Sea Dragon (Dragon Knights Book 9) Read online

  “Sir, you mistake me. I am not from the Lair. I live in town. I am a sea captain’s daughter. My grandpa taught me to fish and to sail. I have never met a dragon before today. You are the first I have ever encountered.”

  “Truly? And yet, you can hear me when I speak.” He seemed to think for a moment, then continued, “Human females who can hear our speech are rare, mistress. Your ability to do so would make you welcome in any Lair in the land, simply because you can talk with my kind and do not appear to be afraid of us. You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he asked, seeming to want to be sure.

  “Should I be?” she asked in a tone that she knew conveyed her amusement. “Honestly, Sir Hrardorr, I had no idea how you communicated, or that it was rare to be able to hear you. As I said, I’m not well acquainted with the ways of dragons or those who live with them. I’ve lived on this coast all my life.”

  “If I were still a fighting dragon, I would bring you to the Lair myself. You aren’t mated yet, are you?”

  Livia was puzzled by his question, but answered anyway. “No, I’m not married.”

  “Then you must make your way to the Lair. You could find your mates there. I’m sure of it. A lady of such talent and gumption as yourself would be well suited to our life there.”

  “Mates?” Livia repeated, surprised but intrigued by the idea.

  She’d heard about the strange way the knights lived, of course. When she’d been just coming into her womanhood, her girlfriends had talked of little else than the idea of mating with a handsome knight. Until, that is, someone was told by her mama that matings among knights weren’t one on one. No, two knights shared one wife.

  Livia didn’t know why it was so, only that all the married knights were parts of trios. Happy trios, to be sure. She’d seen a few of the Lair women shopping in the square from time to time, and they all seemed happy enough. Nobody ever claimed the knights were bad husbands. Quite the contrary.

  But for some reason, not many of the men who lived alongside the dragons up on the cliffs were married. There were few Lair wives and, because of that, few children.

  Occasionally, a knight would form a liaison with a town woman, but nobody had become a Lair wife from the town in recent memory. The affairs seemed merely to be of convenience, not love everlasting.

  “Mates, their dragon partners, and eventually children,” Hrardorr seemed to answer her question. “Little dragonettes and tiny human babies, with two dragon parents and three human parents.”

  “All of them?” Livia asked, intrigued by the concept.

  “Of course,” Hrardorr said. “That is the family unit of the Lair. They all share in the parenting of any offspring, dragon and human alike. It is the way we have always done it, since the first fighting dragon partnered with the first knight.”

  “I had no idea. I mean, I’d heard things, but nothing like this. It sounds kind of…nice.” She marveled at the idea of a baby dragon being raised equally by humans and dragons, or a baby human calling a dragon papa. “Do you have children, Sir Hrardorr?”

  The dragon’s mouth tightened. “No. And now, I never will.”

  “Never is a very long time,” she said softly, wanting to offer comfort.

  “Don’t I know it.” His tone was bitter.

  “Being blind isn’t the end of the world,” she said, confronting his depression head on.

  His great head reared back as if she’d struck him. “You know I’m blind?”

  “I figured it out. A few of my father’s people do business at the Lair, and they bring back news of new arrivals. I assumed you’re the new dragon that has come here to recuperate. Am I wrong?”

  A sigh gusted out of Hrardorr’s mouth, filling her sails for a brief moment. She had to change tack to get back to him, but he didn’t seem to notice.

  “No, milady. You’re not wrong. I’m the damaged dragon who can’t even fend for himself anymore.”

  “Seems to me you just bagged a menacing shark all by yourself and chomped him to little pieces without any help at all,” she mused. “You’re not helpless. Hopeless, maybe…and that can be changed.”

  “You’re a strange female,” Hrardorr said, making her bark a laugh she hadn’t expected.

  “You’re not the first person to tell me that,” she allowed, smiling.

  “I’m not a person. I’m a dragon.” He bared his pointy teeth, as if grinning at her.

