Rise of the Dragons (Kings and Sorcerers--Book 1)

Chapter 23

Alec felt himself rudely awakened by a kick in the ribs and he opened his eyes, exhausted, disoriented, trying to get his bearings. He pulled hay from his mouth, saw he was lying face-first on the ground, and he remembered: the barracks. He had been up most of the night, watching his and Marco's back as the night was filled the sounds of boys fighting, creeping in and out of the shadows, calling out to each other threateningly. He had watched more than one boy get dragged out, feet first, dead—but not before boys pounced on his corpse and raided it for anything they could salvage.

Alec was kicked again, and this time, alert, he rolled over, ready for anything. He looked up, blinking in the blackness, and was surprised to see not another boy but rather two Pandesian soldiers. They were kicking boys all up and down the line, grabbing them, yanking them to their feet. Alec felt rough hands beneath his arms, felt himself yanked up, too, then pushed and prodded out of the barracks.

"What's happening? What's going on?" he mumbled, still unsure if he was awake.

"Time for duty," the soldier snapped back. "You're not here for pleasure, boy."

Alec had wondered when he would be sent to patrol The Flames, but it had never occurred to him it would be in the middle of the night, and so soon after such a long ride. He stumbled forward, drunk with exhaustion, wondering how he could survive this. They had given them nothing to eat since he had arrived, and he still felt weak from the long journey.

Before him a boy collapsed, perhaps from hunger, or from exhaustion, it didn't matter—the soldiers pounced on him, kicking him viciously until he stopped moving altogether. They left him on the frozen ground, dead, and continued marching.

Realizing he did not want to end up like that boy, Alec strengthened his resolve and forced himself wide awake. Marco came up beside him.

"Sleep much?" Marco asked with a wry smile.

Alec shook his head gloomily.

"Don't worry," Marco said. "We'll sleep when we're dead—and we'll be dead soon enough."

They turned a bend and Alec was momentarily blinded by The Flames, hardly fifty yards away, their heat tremendous even from here.

"If trolls come through, kill them," an Empire soldier called out. "Otherwise, don't kill yourselves. At least not until morning. We want this place well-guarded."

Alec was given a final shove, and he and the group of boys were left near The Flames, while the soldiers turned and marched off. He wondered why they trusted them to stand guard, not to run—but then he turned and saw the watchtowers everywhere, manned with soldiers with crossbows, fingers on the trigger, all waiting eagerly for a boy to make a run for it.

Alec stood there, with no armor and no weapons, and wondered how they could expect him to be an effective guard. He looked over and saw some of the other boys had swords.

"Where did you get that?" Alec called out to a boy nearby.

"When a boy dies, get it from him," he called back. "If someone else doesn't beat you to it."

Marco frowned.

"How do they expect us to stand guard with no weapons?" he asked.

One of the other boys, face black with soot, snickered.

"Newbies don't get weapons," he said. "They expect you to die anyway. If you're still here after a few nights, you'll find a way to get one."

Alec stared at The Flames, crackling so intensely, the heat warming his face, and he tried not to think about what lay on the other side, waiting to burst through.