Page 17 of Upon Buried Embers (Upon Buried Embers #1)

Rohan

I enter the war tent, ready to hear what has been happening since I left for The Pit at the start of winter.

Every year, we go there to collect lava using reinforced buckets made from dragon scales for Bellamy and his forge. It’s used to reinforce weapons and saddles with dragon scales once dragon fire has melted them.

The flap of the tent opens and Kaldar strides in as I wait on the other side of the table. He’s been with me since he left behind the town he grew up in, wanting a new life. I’m still uncertain of the circumstances that led to his choice, but over the years, I’ve put some pieces together.

As my second, and head of combat, he’s also my closest friend. A brother.

He nods, resting his hands on the table, looking down at the map. “Is this year the year?” He asks, and I fold my arms over my chest.

“It has to be. If she can do what she needs to do, I can get close enough to end it.”

“And can she?”

I shrug. “That’s what we’ll figure out when the time comes.”

He nods. “And that time is coming sooner rather than later.”

I grunt in agreement. “It is. This opportunity has landed in our laps, we must not waste it. No matter what.”

Kaldar looks up, eyes determined. “No matter what.”

Asseya comes in a short while later. She’s skilled in the art of healing, and a prized clan member I saved from a demon that was traveling from the north. He used his will over snakes to torment the innocent, and Asseya was one of them.

I never found out why he was traveling in Dracozar, I didn’t exactly ask. My axe was buried in his skull before he got three words out.

I asked Asseya once, but she shook her head not wanting to talk about it. I respect that wish as she heals my clan.

“Dragonbond.” Asseya bows her head in greeting, holding her hands in front of her as I take in the dark color she puts on her face.

It flows down from her eyebrows to the hollow of her neck in two lines.

A few dots have been added down the bridge of her nose, a custom to healers of her kind, is what she told me.

She says it’s to be closer to the Sky Gods that bless her.

We only bless the Dragon Mother here. But I’m not one to tell her who she can bless. I couldn’t give a fuck.

Next to enter is Dorkin. His hair is in four braids coming down to his waist, and circular glasses perched on his nose. He works on trades between clans, especially our saddles for dragons, and dealing with any relations with the king. That’s something I loathe doing every single time.

He nods in greeting, papers in his hand. I eye them in disdain.

Rhett, head scout, follows shortly after. His skin glistening with sweat. I’ve no doubt he paid a quick visit to his wife.

Calian and Adora enter last.

With everyone around the table, the meeting can begin.

My Keeper of Beasts stands beside Asseya, while Dorkin and Rhett are beside Kaldor.

They’re all on their side of the table, and I stand on my own.

Why?

Because I like being able to see any threats. Is it a bit over the top to do this even with my inner circle? Maybe.

“Calian?” I start.

“All de-saddled and fed, the dragons have gone to the caves to rest up. I checked and all are accounted for.”

I nod. “Kaldor.”

“We lost one person, Aron, to the wild dragon, and a horse and cart.”

“I’ll let his family know.”

“The lava was in another cart, and is being taken to Bellamy as we speak.”

“Good. Asseya?” I turn to the healer.

“We are running low on some plants which I will need to leave to gather. Ester is healing from her cough slowly, but her daughter Ethel…” She looks down and shakes her head. “I couldn’t find the herb with the harshness of this winter. I…”

She didn’t make it.

“She’s to be given a rite with Aron.”

“Of course, Dragonbond. Ester wanted to wait for your return to send her.”

“We shall prepare over the next few days.”

“Of course.” She bows her head.

“Rhett?”

“Scouts are resting tonight before they head out. Meals are being prepared for us and portions are being sorted.”

“For the elf, too?”

“I told them to make less for her.” He shrugs. “She’s tiny.”

My jaw tics. “Which is why she needs the same.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t even know if we have enough, Rohan.”

“Make do.” I dismiss him. “Dorkin?”