  “Point taken, Sir Dragon.” She regarded him for a moment, searching for the right words, but she couldn’t find them. “I like fishing. I do it most days when my father is away. Maybe you’d like to meet me here again sometime? I mean, I need protection from the circling sharks, and I suppose you could make yourself useful in lowering their numbers before someone from the town ends up maimed or dead. The fishermen would be grateful, I’m sure, as would most of the townsfolk.”

  “You don’t say.” Hrardorr looked as if he was thinking over her words. “I like to swim. And I also like the taste of shark.”

  “Really? What does it taste like to you?”

  “Like victory.”

  Victory over his disability, she surmised. Well, it was a start.

  “Perhaps I will seek you out again. If your little boat is in the water, I can find it from below. My water hearing works as good underwater as my eyes used to work in the sky.”

  “Water hearing?” she asked, intrigued.

  “That’s my name for it,” he replied. “I’m not sure what the sea dragons call it, but it’s dark underwater. Eyes don’t see much. But sound echoes back to me like waves. I can tell where things are using that sense. I don’t know exactly how it works. It just does.”

  “That’s pretty amazing,” Livia told him. “You could also just talk to me, right? I mean, how far away can you get before I can’t hear you in my head? Do you know?”

  “It depends on you, milady. On how strong your mind is.” He tilted his head as if in thought. “We could experiment, if you like.”

  “I think I’d like that. If you wanted to find me at any time, you could just ask, and maybe, if I can learn how to answer you the same way, I could give you directions.”

  “If you can speak into my mind, you could do more than that,” he said, then immediately backtracked. “But no. I won’t get that close to a human again. Even if you’re not a knight, it hurts too much to lose friends, and you are too short-lived, unattached to a dragon family as you are.”

  She didn’t understand a lot of what he’d just said, but the things he was hinting at were intriguing. She resolved to work on him. She’d wear him down in time. Hrardorr didn’t realize it, but he’d just become her new project.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Seth went to check on Hrardorr, as he’d done every night since the blind dragon had arrived. At first, Seth had thought of Hrardorr as a patient, but over time, he’d come to enjoy the caustic dragon’s company.

  Seth had grown up in the Southern Lair and was apprenticed to the healer, though he wasn’t much good at his vocation. He could help stitch wounds and bandage fragile wing bones, but he didn’t have a true healing gift. He’d just taken up the job because the Lair’s aging healer, Bronwyn, was a friend of the family and had been like a grandmother to him since his earliest days.

  Bronwyn was getting on in years and could no longer handle the more physical aspects of her job. Once Seth had seen how she struggled, he’d volunteered to help her and had somehow ended up as her apprentice, though he really had no special gift for the work.

  Everyone in the Lair just accepted that the quiet son of two accomplished but elder knights would do well as the new healer, since nobody else had stepped forward for the job.

  And Seth hadn’t fought it. He wanted to help Bronwyn. If he missed some sword practice to do it, so be it. Bronwyn was more important. People you loved were always more important than anything else, to Seth’s way of thinking. Maybe that had lost him a few opportunities over the years, but that was okay with him.

  Hrardo
rr was becoming important to Seth, too, which was surprising, really. While Seth admired, and was friends with, many of the dragons in the Lair—especially those that needed a healer’s help now and again—somehow, this blind dragon had earned a special place in Seth’s heart in only the few weeks he’d been in residence in the Lair.

  Seth could bespeak dragons. He’d always had the ability. It made him eligible to be chosen as a knight, but he didn’t really have the weapons training to go with it. Although he’d taken the basic classes all Lair children were given, he hadn’t had the time to pursue his natural affinity for sword work once he’d apprenticed to Bronwyn. That, his mother insisted somewhat optimistically, was why he hadn’t been chosen by a dragon yet.

  Seth didn’t really think that was the reason, but he wouldn’t gainsay his mother. She meant well. While he would have loved to have been chosen to partner a dragon, if that wasn’t his fate, he was reconciled to it. He was content enough, he supposed, helping Bronwyn in her twilight years and doing good work in the Lair that needed to be done.

