Dragonbond

Chapter 1

The cantankerous ringing of the morning bell echoed through town. Koragi rushed to finish packing her tools and thread into her satchel. She only had an hour now to get four crates from her mother’s shop loaded onto the wagons to ensure their goods reached the markets of Eiskre in time for the Festival. After locking all the storage cases and moving the displays behind the main counter, Koragi lifted the top crate of clothing from the first stack to bring it outside. The wooden box was large enough to obstruct her sight, so she blindly moved toward the open door, kicking it wider with her boot. She crossed the threshold and immediately collided with something solid. With a grimace, she took a step back and pivoted on her foot to see whom she had inadvertently trampled. But the apology stuck in her throat. Her heart raced as the man’s strong hand steadied the crate she held. Dark eyes examined her, concerned.

“Do you need help, milady?” he asked in his silky low voice.

The young seamstress squeaked a reply and she swore she saw his lips twitch with the barest hint of amusement. The man stood a head taller than her. With messy, short-cropped black hair and clear indication that he had not shaved in several days, Tebanis Iniré was as handsome as ever. Koragi cleared her throat.

“Tebanis,” she said at last. “I didn’t see you. What brings you here?”

Tebanis took the crate without asking again and she couldn’t help the way her eyes lingered on his muscular arms. Warmth pooled in her stomach when she felt his hand brush hers for only a moment. Her heart somersaulted.

“Your mother asked me to check on you,” he replied. “I am happy to help you take these to the wagon.”

To her chagrin, the heat spread through her body until it reached her neck and cheeks. She hoped her blush wasn’t too visible as she so obviously wrung her hands.

“Surely you have more important things to do right now,” she said with a hesitant smile. “If I needed help, I certainly wouldn’t ask you to stop what you’re doing.”

His perfectly lopsided smile silenced any further argument. He turned on his heel and left her there on the stoop to stare after him. Koragi could not peel her eyes away from him as he carried the crate down the street beyond the short line of shops. As he passed a group of village boys playing in the grass, they swung sticks in the air and chased after each other, mimicking the man’s fierce sword skills. He nodded in their direction and they scattered in a burst of squeals and laughter, delighted at his attention.

When Tebanis finally passed beyond her line of sight, she shook her head at her foolishness and slipped back inside to fetch a second crate. With his help, she might actually have some measure of hope in getting everything to the courtyard in time for departure. Her stomach knotted at the idea of the militia Captain giving her consideration that all the other girls in the village would surely envy.

Koragi moved sluggishly as she carried the crate outside into the sunlight. The shops around her were quiet—she had been the last to close. The sky was bright and blue, interrupted by only the occasional cloud. Scents drifted from every home, where mothers and wives pulled fresh pies and pastries from their fire-ovens so they could send their loved ones off with something fresh to either eat on the way or save for the markets. The main street was quiet now that the group of boys had taken their games elsewhere. Koragi let her thoughts drift as she stepped toward the village gates.

This was her first trip to the regent city of Eiskre without her mother, which made her the primary merchant. She wasn’t sure if she had the ability to manage all the trade goods from their village—not to mention if the others would even listen to a sixteen-year-old seamstress—but she had prepared for this trip all year. She was eager to show everyone what she could do, that she was a capable successor to the prestigious Elder Myra Domerie.

Tebanis drew her out of her thoughts when he stopped her on his way back to the shop.

“I can take that,” he offered.

She could not stop the giddy laugh that bubbled up from nowhere. “No, no! No, thank you, Tebanis,” she answered with a shake of her head. “I can do it myself.”

He smiled again and she nearly dropped the crate anyway. A man of few words, he swept past her again with a billow of his dusty old cloak. Koragi pressed her forehead against her crate and quickened her step with a sigh of frustration. She just didn’t know what to say or do around that man and it was at times maddening! It didn’t help that he seemed to be around frequently, always sending her into a silly state where she forgot how to talk and sometimes even to breathe. But it did allow her to pretend that he was near because he wished to be near her, rather than merely doing as her mother asked. Myra, as Speaker of Cordak’s Council, was his direct superior. It was only natural for the militia Captain to keep an eye on her daughter.

