Bloodlines: Dragon Rider Book 2

Chapter 40: Taran

I'm lucky if I get through a whole sentence correctly. Lol.

Clarika

Crimsons are used to travel. It comes with the name, parading around cities and towns, greeting their citizens to give them hope and to make them remember that we are real. The Crimson line is the most powerful family of this generation, not just in name and wealth but in our blood and bone. It is a mix of the two most powerful purebloods, Haven and Crimson. Families fight tooth and nail, using all their influence and power and money, to have a chance in marrying one of the three pureblood families. But purebloods interbreed with their own. At least, they do when generations have passed, just long enough to create variation and diversity in their genetics before turning back to the powerful purebred lines. And when those opportunities arise, meetings are held and marriages are arranged quickly and far more intricately than regular noble mages.

I've been in trenches. I've been bathed in blood and mud. I've seen cities destroyed by the dead and my own soldiers slaughtered.

But this travel is unbearable.

Four days in forests, half-frozen marshes slithering with scaled creatures twice my size, and flat plains with grass as tall as my chest. We flew over most of it, but sleeping on the ground, washing in whatever creek or river the dragon riders could find and make camp by, was far worse than being in the sky. When the dragons weren't hunting they stayed close to camp, listening and scenting the air for those human eating snakes or anything else that might try to harm us. Knowing they were always on guard... eased my nerves.

But the dragon riders didn't seem all too bothered by the wildlife, though Norah didn't look particularly thrilled to be slathered in bugs and mud. Holland used it as a teaching experience, asking Norah and Easton questions about the animal tracks. He taught Adam how to read the broken twigs and what they meant. I listened and noted everything, even if I preferred cities over forests.

When forests morphed into buildings and roads, the tension in my shoulders released. And when the dragons landed, solid ground has a funny way of easing any thoughts of falling.

People amble past, wearing loose baggy clothes, skirts and oversized sweaters that looked patched together from different cloth and patterns. They smile at one another, faces open and welcoming despite the frigid weather clouding their breaths. Groups crowd in the parks and streets and houses are constructed according to the natural paths of the land, making for broad roads. Streams of bright colors sway in the blustery winds, broken apart into gentler gusts by the range of snowy mountains ahead. Chimes ring in a rhythmic dance that is echoed by the calls of people offering us food and drinks. Racks of clothes, trinkets, and tiny bags of colored dust are stationed in the windows of stone shops topped with a-frame roofs.

Dagen snatches extra samples of the snacks and wine and consumes it all. When he comes back with three paper cups in one hand, Holland eyes him. Galeur, trailing behind Holland, does the same.

"Do you really trust that stuff?" Holland questions flatly, though I know he's as hungry as the rest of us.

The necromancer finishes one cup, barely bothered. "If it kills me, it kills me." He drinks the other, tossing the cups in a nearby trash bin. Adam stares at him, brows knitted in concern. Dagen notes it. "Staying in raider city as long as I did, you learn which taverns to stay away from, especially the ones that collect alley rats and cook them up. They don't go through the effort to catch live ones either."

Adam shudders, looking to Norah trailing the outer edge of the group. "I'm glad we didn't eat anything there."

Dagen gestures his final cup to my sister in silent question.