Legions of Bone: Dragon Rider Book 3

Chapter 20: No Stealing. No Killing

Dagen

 Dagen sat on a rooftop and watched the city below. It was dark and most of the street was lined with restaurants. Glowing orange lanterns were strung across the street, from building to building. Outdoor fireplaces were lit while people ate and enjoyed the open theatre that Dagen observed.

An open theater.

Steps had been cut into the grassy hill, the edges hardened in stone for people without blankets or chairs to sit on. Couples sat together, shoulder to shoulder or families pointed to the dancers colorful, loose clothing. Some moved like the elements they tossed and danced around. Fluid like water. Solid like earth and passionate like fire. But every one of them was graceful, their steps moving to the rhythm of the drums.

Dagen's eyes slid over the crowd. Their eyes sparkled, mouths smiling in awe as water and flames collided with a hiss and burst of steam. Earth and vines sprung from the theatre's flooring while air mages lept in the air, never touching the ground.

Eoin pointed to the pretty colored dust plumes exploding across the dancers, bright pinks and reds, blues and purples. He leaned into Dagen's shoulder and Dagen ruffled his hair, both overjoyed at the touch and heartbroken at the reminder of a sensation they once took for granted.

"It's so pretty," Eoin said. "Why can't we do this every day?"

Dagen didn't know how to respond so he nodded to a dancer with warm, bronze skin as she spun powered dye around her and sent it out into the crowd to paint them in bursts of blue and gold.

Eoin beamed. "Do you think I can touch the dust?"

"We have to stay up here," Dagen said. "Remember? Super secret."

His grey eyes widened and Eoin bobbed his head. "Super secret," he agreed.

His attention snapped back to the dance when the crowd erupted into cheers, applauding. Dagen watched him for a moment longer, his heart sinking like a rock in a dark, depthless ocean. He could pretend he and Eoin were there together all he wanted but his brother was still dead.

Dagen looked away, turned his attention back to the crowd as they shuffled out of the theatre and onto the streets.

He had spent almost a week going from town to town, searching for necromancers that would be willing to teach him everything he had once tried so hard to avoid. None of them wanted to risk such things. His kind were being hunted and after what Norah did on Khalier, people had taken to the streets. Many protested while others grouped together with swords and arrows to hunt any necromancer they could find. Dagen had heard the bodies of a few unlucky necromancers had been found, their only crime was being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

He had found Norah almost four days after leaving the islands. He had been wandering with Eoin, searching for a great necromancer he'd heard about when he saw something shift in a dark alleyway. He went to investigate and found a homeless girl stumbling through different alleyways.

Of course, Dagen followed her. She was suspicious enough to bait his curiosity. The trench cloak she wore was too new to be truly homeless and the cotton hat didn't seem baked in dirt. So Dagen trailed after, keeping his body within the walls and only poking his head out when they passed a street where police officers huddled.

The woman stumbled farther away but Dagen heard them. "Mages attacked Khalier, did you hear?"

"Over a hundred-and-fifty death were reported," muttered another.

Dagen had felt the bursts of darkness from that direction. He studied the girl in front of him. Short. And there was a long strand of hair that went down her back that hadn't made it into the hat. Dagen knew he was taking a wild guess, but he had a feeling.