An empty grass lot spread over the east side of the main street in the courtyard where the three wagons awaited departure. The only cobbled trail in town wound up a small hill where the Council Hall rested in clear sight of the north gate. The Council Hall was the second-largest building in Cordak, towering two stories over the residences around it. The wooden building was plain and imposing, which often proved misleading to travelers who called upon the friendly Council of Cordak. The wide wooden doors were shut, however, indicating that the three members of the Council had not yet finished their duties for the day. Koragi was relieved. The caravan would not leave until after the Council adjourned.

The wagon yokes already harnessed their six oxen, assuring Koragi that she had indeed fallen very far behind. Activity buzzed around the caravan as others finished securing their belongings and the militia made last-minute adjustments to the five wagon guard horses. Gerian Mere, the chaperone chosen to oversee the journey, helped a few mothers corral their children, between five and ten years of age, around the second wagon. He wiped a broad forearm across his brow and gave the children a stern look that made it clear to them that they needed to stay where they were. He nodded to Koragi when he spotted her and she smiled in return.

After making sure that there was plenty of space in the wagon for the remaining crates, Koragi found a nook for her satchel and hurried back down the main street to retrieve the rest of her things. Tebanis met her halfway, carrying a third crate from the shop, but she hastened by him before she could make a fool of herself yet again.

By the time she returned to the wagon and pushed the last crate into position with the others, the final morning bell struck the hour. Koragi glanced over her shoulder to see the doors of the Council Hall open wide. She turned back and rushed to finish securing the last crate. Tebanis had already finished the other three, but he was gone when she had returned. The straps on the first three crates were much more secure than the pitiful job she did on the last one.

Just as she finished, Koragi heard a familiar trill of laughter and turned her head. A young woman with two girls on either side of her stepped into the courtyard. Ravian, at eighteen years of age, was the eldest daughter of Cordak’s only blacksmith, Elder Rydar Garen. Their family was the wealthiest in the village and Ravian and her mother frequented her mother’s shop. Ravian had always been friendly enough, but ever since Koragi’s sixteenth birthday, Ravian had seemed cold and distant, preferring to do business with Myra when possible. Koragi had a fair guess as to why that was the case—and also guessed that once her two little friends came of age she would treat them much the same.

Gilly, the elder of the pair who followed Ravian, was fifteen, while Jori was twelve. Whether they realized her nature or not, they seemed content to spend their time seeing to Ravian’s every wish. The woman had a way of elevating the social status of her consorts, which was a pleasant side effect when all it required was absolute devotion.

With upturned noses, the trio strolled by Koragi at the rear of the caravan, making their way to the fancy front wagon and the much more comfortable seating there. As they passed, Koragi couldn’t help the pang of jealousy that came over her. Each year Tebanis joined the caravan and acted as their primary guardian, stationed right at the front where Ravian and the others could swoon over him to their hearts’ content. At the back of the third wagon, where Koragi always sat, the flanking militia soldiers typically rode their horses at a careful distance and made no attempt at conversation. She sighed and ran a hand through her hair.

Great

, she thought.

Now I’m grumpy.

A clamor of voices rose from the Council Hall, and Koragi turned to lean back against the wagon. The three members of the Elder Council stepped out into the sunlight and greeted the gathered citizens. Her mother stood ahead of Elders Belorn and Rydar, addressing the assembly as the Speaker. Koragi listened to her well-practiced speech. While Myra never spoke quite the same words at the parting address, the message was the same as every year: prosper and give thanks to Rafrin, the god of fertility and light, for without him they would not have been able to produce the surplus in goods they had needed to store until the Fertility Festival in Eiskre.

The excited crowd of families parted, casting their final farewells. The sun had reached a midpoint in the sky, resting opposite the blue moon,

Lendris

, which was but a bright waning sliver now.

Loryn

, the smaller yellow moon, still hung low enough on the horizon that it was barely visible from Cordak.

