Page 12 of Lightningborn

“The dragon,” Remy went on. “Did it eat the storm mage?”

“No, of course not,” Bart exclaimed. “Dragons don’t eat people. Or at least, domestic dragons don’t. They’re kept very well fed, so they never go hungry.”

“So what do they eat?” Remy asked, stopping Bart from launching back into the tale.

“Meat,” Bart said shortly. “Dragons are predators, after all. Do you think those fangs and claws are for show? They eat meat: sheep and pigs if they’re part of a fancy stable. Though some of the smaller stables feed their dragons fish or poultry, if they don’t have a ready supply of mutton.” He snorted. “There are even stories of greedy nobles feeding their dragons rats to cut back on cost. Dragons aren’t picky. They can eat almost anything, as long as it’s meat.”

Remy nodded, his mind already spinning. “They must eat a lot, then,” he said as Bart opened his mouth to return to the story. “How often do you have to feed a dragon?”

Bart gave him an exasperated look. “It depends,” he replied, and he picked up his mug, pausing to take a long sip.

Some of the sailors started to mutter, impatient with the delay in the story, and Remy hurried on. “It depends? On what?”

“Lots of things!” Bart plunked his mug back down and glared at him. “How old is the dragon?” he asked. “How often are you flying them? Adult dragons can store energy in their bodies, much like large lizards or snakes. If you feed them a large meal, they won’t need to eat again for several days unless you take them flying. Flying takes a lot of energy, as does breathing fire, and the dragon will have to feed again soon after. Also, hatchling dragons eat a lot more often than adults; you have to feed a hatchling every day for it to grow.”

Remy’s heart sank at these words. How was he going to feed Storm every day? He barely scraped enough together to feed himself.

Bart was staring at him intently now, his rheumy eyes both exasperated and suspicious. “Here now, what is this?” he asked. “You’ve haven’t been interested in any of my tales in years, boy. Why the change of heart?”

“Oh, um…” Quickly, Remy racked his brain to come up with an excuse for his sudden interest in dragons, but at that moment, the doors of the tavern flew open with a bang.

Remy jumped. Everyone turned, looking up from their tankards, as a cold, rain-laced wind blew into the room. Remy glanced at the door and felt a chill trace his spine like a finger of ice.

A man stepped into the tavern, his knee-high boots knocking loudly against the wood. He was lean and tan and dressed entirely in black, the edges of his coat tattered as if torn by the wind. His long hair, unbound and wild, was a bright, shocking silver, which only meant one thing. This wasn’t just a pirate; this was a rogue mage. And a rather famous one, at that.

Jhaeros, captain of theWindshark, the huge, armored warship Remy had seen last night, stepped into the room.

“Good evening.” The mage’s deep, amused voice carried into the room as he sauntered forward. Two rough-looking men, obviously bodyguards, followed him, but he was the only figure that mattered. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

Heart pounding, Remy melted back into the corner, watching the mage approach. Jhaeros observed the room coolly, a faint smirk on his face as he scanned the crowd. Pirates averted their gazes as he swept past. According to the stories, Jhaeros was responsible for sending dozens of sky ships plunging into the Maelstrom. TheWindsharkwas fast, armored, and aggressive, but it was the mage captain himself who was the more dangerous. Sailors claimed he could blast lightning from his hands, turn the winds against you, and summon tornadoes to tear sails into rags. He prowled the edges of the Fringe like a predator, seeking any ships with weaknesses, but this was the first time Remy had seen him in the Salty Barrel.

“As you were,” Captain Jhaeros said, waving a hand as he crossed the room. Pirates and sailors watched him intently, their expressions tight with fear. Behind the bar, Ferus was frozen, face pale as the rogue mage sauntered past.

Coming to a halt in front of Crusty Bart’s table, Jhaeros smiled down at him. “Don’t stop on my account,” he told Bart. “Please, continue your fascinating tale. Youarethe one who knows everything about dragons, is that correct?”

Bart gazed up at the rogue mage. Watching him from the corner of the room, Remy was amazed to see a flash of anger cross the old man’s face before it smoothed out again. “I’m a storyteller,” Bart said calmly. “I tell stories about dragons, sky knights, airships, and mages. Doesn’t mean I know anything about them.”

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Jhaeros replied, still smiling. “Because I also heard a rumor that you were heavily involved with dragons once. Isn’t that right, Bartello?”

Bartello?Remy frowned. He’d never heard the old man called anything but Crusty Bart. Of course, Bart had been around since before Remy was born; he had always been a gruff, antisocial old man who told stories in exchange for drink. No one had ever thought of him as anything else.

Bart’s face tightened, but then he gave a raspy chuckle and shrugged. “That was a long time ago,” he told Jhaeros, waving a wrinkled hand like it was no big deal. “Honestly, I don’t remember much of it at all. Drink’ll do that to you.” He tapped the side of his head with a grin. “I can barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday.”

“I’m sure.” The rogue mage did not sound convinced. “Well, perhaps this will jog your memory.” Turning, he gazed around the rest of the room and raised his voice. “I’m looking for a dragon,” he said loudly, making Remy’s stomach clench. “A small one, barely larger than a cat. The stupid creature escaped its cage last night and got caught in the storm, which blew it here. I would very much like it returned. And if you think finding and selling this dragon anywhere else will make you rich, let me assure you…”

He snapped his fingers, and one of his bodyguards heaved a small chest onto Bart’s table with a clunk. His mug toppled and fell to the ground, smashing into pieces, but no one except Bart seemed to notice. Jhaeros pushed back the lid, revealing a glittering heap of gold coins, jewelry, and gems that caught the light and threw spots of color over the ceiling. Every eye in the room bulged at the amount of wealth suddenly on display.

“This is just a portion of what I can offer for the dragon’s safe return,” Jhaeros said into the stunned silence. “Whatever you think this dragon is worth, I can top it. You won’t get a better deal than what I am offering, trust me.” He closed the lid with a squeak, hiding the vast fortune from view. Those in the room took a collective breath as a bodyguard picked up the chest and tucked it beneath one muscular arm. “Oh, and one more thing,” Jhaeros said, reaching into his long black coat with a smile. “Just in case anyone has any thoughts of taking my dragon for themselves, this is what happened to thelastperson who tried to steal from me.”

He held up his hand, and a grinning skull perched on the tips of his fingers, making Remy’s blood chill. “Poor lad,” Jhaeros said, a mock frown on his face as he observed the skull. “He might be smiling now, but he certainly wasn’t happy a few days past. He did have a very nice screaming voice, though.”

Blue strands of lightning flickered between the mage’s fingers, and the skull suddenly turned black before dissolving into ash in his palm. Remy bit his lip, and he shrank farther into the corner as the rest of the patrons let out shouts and cries of alarm.

Jhaeros dropped his arm, letting the ash drift to the floor, and dusted off his hands. “Well, I think we’ve made our point here,” he told his bodyguards, then glanced up at the room. “Find my dragon,” he said loudly. “Deliver it to me and become rich. Steal from me and become dead. Your choice. If you find the creature, or even see it, let me know immediately. I will be on my ship, theWindshark, until my dragon is safely returned.” He smiled, then offered a small bow as he stepped back. “I wish you all a good day, and good hunting. I’ll be waiting.”

He strode from the tavern, boots thumping against the floor, his two bodyguards following him out like trained dogs, and the door creaked shut behind them.

Remy pushed himself out of the corner. His heart was pounding as the room exploded with noise and excitement. Pirates were grabbing their belongings, tossing money on the table to pay for their drinks, and rushing out the door. Everyone wanted to go searching for the dragon.

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