“We have traded with Varan for more furs and we provided some saddles. Though it’s less than what we originally expected.”

“The reason?” I ask, back stiffening. Varan has never traded less with us before.

“He says they have no more to offer with their clan growing.”

“That has to be bullshit,” I growl.

Dorkin shrugs. “They seemed far more reluctant to trade with us, but ultimately, they needed the saddles and we needed the furs. So we traded as normal and brought one saddle back with us.”

“Karag’s doing?”

“We can only assume.” Which means it is probably so. “Speaking of Karag, I received a letter that he has summoned a meeting. He wishes to talk about the upcoming Games and The Glade.”

I scowl. “He has never seemed to care about the issues in The Glade before, why is he interested now?”

“Our spies have come up empty so far,” Dorkin replies. “No word has been sent, but they’re due back any day now.”

I sigh and drop my hands, my fingers running over the mask at my hip that shows me as Dragonbond. Drogonah is restless, he won’t like flying to the Graveyard so soon after being in The Pit, but nothing can be done.

A meeting has been called and we all have to be in attendance.

“Then we wait for our spies to return. In the meantime, be vigilant. Rhett saw someone trailing us on the way back, but they managed to evade us.”

“Then it’s worse than we feared if they’re braving the Wilds in this weather,” Asseya says, brows furrowing.

“It is.” We’re running out of time.

“Can we keep them safe?” Adora asks.

“We have so far.”

“I will die before they’re taken!” Calian responds, teeth bared.

“I know you will,” I say to him. “Let us pray we are enough. The plan is enough.”

“And if it isn’t? What if we fail?” Kaldor asks, and I look down at the map.

To the North, it shows half of the king’s army stationed there, fighting with the elves to gain access to the Elven lands. For what reason? It’s unknown, but I may finally be able to find out if all goes to plan.

There are red stones dotted in the Wilds, near our camp. These represent the mercenaries that were sent out to invade us, but we took care of them.

They’re not just from the king, but from another clan too.

One we haven’t been able to find out anything about.

The red stones are in three locations near the mountain behind us. They’re the ones who managed to enter in the few places they could. Their motive is unknown. To steal a dragon? To kill them? Either way, they were torn up, but now we watch the mountain diligently.

The only issue is that we don’t know the full extent of the caves and their exits.

Only the dragons do.

“I will send out a party to scout the surroundings. With the increase of Nighturn found, we can never be too careful,” Rhett says, and I nod.

“I just don’t understand why we cannot be left alone,” Asseya sighs, and I snort.

“That would mean admitting failure, and that is something he won’t do.”

Silence fills the room. We all know it’s true. He won’t stop until he’s the only threat left, and unfortunately, he’s a threat to us and the rest of the clans with the concoction he has in his possession.

“What in Morana is his end goal?” Dorkin shuffles through his papers. “The Games are soon, and there’s unrest in all the clans, not just ours. I felt it when we were trading.”

“The dragons are restless, which makes the Dragorie restless.” I look down at the map one last time, moving a black stone that represents our people. “The Games have been around for seven years, and the only thing we know happens, is death.”

“Death,” Kaldar spits, hands gripping the table so hard it creaks. “Too many of us die in The Games, and for what? Entertainment?”

“We can’t break the truce… not yet, anyway,” I run a hand down my face, exhausted. “Let us rest, it’s been a trying journey, and as you all have seen, about a week ago we picked up an elf.”

“And she will… what?” Rhett says.

“She will help us. Kaldar can fill you in over a hearty meal. Now rest up.”

They all nod and begin to leave, however…

“Asseya?” She halts, turning toward me. “Come to my cabin in the morning, there are some wounds needing to be tended to.”

“The girl?” I nod. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Rohan.”

“That is all I have left.”

“Will it be worth it? In the end, I mean?”

I look down at the map once more.

“It has to be.”

“May Morana guide you,” she says as she leaves.

Morana would probably condemn me.

