Dragonstorm: A Dragonhall Chronicles novel (The Reasoner Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Dragonstorm

  The Reasoner Trilogy book 2

  Mirren Hogan

  Copyright © 2018 by Mirren Hogan

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  About the Author

  Also by Mirren Hogan

  Dedicated to Fiona Clarke and Aaron Coventry. Thanks for the help, you guys rock!

  Chapter One

  Emmin watched the water rise, unable to look away, powerless to stop it.

  "Don't worry," Bakel said from beside her, "it's timed for minimal casualties."

  "People will still die," she hissed. She looked back toward Daven. His face was pale, eyes transfixed on Laena Rhel, the flame-haired magin who was one of the most powerful singers in Dargyn.

  "They'll listen," Bakel replied.

  "This isn't the way," she insisted.

  Laena Rhel began to sing, beginning as a handful of low notes, then slowly rising to a crescendo. With every word the water rose, and Emmin's despair with it.

  "Do you think I want this?" she heard her father speak, but when she turned to look at him, he'd turned away.

  "Why—" She knew wouldn't get an answer, not now. Maybe not ever, knowing Bakel and his tendency to keep his thoughts guarded. Perhaps he'd said something else and she'd been mistaken.

  "This is wrong." She held her breath as the water reached impossible heights, then swept sideways, slamming into Paryos with full force.

  Chapter Two

  The premature darkness suggested a storm rolling in off the sea. There was no thunder yet, no flashes of lighting, just black cloud on the horizon. The air felt hotter, stifling.

  In spite of that, Brish the bard shivered. He wrapped his arms tighter around himself and tried to ignore the growing discomfort in his rear. How long he'd been sitting on the rooftop, he'd no idea. An hour? Two hours? How long had passed since the wave washed over Paryos? It hit in the afternoon, while most people were inside, out of the worst of the day's heat. He'd left one rooftop to search the bards' hall for survivors. Finding none, he'd escaped to the hall's roof and waited.

  Reason only knew what he was waiting for, but he sat and watched the city. In the distance, he'd seen movement, heard a train leave, tooting its departure. He heard shouting. They were coming closer but were still at least several blocks away.

  The bards' hall was close to the waterfront. He had a view of the ocean which might have been pleasant under other circumstances. Other buildings obscured the docks. Curiosity itched at him—were they were still there, or had they been washed away?

  For once, he'd made his curiosity wait.

  Lightning flashed out to sea. Brish counted to ten before thunder followed. A sound from the street below came a few moments later. He peered off the side of the roof.

  Footsteps came closer.

  He slipped back from the edge and crossed to the other side of the roof on silent feet. The ladder leading to the street was creaky, making every step slow and careful. Brish held his breath all the way down, wincing every time the ladder groaned and protested his weight. He dropped to the pavement and crouched, listening.

  The footsteps drew near. Unless he was mistaken—and he rarely was—it was only one person.

  He chewed his lip and looked around for anything he could use as a weapon, just in case he needed to defend himself. Whoever it was could be a looter or someone bent on hurting him. He couldn't dismiss the voice in the back of his mind that wondered if this was an accident at all. Did magin have this kind of power? If they did, they might want to finish off any bards they found. The hall bore the brunt of the wave, suggesting what? He didn't want to think about it.

  The street was littered with refuse, most of it just discarded rubbish from the docks, mixed with seaweed and silt. He found bits of cloth, pieces of rope, then a sodden doll with only one eye and no legs.

  After a moment he found what he was looking for, a long piece of wood, possibly from the side of a warehouse. He picked it up and hefted it. It was sturdy, but not too heavy. Being of slight build, he didn't want a weapon too heavy to use.

  Keeping the board raised and ready, he stepped toward the corner of the building and stopped. The footsteps were heading that way, toward the front of the hall. In a matter of moments, they'd walk around and Brish would swing.

  He gritted his teeth, letting his anger simmer over. For every single person whose body lay inside the hall, whose lives had been taken as though they were nothing, he'd strike out. He anticipated the magin's head crumbling like cheese under his blow. Not usually bloodthirsty, he was too furious and lost in grief to care.

  He held his breath as a form rounded the corner. His shoulders dropped and he brought the board around, only stopping a hair from slamming it into the side of Harm's head. He dropped the board to the road with a clatter and threw his arms around his friend.

  "What? Brish? Reason, I thought you'd be gone by now." Harm gave him a squeeze and then stepped back, his face a mask of worry.

  "I only got a block away before the wave hit," Brish said. "I thought you were dead."

  "Not me," Harm said lightly, "my shoes might be, though."

  Brish glanced down and saw the dark leather, still damp from the water. From the look of this clothes, he'd been drenched to his waist.

