The Freedom of Dragons -- A Sample

Chapter One:

Humming softly, Laurie reached up and ran the palm of his hand down the soft, velvet, muzzle of the dragon -- Loam -- just as Kai had shown him. He smiled as he felt the low vibrations of something similar to a purr rumble through the creature, its bright purple eyes fixed steadily on his as it looked down at him, its long neck dipped so that he could reach. It had wrapped its enormous leathery wings tightly around its body as a defense against the cold. Laurie had still yet to see the dragon in its full glory -- Kai said that dragons did not do well in the cold -- but even without its wingspan, Loam was still by far the biggest creature that he had ever seen. He's read about dragons, of course, seen them soaring high up in the sky, but he had never imagined that they would be as big as this.

And to think that he would soon be riding it...

Laurie giggled and shied away as the forked tip of Loam's tongue darted out to lick his nose, the dragon's hot breath, as strong as a breeze, stirring his hair.

"Fancy yourself as a dragon dancer?"

Both boy and dragon turned their heads to see Kai leaning against a wooden beam, watching them with a sleek smile.

The hay carpeting the wide stables *crunched as Loam maneuvered its long body carefully in one-hundred-and-eighty degrees -- Laurie had to duck quickly as the broad pointed tail swung around, nearly knocking him over -- and padded across to whuffle in Kai's hair and clothes, hoping for treats. Finding none, it harumphed in disappointment and flopped down, laying its great head at Kai's feet and looking up at him plaintively.

"Oh, don't give me that," said Kai, crouching to scratch the dragon between its long, curling horns. "You think I don't know about all your fans that have been coming in giving you titbits? If you eat anymore, you won't be able to stay up in the air, my friend."

The dragon huffed and clamped its mouth around Kai's leg and, with a dragonish smirk, floored him with a quick tug.

"You're lucky I like you," Kai informed him with a laugh, lying back in the hay with his arms behind his head. "Bloody dragons...Now listen here," he said, beckoning Loam closer so the dragon's wide ear was right up by his mouth. "You don't give Tamsyn any nonsense, okay?" The dragon's ear twitched. "I know you don't like her much, and she don't like you even more, but she doesn't like anyone. You know that. Right?" Loam blinked in understanding. "You like Laurie though, don't you? So you look after him. You get them both back home safely. None of your usual nonsense with Tamsyn because your new friend, he's not used to it. And you don't want him to stop liking you, do you?"

The dragon swung his head around to peer at Laurie, as though double checking that what Kai said was true. Then it licked Kai's nose in agreement.

"Good," said Kai, standing up and brushing the hay that had stuck to his hair and clothes and everywhere in-between. "I'm glad we understand each other." He looked up at Laurie. "Feeling ready?"

"No."

Kai laughed. He laughed a lot, Laurie found, and smiled even more. Life was a game to enjoy playing to him. "Just don't panic," he advised, moving around and running his hand along the dragon's spiney back. "Trust Loam, and trust Tamsyn. She doesn't fly much, but she knows what she's doing. If you feel yourself freaking out, just close your eyes and pretend you're dreaming. You can do that, right?" he asked, cocking his head to one side. "They didn't get you yet, did they?"

Laurie shook his head. "Not quite."

"Good." Kai nodded approvingly. "That'll make it easier."

"What about Dakin? He won't be able to--"

"Don't worry," said Kai raising his hands in a placating gesture. "I figured it would be better to sail over. Take it steady, you know? It'll take longer but I wouldn't want to risk flying."

Laurie nodded slowly, sucking his lip. "I really think I should stay and come with you..." He knew it was useless bringing it up again, it had already been decided and he had already reluctantly agreed to it.

As predicted, Kai shook his head, his dark hair falling in front of his face. "The sooner you go, the sooner the captain and I can work on getting Dakin out of the City. We already know where he is. It's just a matter of working out how."

Laurie's expression hardened. "If you know where he is, why is it taking so long?"

Kai regarded him, then sat down on Loam's leg. "You know the big wall around Guilders' Square?"

"Yes."

