Authors: J.R. Castle
The Flame Dragon (3 page)
Quinn hit the back door with his shoulder and barged it open. He stumbled through, put his head down and ran.
Behind him, he heard Goric roar in anger and something smash inside the cottage as he took out his fury on their furniture. If Quinn could get to the forest, he could hide and he would be safe. The Guard wouldn’t chase him in; it was too tangled and dark, and everyone knew there were things in there that you didn’t want to mess with. Then he could go back for Marta.
The door smashed off its hinges behind Quinn, and Goric pushed his way out.
‘Stop him!’ the Captain of the Guard yelled.
Quinn couldn’t let that happen. He sprinted across the yard, legs pumping. He pushed his hair away from his eyes to clear his sight, and only just in time. One of the guards loomed up in front of him. Quinn darted around him, but his foot slipped and he almost fell. He pushed himself up and ran on.
Just another hundred yards,
he thought,
and I’ll be free!
He put on a burst of speed.
Quinn saw two enormous black figures step out from behind a neighbouring house. He tried to dodge them, but he was running too fast. One of the guards caught him by his arm, spun him around and threw him to the ground. The breath exploded out of Quinn’s chest. His head swam as his skull bounced off the hard earth, dirt clouding his vision.
Before he could even blink his eyes clear, the guard had hauled him up. Quinn struggled, but
the other guard smacked him around the head. Quinn felt suddenly sick.
‘Stop struggling or I’ll do more than bruise your head,’ the guard growled.
Quinn let out a cry as the first guard twisted his arm behind his back. He recognised him as Jarin, the one who’d mocked him the day before.
The other guard grabbed his arm –
Rowena
. Together, they dragged him back to the cottage. As they reached it, Quinn saw Goric emerge. The captain’s face was still red with anger, and he was hauling Marta behind him like a sack of turnips. She looked only half conscious.
‘Let her go!’ Quinn shouted. Goric’s black metal gauntlet squeezed her thin arm so tight Quinn was sure he was going to break it.
‘As you wish, Quinn,’ Goric smirked, as he threw Marta down on the ground. She landed loosely and Quinn winced. Goric turned to his guards with a cruel laugh. ‘Burn the house!’
‘NO!’ Quinn yelled. He struggled with the guards, but they were too strong.
Rowena left Jarin to hold Quinn back and
grabbed a thick branch from the woodpile. She dashed into the house and returned with the branch aflame, lit from Marta’s own fire. She flashed Quinn a sinister grin, then tossed the torch onto the thatched roof. Quinn watched as the flames caught and the dry straw started to crackle. He threw himself forward, but Jarin jerked him back. He saw the fire leap across the roof as though it were alive, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Everything they had was in there. Quinn knew that they’d never had much, just a few clothes and some old wooden toys, but it was all in there. Marta’s belongings, too: her one good dress from long ago, magic ingredients and her neat pile of yellowing letters and writing tools.
He wrenched at the guard’s grip, but the man was twice his size. Jarin laughed as the flames twisted up and Quinn stared at him furiously. His breath came hot and fast. They couldn’t do this to Marta! It was her whole life! Quinn had watched Marta working so
hard
cleaning the guards’ clothes and sheets every day of her life
and now they were burning her house.
How dare they do this to her?
he thought. Anger bubbled up in him, far more intense than when he’d hacked at the woodpile. Then he’d just been angry. Now he was furious. His skin flushed, and he felt scalding hot all over, like the rage was burning him up, like fire was creeping over his skin,
The guardsman holding him yelped and snatched his hand away, looking at it in surprise.
‘A spark from the burning cottage,’ he muttered. ‘It must have been …’
Quinn didn’t wait for the man to grab him again. He lunged forward, past the guards to where Marta lay near the cottage. It was all burning now. Quinn knew there was no way he could save it. He could see the walls cracking with the heat and the wooden door smouldering. Inside, the flames had found their way to Marta’s laundry. Quinn saw it blazing like a furnace. Marta was so close to the fire, even her clothes were starting to char. Quinn grabbed her and pulled her back. He was so angry he didn’t even notice the heat.
Quinn glared at Goric with fury as he pulled his aunt to safety. He knew he should be bowing and stammering apologies to the Captain of the Guard, but he couldn’t. Goric hadn’t had to do any of this. Quinn would have gone to be a trainee to protect his aunt, but Goric was
enjoying
this. He was laughing.
‘The cottage can be rebuilt,’ Goric said. ‘But next time you defy me,
boy
, your aunt will be inside it when I burn it down.’ He swung up onto his horse, gathering the reins in one hand. ‘Take the boy to the garrison for training,’ he told the others. He kicked his horse viciously and set off ahead of them.
Marta stirred and coughed weakly. To Quinn, her face looked red from the heat of the fire, and there was a smear of blood under her nose. She reached up with thin, trembling arms and hugged him. Quinn blinked away tears.