  "I was far enough away to catch the edge." Harm explained. "I had to grab hold of a stair rail to keep from being swept away." His eyes glazed at the memory. "The other parts of the city got a bit of water, but nothing like this." He gestured around, his gaze following his hand. "This is…" Harm was like a rock, but this had him rattled to his core.

  "Yes, it is." Brish's tongue flicked over his lips. "I've been inside. I couldn't find anyone alive. I wasn't sure what I should do." There, he'd admitted it—the reason why he'd waited for so long. He was smart and resourceful, but in this situation he was at a loss.

  "You kept yourself alive," Harm said, patting his shoulder. "That's all anyone can expect under the circumstances."

  Brish looked down at the ground as another flash of lightning lit it up. "How could this happen?" True, he'd convinced himself that the magin were behind it, but he desperately wanted Harm to tell him he was wrong. The idea that a person, or people, might do this to others defied understanding.

  "Sometimes nature does terrible things," Harm started, looking unconvinced.

  "But you don't believe this is natural?" Brish asked, resigned
in the knowledge that humans were not always logical or reasonable to each other.

  Harm gave a deep sigh. "No, I don't," he replied. "It's too focused. The last big tide we had was spread across the entire docks. I went back that way and it's centred directly toward the hall, and the reasoners' headquarters, as well and government offices near the docks. They missed the Black Orchid entirely."

  The Orchid was a brothel with the reputation of catering to diverse tastes, apparently specialising in acts which involved whips and bindings. The idea didn't much appeal to Brish, but as long as everyone was an adult, and in full agreement, then he held nothing against it. Evidently the magin didn't either. That didn't make them any less terrible.

  "Well, that's good," Brish said, his mind wandering for a moment. He chewed his lip, then decided that since Hailyn was dead, she couldn't object to him telling his friend the truth.

  "I wasn't going to Peshkai," he said, "Hailyn was sending me to Hoza to infiltrate the magin."

  "Hoza?" Harm frowned and rubbed his chin.

  "She said they have a base there," Brish added, "but I guess she didn't see this coming."

  "I suppose not," Harm agreed, looking troubled.

  "You didn't know they were there?"

  Harm shrugged with one shoulder. "If Daris knew, and I can't imagine how else she'd have learned about it, then he said nothing to me. Not that he told me everything." He fixed Brish with a look.

  "What? You think sending me there was Daris' idea?" Reason. If that was the case, then the plan was in the works for a few weeks at least, and the dark looks Hailyn kept giving him were all part of the act. For a bard, whose job it was to find out things, what he'd been was clueless.

  "It's possible. But then he was murdered, so maybe they weren't at Hoza at all. They could be anywhere in Dargyn. Including here."

  Brish swallowed. "What do we do now?"

  Harm thought for a few moments. "We'll go to another hall. The one in Tharay is the closest. They'll know what to do. Or at least, they can finish your apprenticeship and give me new duties."

  "I suppose you're right." It felt like they were turning their tails and running. Still, as an apprentice, Brish had a responsibility to the guild while he remained a member of it.

  "Were you really going to hit someone with that board?" Harm asked, poking it with his shoe.

  "If you were a magin I would," Brish replied. "I thought they'd come back to finish me off."

  "They still might, " Harm said. "We need to hurry." He started toward the doorway leading into the hall.

  "Away isn't that way," Brish pointed out, following him. The top of the steps was almost dry, but with the coming storm, that wouldn't last long. The layer of dirt on the surface made them slippery and treacherous. Brish slipped twice on the walk up but managed to keep on his feet. Paryos was built with high tides in mind, but this was far more than city planners could ever have imagined.

  "I know, but there are things we need to get first."

  The idea of walking amongst more death was almost more than Brish could handle. He'd seen enough in the last couple of weeks to last a lifetime, and Hailyn's face, frozen in shock, would linger in his mind forever. She looked to have been swept up in the wave and dashed against a wall. There had been no blood, but the trauma to her head was noticeable and sickening. He hadn't thought he'd see anything as horrible as Daris dying in front of him. The depths of misery people could inflict on each other went far deeper than he'd ever realised.

  "Like what?" Before Harm could answer, Brish grabbed his arm and held him back. "It's awful in there. Are you sure you want to go? We could wait until the reasoners have been to … clear the place."

  "That could take days," Harm said, "haze knows who might have gone through the hall before that? No, we need to grab a few important things before anyone else gets here." He looked serious for a moment. "Do you trust me?"

  "Of course I do," Brish replied, frowning. "Why, do you think I don't? Or shouldn't?"

  Harm gave a lopsided smile. "You should. I'm looking after us both, and the hall. Believe me."