"Well, they've put guards at every hundred meters. Dakin is in the Palace of Sapphires which, even on a good day, has pretty heavy security. And I expect they've got him held in the extra guarded ward reserved for Dreamers and delinquents. Because you know what the Empire does to people who don't quite fit into their nice little mold? They pump them full of chemicals and break and reform them until they do fit into that mold. That's what they're doing to your brother. That's why it's going to take time, and that's why you need to get out of here. Alright kid," he said before Laurie could question him further. "Take these. You'll need them more than I will for a while." He tugged off his fingerless gloves and reach over to pass them to Laurie.

"What're they made of?" he asked, running his fingers over the coarse, green-brown material.

Kai smirked. "Dragon hide." He laughed when Laurie pulled a disgusted face. "Relax, kid. There's going to be a lot of things you're going to have to get used to. Dragon leather's going to be the least of it, I promise you. Anyway, you'll be glad of them when you're five miles up in the air. Dragon scales are not the most pleasant thing to hold onto for hours at a time. Those spines are sharp and if you slip, and they catch you the wrong way, you're going to lose fingers. You don't ever get on the back of dragon without being fully prepared. That's lesson one." He held up a finger to prove it. "Lesson two --" a second one was flipped up, "-- is you don't ever, and I mean ever, try and make a dragon do what a dragon doesn't want to do. Do that, and you'll end up floundering in the sea. And it'll probably serve you right, too. A dragon always knows best. That's probably why them two -- Loam and Tamsyn, I mean -- struggle to see eye to eye. Stubborn as mules, both of 'em." An affectionate smile slid across his lips. "But you're not like that, right?" He reached over to ruffle Laurie's curly hair. "You'll know better than she does, and this one'll respect you better for it. Not much else to it, really. Dragon knows where to go. Just a matter of holding tight and staying on. Got it?"

Mute with nerves, Laurie swallowed and nodded.

"Once you're through your first flight, and you've come off the other side in one piece, you'll have completely forgotten why you were nervous in the first place," Kai assured him as he watched Laurie's complexion pale and then tinge with green.

"Were you nervous the first time?"

Kai considered this carefully, then shook his head. "Not really. Maybe on my first solo flight. I grew up with dragons, you see. They were just always a part of life. This one here's been with me since I was half you age." He patted Loam's haunches affectionately and the dragon swung its head around with a docile expression in its purple eyes. "Long as you know how to treat 'em, long as you're used to each other, you can trust a dragon far further than you can ever trust a person." He spoke with a casual practised ease that Laurie knew better than to take at face value.

"Where d'you come from?" he asked. "Not the Empire."

Kai chucked. "No, not the Empire. Not really anywhere, really. Just sort of drifted here and there until Logan offered me a home. He's like that, you know. He likes to take in strays. Most leave after a little while, but some stay, like me and Tam."

"Where did she come from?"

Kai hesitated. "I think you should let her tell her story. Not really my place, you know? She'll tell you in her own time."

"Didn't your parents miss you when you went to Logan's? Or weren't they very nice."

"Oh, I never knew them. I don't think so, anyway."

"You don't know?"

"Well, I grew up in a circus that traveled across the world. People were always coming and going. I suppose my parents came and then they went too. And I suppose they left me behind. I never really thought about it and it's never really mattered. That was just how it was. There were always plenty of people around, and we were always too busy to have time to worry about things like that."

"Why did you leave?" Laurie asked, sitting down cross legged in the hay. "How old were you?"

"Eleven, maybe?" said Kai, frowning as he tried to remember. "Something around there. Anyway, I, ah..." He gave an awkward little laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. "Got into a bit of a... disagreement, if you like, with the Master. Then I decided that was that and... that was that. Took my dragon and left. We traveled around for a bit on our own, freelancing and scraping enough money to eat. 'Course, not much money to be made with a one-man, one-dragon show. So I branched out, got myself into trouble, and was lucky enough to come across Logan. Or, more precisely, that he came across me. Took me on as an assistant type thing -- although, I'm pretty sure he only wanted me for my dragon; a useful transport, you see -- and the rest, as they say, is history." His smile broadened, showing just a little too much teeth. "I was the first, you know, of Logan's strays," he told Laurie with a glint of pride. "Tamsyn hates it. She wants to be special. She's not as competitive about it as she used to be -- it used to be awful -- she's chilled out a lot over the years, but she still gets funny when new people come along. Don't take it personally, though. That's just her way. Once she stops seeing you as a threat, she'll be fine."

