterian #2)

HYDRA’S KEEP

H oly hells if this ride isn’t the most difficult one I’ve had yet. After we’ve put a healthy distance between us and the masked person, Daeja slows to a rhythm of flapping only enough to keep her at a glide.

“Are you alright?” she asks.

“Mmhmm,” I answer with my eyes closed while I focus on settling my racing thoughts and queasiness. Each breath I pull in through my nose and push out through pursed lips.

“Let’s ummm…not tell A’nala and Sethan they might have been right?”

“Agreed.”

When we land, my entire body aches from all the built-up tension.

I slide off Daeja, rolling my head and shoulders.

The other dragon riders dip their heads at Daeja and me as we stride toward them, and Sethan turns his attention to me.

They’ve stopped on a hillside overlooking a town bustling with people throughout the cobblestone streets.

Rows and rows of buildings with angled, brown wooden roofs stretch into the sky.

I glance behind my shoulder like the masked person might show at any second.

“Welcome to Driftmond.” Sethan motions toward the town.

“Considering rebels can be hiding anywhere in the Dragon Lands, I suggest you keep quiet and to yourself. Do not speak of the ring, nor the King. The rest of our people should be showing up soon. We flew slow and looped around so they weren’t too far behind.

In the meantime, we owe you a drink. Come. ”

The thought of anything in my stomach makes me cringe.

But I push it away, unwilling to admit my mental, emotional, and physical state to Sethan.

He and the other dragon riders lead us to one of the buildings on the outskirts of Driftmond, with a wooden sign hanging above the door that says Hydra’s Keep .

One of the male dragon riders swings the thick wooden door open, and cheery bubbling conversations spill out, followed by music.

I smile. I’d heard a fiddle once before in Padmoor when a musician was traveling through to get to Groveden.

Cole took me by the hand and at the time, we were only friends.

But the way he spun me about, out in the sunny crowded streets while passersby glared, I knew he’d become so much more than a friend.

I think that moment was when I first fell in love with him.

Sethan tosses a silent look to A’nala, and she folds her wings at her sides, then leans hard into Daeja, herding her away toward the back side of the building. The other dragons follow suit, disappearing around the corner. I’m really missing the days when she was small enough to fit inside a door.

We humans pile into the crowded tavern, torches lining the walls and bustling with loud patrons.

Despite the fact I’m still wearing the black leather gloves Marge gave me, I slide my hands into the pockets of my winter jacket and scan every person we pass.

My mind wanders to the thought of how many of these people might try to kill me if they knew I wore the Blood Ring.

Sethan leads us into the farthest corner, and a group of people settled at the table quickly rise once they see who’s approaching them.

They dip their heads and motion to their table before disappearing into the throng.

I suppose being the leader of the Vitalans has its perks.

One of the dragon riders breaks off from our group to the bar.

Sethan has me sit nearest the window in the farthest corner of the room and takes a seat next to me, his shoulders facing the tavern door.

It doesn’t surprise me when I see a flicker of movement outside the window and spot Daeja settling herself on the other side like my own personal guard dog.

“They should have installed a drawbridge here,” she calls.

“That’s never stopped you,” I chuckle.

She wiggles her body, tucking her front legs under herself.

A’nala sits next to her with her head held high.

Daeja’s tail slides back and forth on the ground, knocking into A’nala’s tail repeatedly.

The red she-dragon bares her teeth at Daeja, and Daeja opens her own jaws.

A’nala mirrors it, and they both clash into what can only be described as sparring with their jaws and teeth as the other dragons watch.

“Relax. A’nala won’t draw blood if she has to put Daeja in her place,” Sethan says as a stein slides in front of me.

I catch it with my left hand before it can tip over and spill. I lift the heavy mug and take a sip before grimacing. “Her place ?”

“Don’t forget, she’s still a juvenile with much to learn. Dragons tend to work in hierarchies, similar to wolves.”

I glance outside, and A’nala snorts at Daeja, the two of them concluding the sparring and settling back down. The other dragon riders sitting at the table with us dive into their own side conversations. Four of them are men, two are women. All are at least in their forties.

I clear my throat to distract myself from the bitter taste of the ale and ask, “You mentioned earlier training all of your dragon riders…as if there’s some formal process?”

