Plague of Dragons by Cordelia Castel

Author:Cordelia Castel [Castel, Cordelia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-01-30T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

I reared back, my gaze stuck on my friend. Red muscle fibers twisted across his face in a rictus of agony, and bloodshot eyes rolled back into bony sockets. The sight of all that exposed flesh combined with the rasp of his labored breaths made my hair stand on end. Stafford hadn’t yet bonded with a dragon. How could he get the symptoms of clearscale?

Roseate’s malicious words tumbled to the forefront of my mind. She had said my condition was contagious. Perhaps she was right.

“Stafford?” I pushed myself off the floor and shuffled to his side.

Beads of sweat glistened on his exposed flesh. “It... hurts...”

“I’ll get you to Dr. Duclair.” Positioning myself on my knees, I hooked one arm under his back and the other under his legs and pulled myself up.

One benefit to being a quarter-ogre was physical strength, but Stafford shifted in my arms, slipping from my grip. He was too big and too sick to wrap his arms around my neck. I stood him upright and bent him over my shoulder. Then I raced around the back of the jailhouse, and across the lawn.

The Healer’s Academy lay straight ahead, beyond the Great Lake. I jogged on the soft grass, keeping my footsteps as gentle as possible, so as not to jostle Stafford and exacerbate his pain. From all directions, people carried sick colleagues. Witches hovered piles of dragon warriors toward the Healer’s Academy. My foot caught a rock, and I stumbled forward, making Stafford bounce.

A deep, pained moan reverberated against my back. Heart twisting, I lightened my footsteps. “Sorry! It looks like you’re not the only one who got sick.”

“Wha...?”

At the gates, Roseate ushered people inside. Next to her stood a tall, copper-skinned witch whose hair reminded me of Master Solum's. As soon as her gaze landed on me, Roseate bared her teeth. “You!”

I bristled. Of all the times to reignite her petty grudge! Couldn’t she put it on hold until after the crisis? She pointed her staff, as though daring me to step forward and get cursed.

As much as I wanted to leap forward and knock it out of her hand, I couldn't risk her turning us both away. Instead, I raised my chin. “I found Stafford like this outside the jailhouse. He needs help.”

“Stay away!" she screeched. "You’re the one who transferred the plague to the ogres. Now everybody’s sick.”

The dark-skinned witch's eyebrows rose, and a pair of dragon grooms carrying a colleague over each shoulder stopped to gape.

My insides cringed. I dipped my head, casting furtive glances at the warriors and witches.

“Plague spreader!” shouted Roseate.

I ground my teeth. “If I was contagious, then Madam Duclair wouldn't have discharged me.”

“Enough bickering, you two,” snapped the second witch. “Place him on the lawn with the others.”

I glanced over her shoulder. The witches levitated unconscious, skinless warriors across the herb gardens and laid them on the chamomile lawn. I clutched Stafford's back. There was no way I could leave my best friend outside in the heat.

A pair of half-ogres sprinted through the gates, hands clasped, arms extended like stretchers.

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