In The City of Guilders -- A Sample

Chapter One --

“Ah, fuck it...” Robyn muttered, throwing her pen down in disgust and leaning back with her hands clasped behind her head. It bounced on the ledger spread out in front of her, clattered across the table and then dropped to the floor and rolled out of sight. It was the last straw after a particularly arduous day. Gritting her teeth to keep herself from swearing anymore, she held her breath and closed her eyes, counting backwards from ten -- a method she always taught her patients right from the beginning. ‘Focus on the numbers,’ she told them. Numbers were nice and objective, but never count up. Always down. If you count up, you’re liable to never stop. The most important part of recovery is to have a simple, attainable goal. Counting always did the trick.

“You alright?” Her assistant, Trystan, glanced over from his own desk, his brow furrowed in concern.

Robyn sighed and nodded, still keeping her eyes tight shut. “Yeah, fine. It’s been... a long day. That’s all.”

Trystan laughed and breathy, easy laughed. “It has that,” he agreed. “We’ve been here, what? Getting on twelve hours now.”

“Mmm hmm. Twelve hours in this damned room and still no sign of a break- through. Dammit!” Her hand slammed down hard on the table top, making Trystan jump and more stationary clatter to the floor. “Dammit! I had really thought we were getting somewhere.” She ran her fingers fretfully through her long, dark brown hair once, twice and a third time just because. “I was certain that this would be The Week.”

Trystan shot her a lopsided grin. “You say that every week.”

Finally opening her eyes, Robyn glared at him. “That’s because I believe it every week. Because what’s the point of it all otherwise? It’s out there, Trys, and it’s within reach. If I could just...” Her fingers flexed unconsciously, and then she deflated. “Ah, fuck it,” she said again, more defeated this time. “Tomorrow’s another day and next week’s another week. Let’s call it quits for now and get out of here.”

So saying, Robyn shoved her chair back, cricked her neck and stretched out her limbs. For almost the whole twelve hours, she had not moved from her position hunched over her ledger -- searching and searching for the clue in the formula that would finally lead her to the breakthrough she knew she was capable of. And now, she ached. “I’m going to have the longest soak and the biggest glass of wine I can find,” she muttered, sweeping the remaining contents of her desk into her bag and swinging it over her shoulder. “I think I’ve deserved it, don’t you?”

Buttoning up his own jacket, Trystan laughed. “Of course you do.” He was always laughing and smiling, Robyn reflected, flicking off the light as she lead them out of the little room. He was the most easy going person she had ever met. She was thankful for it, too. She needed someone like that to keep her sane. The powers that be had probably designed it that way.

Walking down the long, deserted corridors of the Sapphire Palace, Robyn smiled to herself. As much as she complained, she wouldn’t change any part of her life for anything in the world. It was a good one, and it suited her. Here she was, in the most beautiful city in the Empire, and she was making a difference and working hard to improve the lives of all the Empire’s citizens. And she had worked hard to get there. It was a good life, and she deserved it.

What more could she possibly ask for?

As they approached the main doors which lead out to the Guilders’ Square, Trystan shivered and wrapped his arms around his body. “Wow! It’s freezing!”

“Mmm.” It certainly did seem colder than usual, even despite it being so late. Temperature fluctuated very little in the land beneath the Ever Risen Sun, a few degrees here and there at the very most, but the breeze floating in from the outside made Robyn feel as though her blood had suddenly frozen.

A cold dread settled in her stomach, the dread that could only be brought on by the unknown, the unprecedented, the incalculable. “Trys...” She put out an instinctive hand to stop him and he paused obediently at her touch. “Wait here,” she said. “I’m going to go see what’s going on.”

Licking her lips, Robyn approached the swinging doors with deep trepidation, her heart hammering in her ears. She honestly couldn’t remember ever being so frightened. Even as a child, she was able to rationalise herself out of any encroaching fear. But this... she swallowed hard, reaching out to push against the frosted glass. This was something else altogether.

Gathering her courage and telling herself sternly to stop being so silly, Robyn leaned in and pushed with her entire weight until she almost stumbled out into the night’s air.

A gasp escaped her lips, her eyes widening in shock and wonder.

The world seemed to have turned a dusky orange; the light from the sun-lamps muted and distorted, spreading out like fog. And all around were flurries of white.

