The Dragon Hunter's Son, page 1
CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Epilogue
Author page
Also by Hanna Dare
The Dragon Hunter’s Son
Hanna Dare
Copyright © 2020 Hanna Dare
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the expression written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
ISBN: 978-1-7752438-4-7
Cover Design by Natasha Snow
Proofreading by D.J. Jamison
CHAPTER ONE
The village didn’t have much to recommend it, but at least it wasn’t snowing.
That’s what Philip tried to tell himself as he rearranged the packs on the horses. They’d been leading the animals for most of the day — the road through the mountain pass that led to the valley where the village was nestled was steep — but Jaxon had rules about arriving in a town. He had to be riding.
“Do you remember this place, boy?” Jaxon gestured expansively, taking in the valley with its just-touched-with-autumn leaves and the steep mountains surrounding it. “The site of my greatest triumph.”
Philip racked his brain — Jaxon had a lot of greatest triumphs. “When was that?”
“Must have been eighteen years ago this past spring.”
“So I’d have been two.”
Jaxon frowned, but it wasn’t a dangerous frown yet. “You’ve heard the tales.”
“Sure.” They’d all been told by Jaxon himself. “Big battle in the caves under the mountain.”
“Some action in the caves, to be sure, but the real fight was up there.” He lifted one of his broad scarred hands to point to a dark crag that seemed to reach out from the tallest peak, stretching over the valley like a pointing finger.
Jaxon swung up into the saddle in a smooth, practiced motion. Philip got on his horse more gingerly, petting her neck in apology. Smoke was an old mare and she’d been carrying the heaviest of their gear all day, so she couldn’t be happy about adding Philip to her burden — but rules were rules. Jaxon’s rules.
“That’s what gives the village its name,” Jaxon continued, kicking his horse into a trot. His reddish-colored gelding, Spark, was the better horse, but he wasn’t happy with the situation, kicking up his rear hooves. It only caused Jaxon to laugh, because he liked a bit of spirit — as long as it wasn’t too much. Spark, like Philip, knew the limits.
“How so?” Philip asked.
“Come winter, the angle of the sun changes. That bit of rock casts a shadow over the entire village. They can go a month or more without seeing sunlight.”
Philip stared at the crag. Maybe it was less a pointing finger and more an outstretched hand reaching out for ... something. He found it less menacing and more yearning. “What do they call it?”
“The Lookout.” His weathered face, handsome once — according to Jaxon — grimaced. “Seems ‘Shadow’s Vale’ is about as poetic as the sheep herders and cheesemakers who live here get.”
Jaxon frowned more deeply at the village that lay below them. Whether it was from bad memories or just a general distaste, Philip didn’t know, and he wasn’t going to ask. At least the road was clear and seemingly well-used. It probably had to be — it was the only road around, leading through the valley to another mountain pass. Philip couldn’t imagine it was an easy trip in bad weather, and while there were a few shepherd huts on the green slopes of the mountains, there didn’t seem to be any other signs of civilization besides the village with its tight cluster of low buildings and some scattered farmhouses. Pretty, Philip thought, but it must be so lonely, especially in the dark.
“We’ll be gone by winter, won’t we?” he asked.
“Aye,” Jaxon said, “my business here won’t take long. I’m just getting what’s owed to me.”
He kicked the horse to go faster and Philip winced, both for Spark’s sake and because when it came to who was owed, it was Jaxon who had the long list of creditors.
“Come on, boy!” Jaxon yelled from up ahead. “Adventure awaits!”
Philip sighed and clucked at Smoke to urge her on. Adventure with Jaxon usually meant a mess — one that Philip would have to clean up.
Shadow’s Vale’s one inn didn’t have a sign. Instead there was a cracked wooden tankard dangling from a rusty chain above the door. Philip pushed dark curls away from his eyes to stare up at it dubiously. The building had seen better days, but at least it had a second storey and a proper thatched roof. Most of the cottages they’d passed had sod roofs that were covered in patchy grasses — Philip had spotted one with a goat munching contentedly on top of it.
There hadn’t been anyone to see their approach — people were likely inside getting their suppers — but Jaxon set out to rectify that, swinging off his horse with vigor and barely pausing to toss the reins at Philip before striding inside. Before the wide wooden door swung shut behind Jaxon, Philip glimpsed a lively looking tavern. There’d be food at least, and people to listen to Jaxon’s stories, which always put him in a better mood.
Philip sighed and led the horses around back. There he found a long, low stable. No one was around to keep an eye on the lone donkey that was the stable’s only inhabitant, so Philip set about unloading the horses and rubbing them down.
He was working a pebble out from under one of Smoke’s shoes when an orange-and-white cat strolled over and regarded him with unblinking yellow eyes.
“Hello,” Philip said.
The cat looked well-fed, considerably so, but Philip still felt around in the pouch on his belt for a bit of oatcake and held it out to the cat. It came closer and sniffed delicately at the offering, before rejecting it in favor of sitting down and licking a paw.
“You’re very wise,” Philip said, because the cake had started out dry and hadn’t been improved by two days of travel. He gave the morsel to the less-discerning Smoke, stroking her velvety nose.