  They wouldn’t turn him out because he could talk with dragons, but he would never really fit in with the knights unless a dragon spoke the words of Claim to him. Which was about as likely to happen as it was that Hrardorr’s vision would spontaneously return.

  Seth snorted as he approached the massive door to Hrardorr’s private suite. It was up near the top of the Lair so he could fly out easily and not have far to walk from the landing ledge to his sand pit when he returned.

  Every accommodation had been made for Hrardorr, hero fighter that he’d been. Most of his brethren gave him a wide berth, seeming to not know what to say to their disabled colleague. Dragons were fighters by nature, especially those that chose to partner with knights and fight to defend the borders of Draconia. They weren’t necessarily eloquent. And a lot of them didn’t know how to deal with injuries—either to themselves or to others of their kind.

  In general, they healed fast, and well. There was a phenomenon known as the Dragon’s Breath that could be used to heal humans as well as dragons, though a dragon with the gift could not heal itself. Just like with humans, the healing gift only worked on others, not on the healer.

  So minor injuries usually healed fast, and the dragon was right out there fighting once again. Major injuries were tended by Bronwyn and Seth. Lady Bronwyn had a true gift and was able to use it to save many lives. Seth did the heavy lifting. He sewed up wounds the conventional way, without the use of magic. He applied poultices and administered healing herbs. He fetched the raw materials from the forest and the town’s market for Bronwyn, and learned from her the proper way to brew the various potions and ointments that were her stock and trade.

  Because of his work for Bronwyn, Seth had more contact with the town, especially its merchants, than most other Lair folk. There was one woman in particular who had caught his eye on multiple occasions.

  Livia. Livia O’Dare, daughter of the most reckless sea captain to ever sail the high seas. Since the death of his wife, he was never home—or so the gossip said. Her father sailed the really dangerous routes and brought back some of the highest quality medicinal components.

  Seth had sought her out in the market and had traded with her a few very memorable times. She had no way of knowing who he was or where he had come from. Seth didn’t like to boast of his origins to the townspeople. A few of the innkeepers knew he hailed from the Lair, and he had one or two friends among the locals, but Livia wasn’t in his social circle.

  As far as Seth was concerned, she was so far out of his reach he might as well not even daydream about her. Yet, he found he couldn’t help himself.

  The richest girl in the town of Dragonscove wouldn’t be interested in a failed knight candidate—a mediocre healer who had only a small room in the Lair. She deserved a man as powerful and connected as she. A man of means who could be a true partner to her.

  Not a fellow who was still only an apprentice long after the age when he should have found his true vocation, or at least achieved some higher rank in his chosen field. Seth was a failure in his own eyes, and Mistress Livia O’Dare was much too good for the likes of him.

  Seth sighed heavily and knocked on the door to Hrardorr’s quarters. No use thinking about the woman he would never have. Hrardorr should be his focus now. He could at least try to help the blind dragon.

  “Enter.” Hrardorr’s voice rumbled through Seth’s mind. The single word held a new tone that hadn’t been there since Seth had met him. He sounded…almost…happy?

  Seth pushed open the massive door with a frown of confusion on his face that Hrardorr couldn’t see. Once he could see the dragon, ensconced in the warm sand of his wallow, Seth became even more intrigued. For the first time, Hrardorr wasn’t scowling in that way only dragons could scowl—with their whole heads, furrowed ridges of scales making deep grooves on their faces, twisting their horns into strange positions.

  For once, Hrardorr’s expression was relaxed.

  “You look like you had a good day,” Seth remarked as he approached the dragon, being careful to make a little extra noise with his feet, so Hrardorr would know where he was.

  “I did, thank you.”

  The politeness was new, too, though Seth didn’t remark on it. Most dragons were polite as a general rule, but Hrardorr have been—somewhat understandably—almost surly since he’d arrived in the Southern Lair with such grave injuries.

