Dragons Lost by Daniel Arenson Page B

steeples, rose upon an outcrop of stone that
stretched into the sea. Several firedrakes perched upon the fortress walls, and
others circled above the city. Brigantines anchored in the port, tillvine
blossoms painted on their sails. Here was the eastern border of the
Commonwealth, and the distant Horde warriors were masters of the sea; this was
not only a city of holiness but of war.
    "There will be many
paladins here," Cade said to himself. "Lovely."
    His heart began
to beat more rapidly. Had word of his escape reached this place already? Did
the paladins in Sanctus know to seek him, to bring him back to Mercy? Cade could
not simply saunter into this city, or he'd be caught like a fish leaping into a
boat. If Mercy had any sense to her, she'd have sent a firedrake to every city
within days of Favilla, warning her men to seek him.
    Cade bit his
lip, considering. There would be no sneaking into this city; high walls
surrounded it, and he saw only one gateway. He glimpsed sunlight on armor—guards.
    Guards who might
be looking for me.
    Cade looked
around him. To his left, a copse of aspens grew upon a hill. Their leaves
whispered in the wind, catching the sunlight, flashing back and forth like
thousands of green coins jostled in a purse. Cade bit his lip.
    "I must be
crazy," he told himself. "But it might just work."
    He approached the
trees, plucked off a bunch of leaves, and sat on the ground. He spent a while
meticulously tearing, biting, shaping. Finally he stuffed the leaves into his
pocket, rose to his feet, and walked on.
    Before long he reached
the walls of Sanctus. The gates rose before him, several times his height. The
oaken doors were opened, revealing a cobbled street lined with homes. A handful
of guards stood here, wearing chainmail and white robes embroidered with
tillvine blossoms.
    "Toll's a copper coin,"
said one guard, a portly man with a scruffy face. He yawned. "Though you don't
look like you got a copper on you."
    Cade rummaged through
his pockets. He had fled his village in a mad dash, leaving behind everything
he owned. In his pocket, in addition to the leaves, he found a fallen button he'd
been intending to sew back onto his coat, a purple snail's shell he had picked
up a week ago, and thankfully a single copper coin. He handed the guard the
coin, the last money he had. With another yawn, the guard stuffed the coin into
his purse and gestured for Cade to enter the city.
    With a sigh of relief,
Cade stepped through the gates and onto the cobbled street.
    His breath died when a
hand grabbed him.
    "Wait a moment,"
growled another guard, this one tall and gaunt. Holding Cade fast, he glared at
the shorter, yawning guard. "You heard what the paladins said. They're looking
for someone. A boy, they said. Brown hair like this one got." His voice dropped
to an ominous whisper. "Uncured, they said."
    Cade's heart burst into
a gallop, and sweat trickled down his back, but he refused to show his fear.
    "Here's my brand," Cade
said, pulling down his tunic to reveal his shoulder. "I'm cured. Look, I carry
around ilbane and everything." He pulled out the aspen leaves—the ones he had
carefully shaped, tearing them into long, serrated forms. "I like to make tea with
ilbane. I figure it keeps weredragons away too." He stuffed one of the mock
ilbane leaves into his mouth, chewed, and forced himself to grin. "You want
some?" He stretched out a muddy handful of the leaves toward the gaunt guard. "They're
good to chew."
    The guard cursed and
shoved his hand. "Get away from me. You stink of sweat and shite, and you're
covered in filth." He grumbled. "Go on, get out of my sight. And I warn you, if
I hear you causing trouble in my city, I'll have your bones snapped and your
corpse hung from the walls. Now go!"
    For the first time
since fleeing his home, Cade was thankful he hadn't bathed in a while; perhaps
his smell, even more than his fake leaves, had saved his life. Leaving the
guards, he walked into the city.
    As he