A dragon roars in the distance, Escor. I shake my head. Damn youngling will be the death of me.

With nothing left to do, and it now being late, I leave, nodding at Dohan, who will guard the entrance to the tent for the night, and make my way back to my cabin.

I would rather be in a tent, but the clan voted that I should have a solid home around me, no matter my protests.

A prickling sensation begins to form under my skin the closer I get to home, knowing who awaits inside. I pause at the entrance, steeling myself.

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and step inside. The flickering candlelight casts eerie shadows around the cabin, and for the first time since I picked up my little elf, I feel foreboding slither up my spine.

I shake it off, I have no time for things like apprehension.

Moving past the living space to my bedroom, I look through the curtain, preferring them over doors. I can see the outline of her tied to a pole.

I push through the curtain. She lays curled up on the ground, her arms around the pole, hugging it and my teeth clench so hard it hurts.

I’m not used to another in my space.

Her scent hits me next. It’s something floral, like a rose, and I tilt my head at her.

She’s asleep, her chest rising and falling slowly, almost too slowly. I’m not sure if it’s normal for elves or it’s because she’s hurt.

Dracozar has been fighting the elves since King Halen’s ascension to the throne some twenty years ago, so I haven’t seen one this close before.

Though I had tried at the border for a time.

King Halen is pushing his army to take over their territory, and any elf they have managed to capture has killed themselves. They would rather be dead than be at the hands of the king.

So how are some being smuggled to Lothmere?

Unless the little elf is lying and she’s a spy. But the collar around her neck…

I crouch beside her, moving her fiery red hair out of the way of her face, my eyes catching on the freckles there.

Such a dainty little thing.

She shivers, and her teeth clack together before she sighs, a little groan following it.

I look to the firepit and the barely visible embers. I shouldn’t be angry that it hasn’t been tended to, no one is allowed in here, but she’s cold.

Stepping past her, I grab some wood and place it in the pit. I poke and prod at it, waiting for it to catch light again and produce some warmth.

I’ll probably sweat my ass off, but she can’t be cold.

Turning, I grab a fur off my bed and haphazardly place it over her. Then, seeing her ear peek out, I touch the tip with my finger. She jolts awake, sitting up, green eyes wide with fear.

She doesn’t say anything as she looks at me, those green eyes mesmerizing me in a way no other has before.

I’m all out of options, I remind myself.

Elves have a way with animals, I spotted it instantly when she was with Serah, and now it’s time to put it even more to the test.

I may have a connection with Drogonah… but, I don’t speak dragon. The elf however, maybe she can.

“S-sorry,” she eventually whispers, lowering her eyes, a subtle tremble to her limbs.

My lips curl in disgust at the weakness. How is she supposed to help me when she’s a frightened little thing? How will she survive what is to come?

She has to survive it.

She says sorry a lot. I’m not na?ve enough to think she has had an easy life, spy or not, but no one has.

We live in the Wilds with the constant threat of death and harsh winters. We barely have enough food.

The clan will never work with her if she acts like this. We don’t do… weakness. Maybe softness at times, but never weakness.

Strength and honor is what Dragorie stands for. To die in battle or dragon fire, to return to Morana, the Dragon Mother. To go back to where it all began.

There is no honor in weakness, and there is no honor in the king’s games.

I stare down at her, her shoulders become more hunched, like she’s drawing in on herself and I stand, not liking it for some unfathomable reason.

We do not do weakness. I repeat to myself.

Without a word, I get into my bed, axe at the side, and I wait, listening for her laying down.

It takes a while, but eventually she does.

She tries her best to be quiet, to not disturb me, but it’s useless.

Anyone else, I would tell them to stop breathing so loudly, to stop fidgeting. But for another reason I’m putting down to exhaustion, I keep my mouth shut.

Tomorrow is the first day she’ll be put to use and she will not disgrace me.

Not while she’s under my claim.