  The lacerations in his wings had been healed already, but the scars had taken a few weeks to fade. The cuts and deep gouges in his body were taking a little longer to heal, but those were coming along nicely, and all had protected scabs. Seth checked them daily, to make sure no infections were starting that could be prevented.

  It was the eyes that were the worst of Hrardorr’s injuries. Turned milky by the searing burn of skith venom, Seth knew Hrardorr’s eyes still gave him great pain each day. They oozed, and though the venom had been washed away, Seth still needed to irrigate them each day with a mild solution of biliberry to help whatever healing might still take place.

  By now, Hrardorr knew the routine. He stepped out of his sand wallow and over to the area that would have served as a sitting area for Hrardorr’s knight, if Hrardorr still had a fighting partner. All human furniture had been cleared, except for a small stool and ladder that Seth used when administering Hrardorr’s treatments.

  The empty sitting area was right next to the human bathing alcove, where Seth could access water. He kept his supplies there and went into the small chamber to make preparations while Hrardorr got into position, laying his head near the doorway. They would do the eyes first, then Seth would do a body check on Hrardorr’s other injuries before finishing up with a rubdown of his wing joints with protective oils.

  Since Hrardorr couldn’t see anymore to take care of himself and had lost the knight who should have been seeing to his health, Seth had taken to doing it. Seth had done as much for his fathers’ dragon partners, the dragon pair he called Mama and Papa. He even had dragon siblings whom he’d helped in the same way.

  Big as they were, dragons sometimes needed help reaching the delicate places on their wings, and a little ointment or fragrant oil went a long way toward keeping wing joints in the best possible shape. Seth was happy to have the knowledge and skill to help Hrardorr, though he knew the dragon resented needing the help.

  If his knight hadn’t been killed, Hrardorr would’ve been tended by him. Seth knew the bond between dragon and knight was formed on a soul-deep level. It was a true partnership. A melding of hearts and minds that lasted for the knight’s lifetime. And when the knight eventually died, the dragon went into mourning for a period before ever considering picking a new knight to share its life with.

  Hrardorr had to be in mourning now. Seth felt for him. It wasn’t easy to lose those you loved.

  “I went fishing today,” Hrardorr informed Seth, breaking into his thoughts.

  Seth was so surprised he didn’t quite kno
w how to answer at first. “That sounds like fun.” Seth figured that was a safe answer. The dragon could elaborate if he chose to speak further.

  “It was. I caught a shark which apparently had been harassing the fishermen of the town.” An unmistakable tone of satisfaction flowed through the dragon’s rumbly words.

  “Then you have done a good deed today, Sir Hrardorr. I have a few friends among the fishing folk, and I know they fear some of the truly large predators of the sea, yet they must go out there each day to feed their families.”

  “So I have been told,” Hrardorr agreed while Seth began bathing the dragon’s sightless eyes.

  Seth was surprised to hear Hrardorr had spoken with anyone. He’d been spectacularly isolated since his arrival, not really speaking to anyone besides Bronwyn—at first—and now just Seth.

  “I’m glad you’re talking with your brethren,” Seth said softly, choosing his words carefully.

  “Oh, no. I heard this from a human in town. Or actually, on the sea. She was fishing, and we stopped to talk for a few minutes. For a human female, she is remarkably brave. I have not been around many human females in my time. I wonder if they are all like her?” The dragon seemed to muse on this as Seth worked on his eyes.

  If there was a woman in Dragonscove who could bespeak dragons, Hrardorr’s discovery was big news. Every single knight in the Lair would want to meet her and try his luck, hoping she might be the one to complete a Lair family and allow the single dragons to pair up as well.

  For a dragon couple could never consummate their union with a mating flight while their knight partners were single. The spillover of passion could not be satisfied by a casual liaison. There had to be deep and abiding love between the participants, or the knights could easily run mad with the emotional echoes coming down the connection between themselves and their dragons.