  "I do." Brish released his arm and stepped inside first, in time with a flash of lightning and accompanying rumble of thunder. The smell inside was already bad. If Harm was right, and it took days for the reasoners to inspect the building and have workers remove the dead, it'd be much worse. He wanted to be long gone before then.

  Chapter Three

  This wasn't the first time Brish had rifled through the cabinets and drawers of the hall master's office. It was, however, the first time since Daris died and Hailyn had taken charge. The last time, he'd been looking for a sign of what Daris was up to with the magin, and the meaning of the word yaraz. While he'd heard the word mentioned by people he'd followed months ago, he'd never learnt what it meant. At some point he'd decided it must be the name of a magin, and he'd all but put it out of his mind. He recalled it now, and that he'd missed his chance to ask Daris what it was. He'd never get the opportunity; Daris had been murdered shortly after that conversation.

  He kept one eye on the door, ears open for approaching footsteps. His skin itched with the uncomfortable feeling they'd be caught at any moment. Even knowing Hailyn wasn't going to walk in and see them, he still felt like an intruder.

  The floor underfoot was sodden, and already smelled like dirt and salt. In a few days, it'd be worse. In due course, the floors would be torn up and replaced with customary Dargyn efficiency. Even if all the bards were dead, the building would be back in use before the month was through. There was no time for sentimentality.

  "Can we open a window?" he asked, hopeful.

  "We can't risk being seen or heard," Harm replied. "We shouldn't be here long." He gave Brish a regretful look and turned away. "The sooner we get to work, the sooner we can leave."

  Brish twitched the edge of the curtain aside and looked out onto the street. A couple of people walked past, each bearing a bag. Looters. They'd be hanged without hesitation if the reasoners caught them.

  Vermin.

  Brish curled his lip in disgust and let the curtain drop back into place.

  He moved away from the window, stepping around the upturned desk, toward a tall cabinet which bore water stains up its surface. It sat at an angle to the wall. Haze, the water had picked it up and moved it. Nor far, granted, but further than a person would be able to easily do.

  Gingerly, he slid a drawer open and water sloshed out, adding to the moisture on the floor. The paper within was little better than pulp. The ink had run, and the pages stuck together so one file was indiscernible from the next. He tried to pick up a page and it came apart in his hand. Whatever was written on it, was now a blur of black and red. A wax seal on the edge was still clear, showing the cog symbol of the governor of Eritsa. Each of the four governors had a similar symbol, which, when put together, resembled the workings of some kind of machinery. Evidently when they worked together, Dargyn was supposed to run smoothly. Right now, the machine was all but off its rails, at least from where Brish stood.

  "What are we looking for?" He closed the drawer and tried the one above it. It was in the same state as the first.

  "Notes," Harm replied, his voice muffled as his face was half-buried in a cabinet across the room.

  "Great, thanks." Brish grimaced at his friend's back. "Notes on what?"

  Harm pulled his face back and looked at him. "On us."

  "Us? When did we become so important?

  "When we didn't die."

  "Ah." That left a lot unexplained. "You really think we'll find anything here?"

  "I'm not sure," Harm admitted. "But they killed Daris. They'll kill us too if they know we're involved."

  "And not dead," Brish agreed, understanding his point now. "Do you think the magin will come and find us?" He glanced at the door, his unease rising even further.

  "Yes, them too," Harm said.

  Brish did a double-take. "What do you mean them too? Reason, who else is after me? Us," he
added quickly.

  Harm fixed him with a serious look. "The reasoners."

  "The—why would they care about two bards?" Brish head was spinning and he was starting to wish he'd fled hours ago.

  "Because of what we know." Harm closed the cabinet and moved to another one. "We know Daris was murdered. We think we know the magin did this. What's more, we've known for a while what was going on and who was behind it."

  "So?" Maybe Brish was obtuse, but he couldn't see the connection.

  "Did you go and tell the reasoners?" Harm asked.

  "Of course not!" Brish exclaimed before the implications sunk in. "We didn't tell anyone, so they might think we're involved."

  "Right," Harm said, "we knew, and we survived. That might be viewed as suspicious by some."

  "Or a coincidence." They both knew doing magic was illegal, under sentence of death. Aiding magin was almost as heinous.

  "We know it for what it is, but that doesn't mean others will, or would even care. Not coming forward with knowledge of the magin is an offence, regardless of the circumstances. That'd mean at least a year or two incarcerated. I don't know about you, but I'd prefer than not happen."

  "Me either." Brish opened another drawer and found only another mush of paper. "I doubt anything much has survived anyway. It's all just a mess." Walking around a hall full of bodies felt disrespectful to say the least, and this was a waste of time. "We should just go."