Robyn held out her hand and watched, amazed, as frozen flakes settled then melted on her outstretched palm, each one leaving the tiniest stinging kiss on her exposed skin.

Rooted to the spot, her mind whirred, unable to properly determine whether the appropriate action would be to run and hide, or revel in the glory of this bizarre occurrence. Evidence was beginning to suggest, however, that -- despite the chill and the sting of the cold -- this flurry was not dangerous. Just weird.

Thrusting her numbed hands deep into her armpits, Robyn called back to Trystan who was hovering by the door. “It’s alright! It’s cold, but it’s safe. I think.”

Trystan approached her cautiously, squinting up at the sky. “Wow,” he breathed, the hot breath coming out in a large cloud of steam. “What is this?”

“Haven’t a clue.” Her ears and the tip of her nose were beginning to sting. “I don’t think we should stand around in it for too long, though. Not without knowing anything about it.” The tangent seemed to suggest that the longer they exposed themselves to it, the less pleasant it became. It took, on average, twenty minutes to reach her home from the palace, and Robyn was reluctant to find out what would happen to the human body if they stayed out for much longer than that. “Come on,” she said, starting off across the courtyard in long strides. Perhaps she’d be able to make in fifteen today. That would be nice. Motivated by the thought of her nice, hot bubbly bath, she picked up her pace, forcing Trystan to trot along after her, one hand held up to his brow to keep the snow from falling in his eyes.

They always walked home from work together, every day for the last couple of years, ever since he had first come to work with her. Luckily, the path they took through the streets of the City of Guilders was so well worn and ingrained into their memories, it hardly mattered that it was almost impossible to see three steps ahead.

Robyn and Trystan flitted from street lamp to street lamp, lead by the pale orange glow of the trapped sunlight. Conversation had been made impossible by the chattering of teeth, which grew louder and more uncontrollable with every passing minute. Robyn was beginning to despise this weather. She did not do well in change -- good or bad -- and every part of her ached fiercely. The streets of the city were completely deserted, which was partly understandable as it had long passed the hour in which people normally retired to their homes, but the thick blizzard and the unusual quality of the light made the lack of life particularly eerie.

If she hadn’t felt so frozen she was sure her bones would snap, Robyn might have considered making a run for it. But it was too far, and she simply couldn’t risk getting lost. Her senses were already becoming dull, distracted to everything but the bitter cold. She almost found herself praying -- that was how bad it was -- that this weather would pass soon. Although, in the most hardened, sensible part of her heart, she knew perfectly well that this was not something that would simple vanish over night. This was something that would have consequences. And severe ones at that.

But there was no point in trying to think about that now, she reasoned sternly with herself. She had to stay in the moment and just focus on getting home and warm and dry. For such tiny flakes, they certainly managed to soak you to the bone!

Less than five minutes away from her front door, Robyn paused to say goodbye to Trystan, who turned a sharp corner and jogged to his own home, leaving her alone in the blizzard. Part of her wished he had walked her to her door, but this was their routine and it wouldn’t have made sense for him to stay out any longer than necessary. Still, her steps felt heavier and the street felt longer now she was alone, and her mind was beginning to play tricks on her.

She could have sworn that there were figures in the fog, shapeless and indeterminate. And voices too; whispers carried along on the sharp breeze and burying themselves in her ears. Shaking her head, Robyn soldiered on. The sooner she got out of this, the better. If she stayed out any longer, she’d start dreaming again, and where would she end up then?

The image of herself in a hospital gown, gaunt and wide-eyed like one of her patients sent a shiver down her spine, distinctly different and much less pleasant than the chills from the snow. If nothing else, the deepest fear of ending up on her own ward was provided more than enough motivation to always be the very best she could possibly be. She did her best for them -- for each and every one of them, no matter how undeserving they were -- and they were fortunate that there was treatment available to them. Never grateful, though. Not until much much later when, finally, the right strain had been found and administered. They always seemed to labour under the impression that they were better off as they were. Robyn couldn’t understand it -- didn’t want to understand it. How could anyone choose to be like that?

Dreamers were a liability, to themselves and to every other hard-working citizen of the Empire.

Why would anyone choose to be that selfish?