The cat butted up against his leg. “That’s right, you deserve attention too.” He bent down to scratch the cat behind the ears and was rewarded by it flopping over onto its back. “Belly rubs it is, then.”
“Oh, she likes you.”
Philip looked up to see a girl standing in the doorway to the stable.
“Should I be flattered?” he asked.
“That cat likes everyone. Including mice, which is why she’s an absolute failure of a cat.”
“No, that can’t be true.” Philip stroked the cat in apology for the girl’s words. “What’s her name?
“Most call her ‘that stupid cat.’”
Philip studied the girl. She was a few years younger than him, maybe sixteen or seventeen, but with deep brown eyes that seemed wise. She was thickset, with light skin, pink cheeks, and a small, pointed chin. Her brown hair was neatly tied back in a thick braid and she wore equally no-nonsense clothing — a brown wool dress with an apron pinned over the front. The one whimsical touch was a faded late summer flower tucked behind her ear.
“And what do you call her?”
The girl smiled like she was sharing a secret. “Duchess. She just has that air about her, don’t you think? Like she’s meant for grander things.”
“I can see it,” he agreed. “Duchess.” The cat purred.
Philip straightened up. “Does this place have a name? Like The Splintered Ale or The Cracked Tankard or something?”
She stared at him blankly and then suddenly laughed, covering her mouth with her hands. “You mean the sign out front? That’s been there so long I forgot about it.”
“It’s a good sign.”
“It’s a terrible sign in every which way, but there’s no other inn or tavern in the valley so...”
“So you don’t need a sign.”
They smiled at each other in agreement.
“What about you?” she asked. “Do you have a name?”
“Philip.”
“I’m Lily.” She met his eyes boldly. “I guess you’re staying here and not just breaking into the stable to steal the cat away? Not that anyone would miss her.”
“I haven’t actually talked to the innkeeper yet.” Jaxon left things like arranging rooms to Philip.
Lily nodded. “It’s late in the season for traders so there’s room.” She paused, but Philip didn’t volunteer any information, so she kept talking. “I’ll take you to Sam. It’s his inn. He shouldn’t be too drunk yet.” She watched as Philip put the horses in stalls and helped him get water for their troughs. “I work here — just the tavern part though. Old widow Bellamy cleans the rooms and does the laundry.”
She filled up the bucket of water again and started to carry it inside, but Philip took it from her. Lily smiled as they walked to the kitchen door. “I certainly don’t want to do room cleaning or laundry, but I don’t know why it’s considered unmaidenly to do it. You should hear the things that get said in the tavern. And the wandering hands. Ugh.”
“Uh, well, I promise to be very neat in my room and keep my han
She gave him a sideways glance. “We’ll see where they end up.” Her cheeks grew pinker as though shocked by her own daring.
Philip blinked, but then they were inside the stuffy kitchen and an old woman was yelling at Lily about the water and the customers. Lily yelled back, taking the bucket from Philip and setting it down with enough force to slosh water over the edges. She pulled Philip through the room and out into the main room. It wasn’t less stuffy — because there seemed to be a number of men standing or sitting throughout, all of them talking loudly — but it was wider and more open.
He could see Jaxon holding forth at a long table near the one cloudy window, but Lily pushed him toward the rough-hewn bar and the equally rough-looking man leaning against one of the ale barrels behind it.
“Sam,” Lily said to the man. “Sam!” she yelled when he didn’t look over.
Sam frowned, his eyes looking a bit bleary as he scratched his graying beard. “Where you been?”
“Getting you new customers.” She jerked her head toward Philip. “He needs lodging — at a good rate. Don’t scare him away.” She patted Philip reassuringly before plunging into the raucous room.
Philip felt slightly overwhelmed, but he squared his shoulders and turned away from the crowd and tried to pretend that he and this Sam person were the only people in the room.
“So,” Sam said, picking a fingernail with a small knife. “A room, is it?”
“Yes.” Philip tried not to look too closely at the man’s nails. “Something clean.”
Ten minutes of haggling later, Philip had secured a rate that he knew their dwindling purse could manage and had accepted a small tankard of ale from Sam. He downed it gratefully, the heat of the room and his own discomfort with crowds had sweat trickling down his back. He shrugged off his coat and settled in on a wobbly stool, feeling safe enough to survey the room while Sam poured ale for someone else.
There were nearly a dozen men sitting at table or leaning near the bar. It was too warm for a fire in the big hearth at the one end of the room, but it was dim enough that there were candles at every table, dripping onto older curlicue piles of wax. The candlelight warmed the dark wood of the room and softened the faces near them considerably. The people were loud, yes, but they all seemed to know each other and their laughter and ribbing was friendly. Lily was weaving in and out between the tables like a fast-moving bird. Most people in the room had straight hair and light complexions like hers, which made Philip’s unruly dark curls and olive-toned skin stand out. But no one was looking at him.
Jaxon had the people around him roaring with laughter, pounding the table as he smiled in satisfaction. Philip let himself relax too, as he sipped at the ale. It was surprisingly good and he wanted to make it last.