Sethan takes a sip of his own drink. “Yes, we have an academy for dragon riders in the northwestern part of the continent.”

“So…it’s not just the seven of you?”

“No. Many have gone through the academy. Though, our numbers have dwindled significantly since Cyrus’s death.”

“Why?”

“He led the academy. And while he never had a dragon of his own, he trained all the cadets in how to bond them. After he died, no one was able to train cadets as well as he had. And since we lost the lesser rings when King Aaric took the throne, people have become less inclined to become dragon riders.”

I glance sideways at him. “What lesser rings?”

Sethan sighs, but when we make eye contact his exasperation wanes.

“Lesser rings were created to manipulate dragons’ magic by their bonded riders.

Back before Aaric ruled, if you graduated from the academy within the top ten percent of your class, you’d be immediately placed in a position of whatever field you were studying.

The leaders of those fields were ones who bore lesser rings.

But Aaric destroyed all of them in the Great War, and the dragon riders who wore them. Nobody knows how to remake them.”

“So, if lesser rings manipulated a dragons’ magic, you could essentially control dragonfire? Just like how the Blood?—”

He gives me a look and I fall silent before I finish my sentence. Right. No need to mention the Blood Ring in such a public place. Even if the chatter is a dull roar, with music tinging, and the patrons’ eyes are everywhere but us.

“Exactly,” he whispers. “So, for example, A’nala’s a typical fire dragon.

She can produce flames and sustain dangerously hot temperatures.

She’d be able to bask in a volcano if she was so inclined.

But if I had a lesser ring, I’d be able to do those same things using her magic as a source, rather than conjuring it up myself from the ley lines like the one you have.

One of the other fire dragons in our group used to be able to lift earthly matter.

But…he’s getting quite close to retirement.

I don’t think he’d be able to lift more than a stone the size of your palm. ”

“Would that mean his rider, if they were wearing a lesser ring, also couldn’t lift more than a stone? Even if the rider is much younger and stronger than their dragon counterpart?”

“In theory, yes. Because a dragon’s magic isn’t infinite. Which is why the lesser rings are called that specifically?—”

A flash of silver slices through the air between Sethan and me then sinks into the wall behind us.

Sethan grabs the back of my jacket and throws me to the ground, knocking the stein clear out of my hand.

I land sideways on the ground as beer streams off the table and pelts me in the side.

The otherwise normal buzzing of conversation turns into a tense clamoring of panicked shouts. The music cuts.

“Get down!” Sethan snaps, hunching his body over me protectively.

The boots of the dragon riders sitting on the other side of our table rush into the crowd, and the smashing of glass explodes over the chaos, showering remnants of the window over the nearest bodies. Daeja’s roar combines with several others, all differing in timbres and pitches.

I unsheathe a dagger from my side, and Sethan mirrors my movements, his eyes trained on the crowd beyond the wooden table’s legs.

A familiar black, scaly muzzle reaches through a broken window.

Daeja’s mouth parts with saliva dripping off her teeth in long strings as her nostrils flare.

She snatches the back of a patron’s hem and tears them back off their feet, revealing a masked person.

My stomach drops. Fuck, I should have told Sethan about the masked person back in the forest.

The masked person scrambles to get loose with a scream. But it’s no use. Daeja whips them up out of view like they’re nothing more than a ragdoll.

“Tell her not to eat them,” Sethan whispers. “Some dragons can become addicted to human blood.”

“Daeja, do not eat ? —”

“I know. I know,” she sighs. “Though, I’m not sure if they’re playing dead or actually are. I didn’t bite that hard.”

“Guess that takes questioning out of the picture.”

“There’s more of them, though. At least ten from what I can see.”

A new explosion of glass shatters over the sound of patrons fighting, and Sethan tugs me up and shoves me back into the corner, my shoulder blades flush with the wall.

He shifts in front of me, balancing his weight on the balls of his feet with his hand outstretched in front of me in a protective stance. “We need to sneak you out the back. A’nala and the other dragons are plucking them out through the windows, but there’s too many of them.”

“Who are they?” I glance up at the dagger in the wall above us. “Trying to kill me? Or you?”