Turning the final corner, Robyn could see her home in the distance and the sight of it filled her heart with a flood of warmth. Thank you thank you. Then, down a tiny side-alley, a movement out of the corner of her eye made her stop and turn and peer through the blizzard.

This indistinct figure was not like the other ghosts that had followed her home. This one was corporeal. Solid. She could reach out and touch it, if she chose to.

Swallowing down her need to be inside, Robyn’s physician-instincts kicked in. No-one should be outside in this.

“Hello?” she called, her voice swallowed up by the snow. “Hello? Do you need help?”

At first, there was no reply except for the roar of wind and the pounding of blood in her ears. Then, as thin as a needle, a voice called back to her. “Hello?” A child’s voice.

Her stomach lurched and all sense of danger for herself was forgotten as she ran towards the voice, kicking up snow behind her. “Where are you?” she shouted into the fog, her hair whipping around her face as looked this way and that, searching for the owner of the voice and hoping against hope that it hadn’t simply been a product of her frost addled mind. “I’m a doctor. I can help you.” She wondered vaguely if she still had her bottle of Somnium Interdit. She had a feeling that she might need some after all this.

“Here. We’re here.”

We?

Her feet carried her reluctant body onwards, spurred on by a distinct sense of duty. As she approached, the figure became clearer and more human until Robyn found herself face to face with a boy. A teenage boy, judging by his gangliness.

He stared up at her, shivering, from behind a mass of curly chocolate-coloured hair; his big, brown eyes hard and fierce and tinged with fear. He hugged himself with arms that seemed a little too long in a useless attempt to keep out the cold. Robyn might not have been dressed appropriately for the weather, but this boy was even less prepared, wearing little more than a flimsy shirt and trousers that looked as if they had been soaked up to the knee. Truth be told, she was amazed that he was still standing.

“What’re you doing out here?” she asked. “Where do you live?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed, then he reached out with thin, frozen fingers and tugged at her hand. “You said you could help,” he insisted, urging her to follow. “Please. Help us.”

“Who’s ‘us’?”

“Me and my brother. Come on. You have to hurry. He’s sick.”

Robyn gave in and jogged after the boy, wondering what on earth she was getting herself into. “What’s your name?” she asked breathlessly, trying to concentrate on How To Be A Doctor. “How old are you?”

But they boy rebuffed her questions with a sharp, “That doesn’t matter right not.” And Robyn was too cold to argue.

Soon, the boy stopped and pointed to a second figure -- his brother -- huddled on the ground and propped up by a tall, brick wall. This boy was older, although it was impossible to give an accurate estimation in that position, and had a man’s coat draped around his shoulders. Lank, grey hair fell across a pallid face and dark blue eyes stared unseeingly ahead through frosted glasses. At first, Robyn feared that the boy had succumbed to the cold and had frozen to death but, on closer inspection, little clouds of steam puffed from between chapped lips. His breathing might have been shallow, but at the very least he was alive.

Robyn crouched down on her feels and peered at him closely. Only the faintest flicker across his features gave any indication that he was aware of her at all, although when she reached out to feel the pulse in his wrist, he flinched and drew away.

The younger boy crouched down beside her. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice low and gentle as though speaking to a small child. “She said she can help. We can trust her.” He glanced sideways at Robyn. “Right?”

She nodded emphatically. “Right. Look, my house is right around the corner. Why don’t we all go there, now, and warm up a bit? I think that’ll make everyone feel better.”

The older boy hesitated, chewing on his bottom lip as he stared *questioningly up at his brother as though seeking permission. Then, when it was given with a nod and a smile, he allowed Robyn to take his arm and help him unsteadily to his feet, slipping on the snow covered ground and leaning on the wall for support.

He was tall, Robyn noticed now, and at least in his late teens, if not older. But there was something, in the way he moved and in the way he held himself, that made him seem almost child-like in *countenance.

Whatever was wrong with him, though, one thing was certain; a warm house and a hot drink would certainly bring at least some degree of improvement.

The Moon Path (second draft): An Excerpt.

© Esme Symes-Smith, 2014

His feet pound the ground to the beat of his heart as he runs, and runs, and runs; his breath catching in his throat as terror chokes him. He is driven by fear and the solitary need to escape. This is the first time in seven years - since the day his brother first came into the world – that Dakin has been selfish. But now, at this moment, his brother is safe. Their mother will protect him. There is no one who can or will do the same for him. He is alone. He must survive on his own.