“Like that ale?” Lily said, all but sailing by, carrying a loaded tray. “I make it. Perfected the recipe, don’t let Sam take any credit. Let me bring you some food.”
She kept moving, Philip calling out after her, “Just cheese and bread!” He had to be mindful of their expenses.
He turned back to the bar to find Jaxon standing beside him. “Well, boy, did you get us a room?”
Before Philip could speak, Sam leaned over. “You two are in luck,” he said, belching a little. “There’s only one other traveler you’ll be sharing with tonight.”
Jaxon’s brows drew down over his stormy gray eyes. “Sharing,” he repeated as though hearing the word for the first time. “Are there no other rooms? Better rooms?”
Philip tensed, but Sam shrugged unconcernedly. “There are two private rooms, but they cost a bit more.”
Jaxon leaned his long body against the bar, looking lordly despite his travel-worn riding leathers. “I want the best room.” He reached into the pouch on his belt and pulled out some silver coins. “Don’t talk to me about cost again. Oh, and another ale.”
“Yes, sir,” Sam said, his whole posture changing as he swept the coins up off the bar.
When he turned away to get the ale, Philip stood and leaned closer to Jaxon. “How many nights are we staying?” he asked him anxiously. “We can’t afford —”
Jaxon’s hand lashed out, too quick for Philip to duck. The blow caught him on the side of the face, and he staggered back, clutching at the stool to stay upright.
“I said,” Jaxon hissed through his teeth, “don’t talk to me about cost.” He tucked back a stray lock of light brown hair that had slipped out of the leather band he tied it back with. Jaxon’s hair was thinning but he still kept it long enough to sweep his shoulders when loose.
A wary hush had fallen over the room, but Jaxon didn’t mind the attention. He took the tankard Sam handed him and turned away. “Make sure my bags are taken up to my room,” he said over his shoulder to Philip. “Stupid boy.”
Conversation started up as Jaxon strolled back to his table. He soon had the crowd laughing again.
“Are you all right?” Lily had come up quietly beside Philip, her big eyes filled with worry.
He shrugged, dropping his hand from his face. “I should have known better. He hates it when I talk about money in front of other people.”
Her lips pursed. “He better be paying you well to take that kind of treatment.”
Philip laughed before he could stop himself.
Lily had an empty wooden tray in one hand, but she put the other on her hip. “Philip. He does pay you, doesn’t he? We do have a sheriff in this village, you know. Even a — a bound servant or an apprentice has some rights under the law.”
“It’s not like that.” Philip shook his head. “He tells me that one day everything he has will be mine, but that likely won’t be much.” He smiled ruefully. “Jaxon is my father.”
She stared from him to Philip. “You don’t look alike.”
“I’m told I favor my mother.” He made himself seem unconcerned even though his face hurt and he was hungry and tired. “She’s been gone a long time so I can’t say for sure.”
Lily looked at him with wide eyes. “I bet you take after her in manner too. You’re quiet and kind.”
“You just met me. I could be secretly awful.”
“No, I’ve been working here a year and half now, and I can size a person up right away.” Her worldly air didn’t suit her soft face. “You’re a good person, Philip.” Lily’s name was being called both from a table and even more loudly from the kitchen, but she leaned closer before hurrying away. “He ordered the mutton, and I’ll be spitting in his plate. I’ll bring you some too — no spitting, I swear.”
The evening wore on, with most of the men heading off to their homes as the sky darkened, but a few remained, listening raptly to Jaxon. Philip knew the pattern of the story-telling — the funny ones when the crowd was loud and thick, while saving the more involved tales for when the shadows grew long and people leaned in close.
Philip stepped out to breathe some fresh air, inhaling an evening crisp with the promise of autumn. Lily joined him, a broom in her hands. She swished half-heartedly at the inn’s stone doorstep before leaning against the broom with a tired sigh.
Philip looked up again at the mountains and the dark crag over the valley. In the growing twilight he could see warm lights and the dim outline of a structure on the slope of the mountain beneath the rocks of the Lookout.
“What’s that?” he pointed.
“Oh, that’s the keep, where the Earl lives.” She wrinkled her nose. “It sounds fancier than it actually is — the place is so old and rundown. This is all the Earl’s valley, I suppose, but folks hardly see him. He doesn’t even come down for the festivals anymore. The servants who work up there are all snooty and put on airs when they come to market, but even they say he’s half-mad.” Her voice grew dreamy. “If I had a castle, even a little one like that, I wouldn’t let it fall to pieces. And there’d be grand parties and people visiting me all the time. I’d definitely have another place to stay in for the winter, so I wouldn’t have to be in this valley when it’s dark and cold.” She peered at him curiously. “Have you traveled all over?”
“I don’t know about all over. A lot of the kingdom, sure. Jaxon has some friends who still let us stay for a month or two, but the rest of the time we’re moving around. I like the travel, mostly. But the big towns and the cities are so crowded I can’t wait to get out of them. I’d rather be in places where it’s wild and open, with just the wind and the clouds, so I can pretend I’m on my own. Alone.”