‘Don’t worry,’ Marta whispered. ‘I’ll go into exile. He won’t be able to hurt me any more, and he won’t be able to use me to threaten you. You’ll be all right.’
Quinn felt his throat choking up. ‘What am I going to do?’
She stroked his cheek and smiled. ‘Stay safe. Do what Goric tells you. Keep out of trouble, but stay true to your heart. I’ll come for you as soon as I can, I promise. This won’t last forever.’
‘Enough!’ Rowena growled, stalking over to them. She grabbed Quinn’s arm and jerked him up. Marta slumped back to the ground. ‘Come with me. You’re one of us now.’
Quinn turned his head to stare at the blackened remains of his home as the guards dragged him away.
I might have to be a trainee,
he thought,
but I’ll never be one of you. Never.
They had been riding for hours by the time they came in sight of the garrison and despite the sunshine dipping through the trees, Quinn felt a dark cloud of despair hanging over him. He’d clung on to Jarin in a daze as the horse clipped through the forest, Rowena and Goric travelling up ahead. Every time the horse had taken a step, Quinn’s backside had thumped on the hard saddle and the jolt had travelled all the way up his back to clatter his teeth. He could actually
feel
the purple bruises forming with each whack of the saddle – though it was nothing compared
to the pain of seeing his house burned to the ground or the look on Aunt Marta’s face.
The garrison’s outer gate was a massive, stone construction at least four storeys high. Two round towers flanked the enormous gateway, with arrow slits piercing the stonework every couple of yards. A heavy iron portcullis hung above the gate. As he rode beneath it, Quinn peered up at it with a shudder. If it dropped, he and the horse would both be squashed flatter than one of Marta’s pancakes.
At least I wouldn’t have to be in the Guard
, he thought darkly.
The courtyard in front of him was almost as big as Quinn’s village. To the left, straw targets in the shape of huge dragons had been set up. Quinn watched as the guards fired arrow after arrow into them. To the right, he saw a group of trainees a year or two older than him battering at each other with wooden swords. Nerves crept across him like vines across the forest floor, but he held them in check. He wouldn’t let the Guard get to him.
Abruptly, the horse came to a stop. Jarin gave him a little push to ‘help’ him, and Quinn cried out as he slid off into the dirt.
‘Hey!’ he shouted.
‘Stop moaning,’ Goric snapped, as he dismounted his own huge mare. ‘You’re in the Black Guard now. You’d better get used to being uncomfortable.’
Does that mean lying in the dirt?
Quinn thought, ignoring Goric. He gazed up at the garrison building. It might have seemed like prison – and he was sure it would be like hell for the recruits – but it was the grandest prison he’d ever imagined. The building in front of him was at least a hundred yards long and two storeys high. Half a dozen narrow towers jutted above the building flying the flag of the Twelve Islands: a clenched black fist on a red background that made Quinn shiver.
And it’s made of stone
, he thought.
It’s not bad for some.
Builders on Yaross had a hard time coaxing the levitating rocks from the Floating Mountains into submission: material that stayed on the ground didn’t come cheap.
‘New recruits must report to the main garrison …’ Goric barked.
Quinn trudged across the courtyard, the mid-afternoon heat rising from the ground in waves. He caught the smells drifting out of the kitchen and his stomach clenched.
Bacon
, he thought, his mouth watering.
And freshly baked bread
. All he and Marta had had last night were summer fruits and nuts. He started to wonder where the dragon-fighting taxes really went.
At the thought of Marta, he felt for the package in his pocket. He wondered what had been so important that she’d had to use magic to get it to him without the Black Guard noticing. He had to find somewhere quiet before he could take a look.
‘You’re not sightseeing!’ Rowena barked. ‘Follow me and tie up that horse!’
Quinn jumped. Too busy daydreaming, he’d almost forgotten he was standing in the middle of the courtyard. He walked back, grabbed hold of the horse’s bridle and pulled it after Rowena, tying it up in the huge stables.
‘You, boy!’ a harsh voice shouted.
Quinn looked around and saw that another, smaller guard was striding towards him, black armour glinting in the afternoon sun. The raised black fist embossed on the breastplate of the armour seemed to be aimed right at him. Quinn couldn’t help flinching.
‘Your papers,’ the guard demanded. ‘Do you think I’ve got time to hang about all day?’
Quinn pulled the scroll from inside his shirt,
Taking care to conceal Marta’s package, Quinn pulled the scroll from inside his shirt and held it before him. The guard snatched it up.
The summer sun was hot on Quinn’s back and the dust from the courtyard got in his mouth and nose and eyes. His mouth felt like a dry well, desperate for a drop of rain.
The guard stiffened in front of him. Quinn’s heart stuttered.
Did he see Marta’s package inside my jacket?
Nervously, he looked up at the guard, but noticed that he wasn’t even looking at him.
Instead, he was staring away over Quinn’s back, as though he’d completely forgotten that he existed. Quinn shuffled carefully around. All he could see were hooves as yet more mounted guards rode into the courtyard.