As he runs, skirting around corners and flying down the long, winding corridors of his home, all he can hear is the blood rushing his ears and the steady thud! thud! thud! of his father behind him, above him, all around him. Every footstep is a sharp spur in his side, kicking him on; a constant reminder of what is at stake should he slow, should he give up, should he be caught.

He mustn’t be caught. Even if he runs to the very edge of the world, it will never be far enough. He must never stop running.

The carpeted stairs are soft beneath his bare soles, the marble of the entrance hall cold and slick, making his ankles ache with every slap of his feet. The great oak door looms up before him and sends a sharp jolt of hope sparking through him. Freedom. Thirty feet away, and he is already reaching for it. His fingers – long, gangly, just like the rest of him – strain towards the bronze knob, stretching, stretching, stretching, just a little further… Dakin’s eyes burn as sharp desperation washes through him, making his legs tremble and his arms feel as heavy as lead.

It is all he can manage to close his fist around the knob. The metal is slick in his clammy palm and refuses to cooperate – slipping and useless every time he tries, fails, to get a grip.

The footsteps on his tail are growing louder, closer, more and more threatening. They are almost upon him, it is almost over.

Dakin sobs as he tugs at the heavy door, his stomach twisting and knotting and making him want to just curl up and die.

“Please please please…” The unconscious prayer settles on dry, trembling lips. Three fingers fly to his breast and tap once, twice. “Greatness luck,” he whispers, pressing his eyes tight shut. “Greatness luck-”

His heart stops for the shortest of moments when finally – finally – the door gives, the handle turns in his palm and the bolt is released. A laugh, short and surprised, escapes through the tears. With every bit of strength he possesses, Dakin holds on and throws himself back, gritting his teeth as he pulls at the heavy door until there is a crack just wide enough for his slim form to slip through and out and away.

A slim hand slips through first, then a foot. He can feel the sharp, cool air of the night on his skin. The stone paving is icy, and stings the sole of his foot. He withdraws it with a hiss, the coldness shooting up through his bones like a needle. He is wasting time – he knows that – every second he is not running is a second closer to being caught.

Dakin puts his foot down again, steeling himself this time, clenching his teeth and holding himself ridged in an attempt to not feel the cold. It is futile, and the pain is as acute and impossible to ignore as it had been before.

He is weak, and that knowledge is as bitter as the sharp ice of the outside.

The boy reaches out and prays, briefly, desperately, stealing a precious moment to ask for strength, just as his mother taught him.

He bites his lip, hard, and tastes blood.

Greatness luck…

Behind him, there is a roar – a low, thunderous sound which trembles through the air and deep into his heart. The force of it is enough to give him that one, final push.

Dakin stumbles out into the bright, chilled night, his thin arms wrapping immediately around his young body. It does nothing to ward off the cold.

Upon the smooth paving slabs he stands, shivering and tiny in the *shadow of his home, looking out at the vast, endless expanse of forest cast out before him, lying beneath the great, white orb of the Ever-Risen Sun.

It is impossible not to be overwhelmed.

Dakin’s dark-blue eyes widen; his mind whirling as he tries desperately to formulate the plan he knows he needs, to foresee the route that he has to take. He cringes internally at the magnitude of the journey before him, his breath snagging on a lump his throat, his head swimming.

It’s too much. He can’t do it. He wants to turn and go back inside, into the warmth. He will face his punishment willingly, gratefully, if only it meant feeling warmth on his face again-

Coward coward coward coward.

 But there is no choice. Not really.

His feet – numb, throbbing – drag him onwards; down the hard, stone steps and onto the gravel path, the tiny sharp tones biting at him as though each one possessed a mouthful of teeth. The sound of his own teeth chattering together drown out anything and everything else.

He sees a gap in the silver-washed trees and aims himself towards it. If only he can lose himself, if only he can get just a little further before he is seen…

Dakin does not hear the sound of leather upon stone, nor does he feel the hand clamp around the numbed skin of his forearm. It is only the hot breath burning the nape of his neck, the rush of air as he is spun sharply around, and the sudden sensation of falling falling as he is struck down - the back of his father’s hand colliding sharply with his cheek - that Dakin knows it is over.