Dragon War: The Draconic Prophecies - Book Three by James Wyatt Read Free Book Online Page B

said. “I’m not sure what to do now.”
    “What did you do while Haldren was in Dreadhold?”
    “I waited.”
    “That’s all? Just waited?”
    “I did odd things here and there to pass the time. I worked in Passage for a while, carrying crates. Senya dragged me into an old Dhakaani ruin once with some half-elf wizard who promised her a fortune. Mostly I waited.”
    “So what do you want to do with your freedom?”
    Cart looked down at her, into her warm, brown eyes. He eased his arm free of her hands and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her close to his side. She put one arm around his waist and laid the other hand on his chest, and her head rested beside her hand. It was confusing to him—he hated the thought of being owned: her dismissive words to the Cannith warforged had cut him like daggers. But the urge to hold her close, keep her beside him, protect her—it was a fiercely possessive urge.
    “Freedom is a strange thing,” he said. With her body so close to his, he slowed his step and she matched it, so they found a slower rhythm together. “Nobody owns me, but Gaven and Aunn and you seem to have a hold on me anyway. What I want to do is to be with you.”
    “Freedom is the ability to choose your commitments,” Ashara said, “to choose what owns your loyalty.”
    “Then perhaps I am yours after all.”
    Her smile spread all across her face, touching every one of the tiny muscles beneath the skin—such an intricate construction, he thought, like the work of a divine artisan.
    “And I’m yours,” she said.
    *  *  *  *  *
    Aunn stood at the door to Kelas’s study. Out of habit, he cast his mind over his body, from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet, making sure every detail was in place for Kelas’s inevitable scrutiny. Only thistime the details were those of Kelas’s own appearance, and no one would be in the study to inspect him. He glanced at Gaven, motionless at his side, then pulled a ring of keys from one of Kelas’s pouches and found the right one. Taking a deep breath, he turned the key in the hole and pushed open the door.
    Nothing had changed. He knew the room at least as well as his own suite, which he hadn’t seen in months. The large oak desk gave the room its color and character, dark and solid. For an absurd moment, Aunn wasn’t sure where to sit. A wooden chair between the desk and the door was Aunn’s accustomed place; the one behind the desk, upholstered in leather, was where Kelas would sit. He shook his head to clear it, then led Gaven to the wooden chair and walked around the desk to Kelas’s chair.
    “Well, Gaven,” he said, “perhaps you’re wondering why I’ve brought you here.”
    He ran his hands over the chair’s leather, worn but well cared for. He sat gingerly, then settled back against the cushions. It was a comfortable seat—it fit Kelas’s body perfectly.
    “Frankly, I’m wondering the same thing. This seems a bit like madness.”
    He spread his palms over the oak of the desk, which he had never touched before. It was smooth, immaculately clean, warm. Only a single sheaf of papers on his left side marred the dark, polished surface.
    “But here we sit, until Cart and Ashara come back with whoever they think can bring you back to your right mind.” He looked at Gaven, whose eyes were fixed on some point behind the wall, then pulled the sheaf of papers closer. “Let’s see what Kelas was reading, shall we?”
    The writing on the paper was written in thick, angular letters that made Aunn think at first they were in Dwarven, but the letters were Common:
    The servant seeks to free the master
,
seizing flesh to unbind spirit
,
to break the serpent’s hold
.
    Touched by flame, the champion
recapitulates the serpents’ sacrifice
,
binding the servant anew
so the master cannot break free
.
    “What in the Traveler’s ten thousand names …?” Aunn breathed. He thrust a hand into a pouch at his belt and rummaged until he found a