Dragon City, Dragon Heart Series Book 15

The first thing Hadjar saw when he opened his eyes was the sun hanging over the valley. Unlike the sun above a city, a mountain, or a forest, the sun above a valley had its own distinctive features. It resembled a huge, fiery orb as it hovered in an endless blue haze just behind distant, fluffy clouds, which sort of looked like mountains. Nothing obscured his gaze. The sun above a valley… Hadjar had always liked it. Maybe that was why the same beautiful sight could be found in his soul world. Or, rather, it used to be found there… “f**k!” He swore as he tried to sit up, grimacing at the sharp pain in his abdomen. It truly felt like someone had stabbed a red-hot dagger into it and had then twisted it as well for good measure. “Calm down, stranger.” A cold, wet cloth was placed on his forehead. A few drops of water slid down onto his nose and eyes. “It’s too early for you to move around.” Itia… Hadjar recognized her voice — high and slightly nasal, like the wind beckoning you to go further. It belonged to the sort of people who, once upon a time, had used their voice as a tool, but not for music or acting. He had already heard such voices before, when he’d lived in the brothel, playing the Ron’Jah for the audience’s enjoyment. They were the voices of the girls who no longer worked with clients, but still remembered how to earn some coin with them. Itia fixed her copper-colored hair and put Hadjar back on the hastily-constructed bed — some furs atop a bunch of hay and a few rags serving as a sheet. It was passable. “You don’t look surprised, stranger.” Abraham Shensie, the roguish leader of the smugglers, was sitting by the fire. Next to him, Gustaf and Guy were meditating. They were surrounded by small saplings and were currently hidden on a huge cliffside. “If I can open my eyes, that means someone already took care of my wounds…” It was difficult for him to speak. The words painfully got past his numb, rusty throat. But he had long ago gotten used to pain, and even saw a certain calm in it now. It proved that he was still alive, which was good. “And I don’t know anyone but you for miles around.” Abraham was playing with his long, curved dagger. As he looked at it, Hadjar’s wound started aching again. Hadjar had suspected since the m******e at the delegation that Tash’Magan had somehow been involved in what had happened. She’d been too calm and happy in some ways. Like a cat that had finally caught a mouse and was now playing with it. What was her motive? He’d thought he knew — getting revenge on the Imperial family for her fallen family members. But as it turned out, things were much more complicated. Hadjar couldn’t have possibly foreseen Tened’s involvement in the conspiracy against her father. He f*****g hated schemes… “You can still think…” Abraham twirled his dagger between his fingers, and then abruptly moved toward the bed. The sharp blade flashed and touched Hadjar’s throat. “Abraham!” Itia exclaimed, but Guy put a hand on her shoulder. The half of his face that wasn’t covered by his mask showed a stern, sad look. Gustaf had already nocked an arrow, keeping it aimed at Hadjar. Even if Hadjar had been perfectly fine, he would’ve had to try very hard to avoid both Abraham’s dagger and Gustaf’s arrow at the same time. “Now, let’s talk, Hadjar,” Abraham said coolly as his eyes flashed. “I have a dagger in my hand. Behind me is Gustaf, who still blames you for the fact that he had to spend a fortune in arrows at the Port of the Dead. Neither of us is in the mood to hear another lie. So, choose your words carefully. Otherwise, they may be the last thing anyone will ever hear from you before you go to your forefathers.” Well, that was brutally honest. Hadjar chuckled a little to himself. What would be the honorable thing to do here? When he’d been young and naive, he’d believed in honor. But with each new step he’d taken along the world’s paths, honor had clearly shown him that it was nothing more than an obsession for fools who believed in fairy tales. Hadjar leaned back against his improvised pillow and looked up at the sky. Serene, blue, and so far away. The wind was whispering something in his ear, but he wasn’t listening to it. He hadn’t been listening to it for such a long time... “Is your name Hadjar Darkhan?” Abraham asked. “Is that your real name?” “It is.” “Do you swear it on your parents’ graves?” “I do.” The fact that he’d been born Hadjar Duran didn’t matter now. Darkhan was his own name, one he’d earned himself. “Well... At least that’s something,” Abraham snorted. Strangely, he put his dagger away. He spun it around on his wrist and drove it back into its scabbard. “Sorry... I never trust those who hide their name. You can expect anything from such people.” He looked at Hadjar’s stomach and grimaced, “Like them stabbing you in the back.” Hadjar smiled wryly. The son of the famous thief knew his stuff. He’d put his dagger away, but the arrow was still aimed straight between his eyes. “Her name isn’t Gevena Usense, is it?” Hadjar didn’t answer immediately. Despite everything that had happened, the wreath created by Chin’Ameh was still on his head. It wouldn’t allow him to share any information about the events that had occurred during the delegation. So, the realization that he could safely answer the question didn’t immediately dawn on him. “It isn’t.” Abraham nodded like something he’d suspected had just been confirmed. “Then let me guess, Hadjar Darkhan.” He sat down on the ground and leaned his back against a tree. “The one we know as Gevena Usense is actually Princess Tened, the heiress of the Ruby Palace and the entire White Dragon region. And you are the Ruby Hero, who must accompany her to the Ruby Mountains and then bring her back. In other words, she’s a dragon, and you’re most likely a halfbreed.”