Suddenly the surprisingly strong arms of her plump mother wrapped around her. Myra then held Koragi at arms’ length to get a close look at her daughter. Lines of laughter and age creased her round face as she laughed joyously. Wiry white curls framed her cheeks, her long wispy hair pinned into a loose bun on the back of her head. She wore her formal Council coat over her typical beige dress. The tawny coats were of fine make, each crafted personally by Myra years ago. They were old-fashioned, bearing a high collar and double pockets on either side of the dual rows of large brass buttons down the fronts. Each Councilor typically wore a round, bronze pin upon the coat’s left cuff, but Myra’s was gold—some said due to personal preference.

“Have you packed everything you need, my dear? Food? Water?” the old woman asked as she cupped her hands under her daughter’s face. Koragi laughed softly.

“Mother, we will reach the city before sundown,” she replied. “There’s no need to prepare for days of travel.”

Myra clicked her tongue disapprovingly before waddling about the back of the cart to check on the crates and luggage. Koragi smiled at the woman’s fussing. Even though Koragi attended the Festival every year and had worked out an efficient enough routine, Myra Domerie still fretted over every little detail. Was the wool folded and pressed? Had Koragi remembered to pack satisfactory display units? Granted, Koragi had forgotten the displays a few years back, but she still rested the blame for that on Myra’s previous assistant, Lory, a flighty girl who had left to join her aunt in Eiskre after her father had passed away last year. This time, the displays sat in their proper places and Myra ended her inspection without criticism. The Elder turned back to her daughter and smiled warmly.

“You have grown so in the past year,” she noted. “Soon you will have suitors lined up to ask for your hand. You are a beauty, darling.”

Koragi welcomed the woman’s second embrace with a slight flush of pink to her cheeks. “You say that every year.”

“And this year you hope it comes to be.” Myra winked at the girl when she tried to sputter a response. She went on, reaching a hand into one of those ridiculous pockets. “I have a gift for you. You must promise to keep it close to you at all times, for its value is one that cannot be measured by coin.”

Koragi’s blush dissipated, her curiosity piqued. Myra drew a small box from her left breast pocket. She opened it to reveal a small golden orb attached to a gold chain. The beautiful pool of gold was the size of a plump cherry and glistened in the sunlight. Koragi stared in wonder as Myra traipsed around her and bade her to bend down so she could reach. Koragi eagerly lifted her hair from her shoulders and bent her knees, allowing Myra to place the chain about her neck.

The tiny pendant felt warm against her skin, hanging low enough that she could tuck it into her dress collar. Holding it between her fingers, she studied the round bauble, noting the delicate marks that almost looked like writing—script unlike any she had seen before. It was remarkably light as well, its weight scarcely noticeable in her palm. The complexity of its surface design puzzled her. One look into her mother’s eyes silenced any questions she may have voiced. Myra was visibly proud of the gift.

“Thank you, Mother,” she whispered. “I will keep it close, always.”

“Splendid! Now let us send these whelps off before they leave so late that poor Tebanis must fight off the beasts of the fields in the middle of the night and—”

Myra gave Koragi a final wave and wandered off, continuing her lighthearted tirade about late departures to the guards now surrounding the wagons. A handful of parents shooed away the last of the children who could not accompany the caravan. The villagers waved energetically as the north gates creaked open.

Koragi jumped when she felt the wagon move behind her. She spun around to catch the rear hand grip so she could climb aboard at the last moment, but stumbled. A pair of strong hands rested on either side of her waist and lifted her, allowing her to clamber into her seat. As she settled down, she looked at her benefactor and her voice escaped her before she had even found it.

“It would not do to leave you behind, milady,” Tebanis said with that same oddly charming, lopsided smile. The almost playful sparkle in his dark eyes coaxed Koragi’s heart to race once again. He pulled up the hood of his cloak and expertly climbed into the saddle of a tall chestnut stallion. His biceps flexed as he grasped the reins and led his horse a few steps forward. His eyes swept over the caravan before landing back on her, where he held her gaze. Koragi’s stomach twisted into a nearly painful knot and she tore her eyes away from his.

A militia volunteer took up a position behind her wagon, so it surprised her when Tebanis remained at the rear, just several feet away. Her cheeks warmed again when her gaze met his for the briefest moment and he did not immediately look away.