Dragon Bonds (Return of the Darkening Series Book 3) by Ava Richardson Page A
Authors: Ava Richardson
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don’t have time to go chasing legends right now.” Even just talking about that one Dragon Stone left me worried. The other stones seemed to have hurt us more than they’d helped.
Beris gave a groan. “Why am I tied up? What’s going on?”
Syl muttered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I nodded to Varla. “Can you untie them?”
She bit her lip but she nodded.
Glancing at Seb, I asked him, “Are you sure about this?”
He was looking pale—even more so than Syl. He pushed my hands away and stood. “We need to get back to the Academy. We have to find out everything we can about the Dragon Egg Stones—all of them.”
I shook my head. “Our duty—to the king?”
Seb rubbed a hand over his face. “Me and Merik—we’ll cover for you. You and Varla go. Find what you can.”
“If there are still any books left,” Varla muttered. She’d untied Beris and he was untying Syl now. They were going to have a lot of apologizing to the king, but maybe they’d be able to make up for what had happened with some information on Lord Vincent.
Merik gave a nod and patted Seb on his shoulder. “We’ll cover.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Seb was already waving his hands for us to clear out. “Go on, Thea. This really can’t wait. Get back as soon as you can.” Varla grabbed my arm and started for the door, pulling me with her. I shot a look back to see Seb leaning on Merik. Behind them, Beris and Syl were just starting to stand, both looking as if they might be sick; their skin was so pale and their hands shaky. Seb didn’t look much better.
How is Seb going to be able to cover for anyone, in his state?
But Seb wanted information, and I had to help Varla get safely back here.
* * *
“ T he Academy ,” Varla said, pointing to a dark shape.
The sun had set and before the battle, the Academy would have had torches lit. There should be guards and noise and the sounds of irritable dragons trying to get some sleep. Tonight, I could only see darkness. The lonesome screech of an owl echoed from somewhere over the brow of the hill that led up to the Academy.
“Weapons,” I whispered, raising my sword in one hand. I wore a small, buckler shield high on my other forearm, near the elbow. I didn’t know what we might find.
Beside me, Varla nodded, pulling her long sword, which she held two-handed. I had seen Varla fight many times before, but usually in practice. I still hoped we could get in and out without trouble. We’d decided walking would be safer than bringing dragons into this—we were trying to be quiet and stealthy.
I stumbled on something and looked down. A wickedly curved claw, almost as long as my sword, lay on the ground—it must have been torn from a wild dragon. “Curse him,” I muttered.
“Who?” Varla hissed.
“The Darkening. Lord Vincent. Leading people and dragons to their deaths.” It wasn’t right. We had to find some means to defeat the Darkening forever.
The front gates of the Academy lay on the ground, broken into splinters. They’d been by an iron-shod collection of poles, bound together to form a giant battering ram. I was just glad I couldn’t see—or smell—any bodies. The Wildmen were said to carry off their own dead, and to eat the dead of any enemies. I was hoping that last part wasn’t true.
With a shudder, I stepped over the rubble and into the main yard, which had once been our practice yard. Moonlight glinted off broken weapons and battered armor. Again, I didn’t see any horned helmets or cloaks of the Dragon Riders.
“Someone has cleared away our dead,” I said, knowing with certainty that we had lost lives that night.
“But why would the Wildmen do that—bury their enemies?” Varla said. “You don’t think the old stories are—”
“Let’s not think. Maybe it’s some strange tribal custom of theirs?”
“Look!” Varla pointed up to the map tower, which was now a blackened spur of rock. Merik would hate to see that—the map
Beris gave a groan. “Why am I tied up? What’s going on?”
Syl muttered, “I think I’m going to be sick.”
I nodded to Varla. “Can you untie them?”
She bit her lip but she nodded.
Glancing at Seb, I asked him, “Are you sure about this?”
He was looking pale—even more so than Syl. He pushed my hands away and stood. “We need to get back to the Academy. We have to find out everything we can about the Dragon Egg Stones—all of them.”
I shook my head. “Our duty—to the king?”
Seb rubbed a hand over his face. “Me and Merik—we’ll cover for you. You and Varla go. Find what you can.”
“If there are still any books left,” Varla muttered. She’d untied Beris and he was untying Syl now. They were going to have a lot of apologizing to the king, but maybe they’d be able to make up for what had happened with some information on Lord Vincent.
Merik gave a nod and patted Seb on his shoulder. “We’ll cover.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but Seb was already waving his hands for us to clear out. “Go on, Thea. This really can’t wait. Get back as soon as you can.” Varla grabbed my arm and started for the door, pulling me with her. I shot a look back to see Seb leaning on Merik. Behind them, Beris and Syl were just starting to stand, both looking as if they might be sick; their skin was so pale and their hands shaky. Seb didn’t look much better.
How is Seb going to be able to cover for anyone, in his state?
But Seb wanted information, and I had to help Varla get safely back here.
* * *
“ T he Academy ,” Varla said, pointing to a dark shape.
The sun had set and before the battle, the Academy would have had torches lit. There should be guards and noise and the sounds of irritable dragons trying to get some sleep. Tonight, I could only see darkness. The lonesome screech of an owl echoed from somewhere over the brow of the hill that led up to the Academy.
“Weapons,” I whispered, raising my sword in one hand. I wore a small, buckler shield high on my other forearm, near the elbow. I didn’t know what we might find.
Beside me, Varla nodded, pulling her long sword, which she held two-handed. I had seen Varla fight many times before, but usually in practice. I still hoped we could get in and out without trouble. We’d decided walking would be safer than bringing dragons into this—we were trying to be quiet and stealthy.
I stumbled on something and looked down. A wickedly curved claw, almost as long as my sword, lay on the ground—it must have been torn from a wild dragon. “Curse him,” I muttered.
“Who?” Varla hissed.
“The Darkening. Lord Vincent. Leading people and dragons to their deaths.” It wasn’t right. We had to find some means to defeat the Darkening forever.
The front gates of the Academy lay on the ground, broken into splinters. They’d been by an iron-shod collection of poles, bound together to form a giant battering ram. I was just glad I couldn’t see—or smell—any bodies. The Wildmen were said to carry off their own dead, and to eat the dead of any enemies. I was hoping that last part wasn’t true.
With a shudder, I stepped over the rubble and into the main yard, which had once been our practice yard. Moonlight glinted off broken weapons and battered armor. Again, I didn’t see any horned helmets or cloaks of the Dragon Riders.
“Someone has cleared away our dead,” I said, knowing with certainty that we had lost lives that night.
“But why would the Wildmen do that—bury their enemies?” Varla said. “You don’t think the old stories are—”
“Let’s not think. Maybe it’s some strange tribal custom of theirs?”
“Look!” Varla pointed up to the map tower, which was now a blackened spur of rock. Merik would hate to see that—the map
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