Page 56 of Heart of Shadows

Brand’s face softened and he nodded to the elf, a sympathetic grimace on his face that Harper didn’t understand.

Aedon smiled half-heartedly in return. “They’re very rare. I’m sad to say the King of Pelenor stockpiles dragons, alive and dead.”

Erika scoffed. “What man thinks he can own a dragon?”

“The king believes he can own every dragon, as you well know.” Aedon pursed his lips. “So he also considers Dragonhearts to belong to him. He never allows them to have final rest, as befits them. They are impossible to get ahold of. Except,” said Aedon delicately, “we have one right in our midst.” As one, Aedon, Brand, Erika and Ragnar turned to Harper and affixed her under their scrutiny.

“You want my Dragonheart,” said Harper, and now her hand did wind into her garments to touch the rough, hard surface of the Dragonheart.

“Yes,” said Aedon quietly.

Harper’s hand trembled, and she swallowed audibly. How did she feel about that? The Dragonheart was her pass to freedom—her only opportunity to return home to Caledan.

“There’s just one problem.”

Harper’s attention snapped to Aedon, and her breath stalled.

Ragnar groaned. “You don’t know how it’s done.”

“No.” Aedon admitted, biting his lip. “Not a clue. That knowledge is beyond anything I learned in Tournai. The answers we seek, however, are there. I have no doubt. The royal archives are famed for their comprehensiveness. To understand how to use a Dragonheart to create more of this life-saving potion, that is where we must go.”

Harper felt nauseous. Everything she had set her sights on—a trip to the royal court, where she could use the Dragonheart to leverage her return home—was in jeopardy, because now, her companions wanted, needed, that prize for their own ends. And it could not fulfil both.

There were four of them. One of her. They were highly trained—and magical. She was… she pushed that thought away, because the answer that floated to her was viciously unkind. Useless. Would they try to take it by force if she did not want to give it? Her hand grasped the Dragonheart so tightly under the folds of her cloak that pain bit into her palm. She couldn’t breathe.

“Well, there’s no chance of getting it overnight,” said Brand, his voice calm, unaware of her spiralling thoughts. “What’s to be done about this village? We must stop the sickness spreading amongst the people.”

“Nothing that I know,” said Aedon, dragging his hands through his already messy hair. “We don’t have enough cure to make everyone immune. We’re going to have to choose, or let the villagers choose, who to save immediately and who must wait for our return.”

“I agree,” said Brand. “If there’s a chance of some kind of cure, even if it’ll be nigh on impossible to get, we have to try. If we don’t, there’ll be a lot more in the same position. We promised these people we would help.”

“Let it be done then,” Aedon said with a heavy sigh. “At first light, we’ll wake everyone and the decision shall be made, then we’ll leave for the capital. We need the knowledge of the archives to have any hope of making this potion spread further.”

Erika groaned. “I think dealing with the Tir-na-Alathean elves would be easier than this.”

Aedon answered, his voice muffled as he placed his head in his hands. “What other choice do we have?”

“We’re going to the royal city?” Harper asked, taking a shuddering breath.

Aedon looked up at her. “It looks like you got your wish after all. We’re going to Tournai.” He made no mention of the Dragonheart, but Harper was certain the same thoughts were already running through their heads. Surely they had to have already conceived of taking it from her too?

A frisson flickered through Harper at the potential—she was closer, perhaps, than she had yet been at finding a way back to Caledan. Yet, the threat lingered. Her new companions needed her Dragonheart—for a purpose far more noble than her own. Guilt and worry tangled within her.

42

HARPER

The next morning, the hushed villagers assembled, and Aedon dealt them their predicament. Too many for a limited cure, and nothing to be done there and then about it. It left a sour feeling in Harper’s stomach. Yet again, a tale of the poor suffering whilst the noble elite possessed all the wealth and resources to end it. Perhaps Pelenor was not as different to her home as she had hoped.

“You must choose, I’m afraid. I’m sorry it has come to this. We did our best, but alas, we did not realise this would spread so quickly. We’ll leave at once to obtain more elixir, whether we have to beg, borrow, make, or steal it. I promise, we will return. We will not forsake you in your hour of need.”

Their leader stepped forward. He stood tall and proud, but Harper saw the wobble in his step and the sweat beading upon his brow as he strained to hold himself up with the aid of a cane. The others looked to him. “If that is what it takes, so be it. We are grateful for your assistance. We know the risks you have placed yourselves in to even procure such a small amount for us. Others need it more than I. I shall wait until you return.”

“It may be a while, Ralkan,” warned Aedon.

“We place our faith in you,” Ralkan said in an even voice. Even though he put on a brave face, Harper saw how his shoulders sagged. “You did not fail us once, and I’m sure you will not fail us now.”

“Who shall take the cure?” Aedon asked, casting his gaze about those assembled.

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