The first horse snorted and abruptly came to a halt. A moment later, Quinn saw a golden boot swing down to land with a puff of dust on the courtyard. Something was different about this guard. Around him, trainee and guardsman alike dropped into a bow.
Quinn saw a line of golden medals pinned to the man’s smart, night-blue military jacket. He wasn’t wearing the black armour of the Guard, Quinn saw, but the Guard seemed wary of him.
The only people who wear clothes like that are the Emperor’s courtiers,
Quinn thought, as he peered at the man.
But they never come this far south …
He shifted his head so he could get a better look. The man was tall and thin, with deep-set eyes. He glanced around haughtily, like he owned the place. Behind him, on the ground, Quinn
spotted what looked like a ragged heap tied up behind the man’s saddle.
Goric strode forward to greet him.
‘Marshall Stant. Welcome to Yaross Island. We didn’t expect you so early.’
Stant!
Quinn recognised that name. The man was notoriously cruel. The Emperor used him to put down rebellions. He was the one who would destroy villages harbouring those with dragonblood.
Stant peered slowly around the courtyard. ‘So I see,’ he said. His voice was as cold as his eyes.
‘Untie her!’ Goric commanded.
Quinn watched several of Goric’s guards leap to their feet and hurry over to the marshall’s horse. Now Quinn could see that the shape tied to the back of Stant’s horse wasn’t just a bunch of rags, it was a girl.
Another recruit
, Quinn thought.
At least I got to ride on the horse.
Quinn could barely make out what she looked like. She was covered in dust and mud from head to toe, and she was bleeding and
scraped in a dozen places. She was clutching her left arm tight to her body as though it was broken. Quinn noticed the enormous bruise on the side of her face.
The girl let out a moan as the guards untied her roughly and shoved her back down to the ground. Quinn tensed. Couldn’t they see she was hurt?
Stant laughed. ‘The girl’s been causing trouble,’ he called. He turned slowly to eye the trainees. Quinn avoided the gaze. ‘This is what happens when you cause trouble …’
Goric laughed heartily. ‘True enough, Stant. Although why we need such a useless girl —’
Rowena spluttered.
Quinn knew that female officers in the Black Guard were rare, but that didn’t mean they weren’t just as fearsome as the men. Emperor Vayn was the friend of anyone who shared his cruel outlook – Rowena clearly demonstrated that.
‘What I mean is,’ Goric continued, avoiding Rowena’s glare, ‘why not put an end to her if she has caused such problems?’
Quinn flinched at Goric’s brutality.
Marshall Stant turned his cold eyes on Captain Goric. ‘It is not for you to question, Goric. The decision does not belong with a mere captain of Yaross Island, it goes much higher than that.’
Goric looked taken aback and tried to stutter a reply, but he was completely lost for words. Quinn caught the girl’s flashing green eyes that seemed to smile in his direction. He had to stifle a grin. For the first time in years he’d seen Goric humiliated. It was worth a laugh whether he was stuck in the Black Guard garrison or not.
Suddenly the mood darkened once more. ‘Enough of this,’ Stant cried. ‘Lock the girl up in your dungeon.’
The dungeon? Couldn’t they see the state she was in? She needed help. A guardsman grabbed the girl by her injured arm and started to drag her towards the garrison building. She let out a scream of pain and her eyes seemed to plead with Quinn.
‘Stop!’ Quinn shouted instinctively, as he leapt to his feet.
The whole courtyard fell silent and turned to look at him. Quinn’s hand shot to his mouth. Marta had told him to keep out of trouble, but he’d only been at the garrison for ten minutes and already he was diving into it headfirst. It was just the same with the washing hanging up in their cottage; he couldn’t seem to avoid it.
Marshall Stant looked at him in disgust. Quickly, he threw himself down to the ground and bowed again. Goric stamped over. He drew his sword and planted his boot on the back of Quinn’s neck, pinning him to the ground. Quinn squirmed in fear.
‘Shall I kill him for his disrespect?’ Goric called, desperate to regain Stant’s approval. ‘We haven’t started training him yet. It will be no loss.’
Quinn grimaced. Goric’s boot was twisting his neck so painfully it felt like it was going to break.
‘No,’ Marshall Stant said, slowly. ‘I have a better idea. If this
boy
values Thea’s life so much, why don’t we give him the chance to earn it? Let’s see what he’s made of.’
Marshall Stant looked around at the rest of the trainees who were still crouched unmoving, heads pressed into the dirt of the courtyard. Stant pointed a gloved hand to the largest of the trainees, a great hulking boy named Jori, almost the size of a grown-up with muscles that would have made a bull jealous.
‘The boy can fight this trainee. If he wins, Thea will be treated well and join the other trainees. If he loses,’ – for the first time, Stant smiled – ‘they will both be put to death, here, today.’
Quinn gulped.
Stay out of trouble?
This wasn’t what Marta had had in mind.