For Promise Yet Unbroken Page 2

  It was a little overwhelming. Jeremey had never seen so many dragons in all his life, and these dragons were wild. For the first time doubt began to creep in, forcing him to wonder if he could really do this after all. He was no one special, just an orphan nobody wanted. What made him worthy of riding one of Noman's great dragons?

  He wasn't strong, or smart, or charismatic, and dragons didn't care one whit about whether or not he could shoot a panicked rock-hopper at five hundred paces. All he had was determination, and no way of knowing if that would be enough.

  Ben nudged him, making him realize he was staring, and Jeremey scrambled down off of Tumbleweed's back. He stumbled as he hit the ground, arms flailing wildly for a moment until he caught his balance, and he could hear more than one snicker behind him. He wiped the scowl off his face before he turned around, looking up at his escorts expectantly.

  Ike smirked and threw something to him, which Jeremey caught reflexively. A shock-lasso. "Okay, kid," Ike said. "Catch one of 'em, if you can."

  Jeremey started. "You want me to use a shock-lasso on a dragon?" he asked in disbelief. If that was how riders caught their dragons, no wonder Zorevan was so touchy.

  Ike and Zack burst into laughter. Ben merely shook his head in exasperation and leaned down a bit. "You don't turn the shock on," he explained. "All you hafta do is rope one of them, but that's a lot harder than it sounds."

  Rope one of them? Well, his parents had been fleep herders, so Jeremey wasn't exactly a slouch with a lasso, but still. "Rope a dragon," he repeated.

  "Yup," Ben agreed, sitting back up straight in his saddle. "Don't bother with the ones on the cliffs, they're not interested. The ones you want will be the group over there." He gestured to where six or seven dragons were milling about an open area relatively clear of scrub, watching without quite seeming to.

  Right. Go over there into the middle of a knot of the most dangerous creatures on the planet, unarmed, and try to put a rope around one of their necks. If it had been Ike or Zack, Jeremey would have passed it off as teasing. But Ben, while not exactly friendly, could usually be counted on for accurate information. He could see nothing to indicate that Ben's habits had changed now.

  Which meant he was about to go do something very stupid—deliberately. Only the fact that he'd done far stupider things in the past kept his nerves steady as he squared his shoulders and stalked out toward the waiting dragons, lasso in hand. He'd come out of all those other incidents in one piece, so maybe his luck would hold this time too.

  The smirks he saw on the waiting dragons' faces had to be his imagination. Or perhaps not, as almost as soon as he reached them, something that felt suspiciously like a dragon tail knocked his feet out from under him, landing him hard on his ass in the dirt. He could hear helpless laughter from his so-called audience as he shot to his feet, face flaming, teeth gritted. Jeremy wasn't giving up that easily.

  Loosing the lasso from its coil, he tied a quick slip-knot and tipped his hat back a little so he could get a good feel for where everything was. The dragons were moving, but that was only to be expected, and he remained perfectly still while he waited. The dragons didn't quite seem to know what to make of that, peering at him curiously, and one even went so far as to lean in close and snort a puff of hot air in his face.

  Jeremey took the opportunity, flicking the lasso out over the creature's head, yanking sharply to tighten it. He only caught the dragon's horns, though that wasn't all that bad considering he hadn't tried to rope anything in years, and maybe it would be enough.

  That thought was lost as the dragon tossed its head, jerking the lasso right out of Jeremey's hands. One foot stomped on the end as the dragon twisted its neck, and the lasso slid right off, falling uselessly into the dust. As Jeremey stared, the dragon snaked away, making odd sounds that, in a human, Jeremey would have been certain were laughter.

  Jeremy flexed his bare hands, then set his jaw and crossed the space to where his lasso lay with wide strides, reaching down to pick it up. He abruptly found himself face-first in the dirt as something shoved him. Jeremey spit out dust as he scrambled to his feet, lasso in hand, and whirled to glare at the dragon that had knocked him down. The creature bared its teeth, and Jeremey swore it was grinning at him.

  Oh no. If he didn't take that kind of shit from the other settlers, he sure as hell wasn't taking it from some giant lizard. Narrowing his eyes, he fed the length of the lasso slowly through his hands until it was right where he wanted it, then let it fly. Right on target, toward the smartass dragon's head.

  There was a flash of sandy red, and he could only stare as he realized that one of the other dragons had snapped the lasso out of midair with its jaws. The beast gave a faint huff and dumped the lasso back onto the ground before practically prancing around Jeremey in a wide circle.

  Fucking dragon. Ike and Zack were laughing even harder now, and a brief look confirmed that Ben's shoulders were shaking as well. Wasn't that just perfect? The damned dragons were humiliating him in front of three men who would be sure to let the rest of the settlement know all about it. He could feel a rising tightness in his chest, an anger that he kept buried lest he do something really stupid.

  He had to concentrate. Try again. There was a greenish-grey dragon that looked promising, but another tail knocked his feet out from under him. Then there was a brown one, but an ill-timed wingbeat sent him sprawling. The same happened with the red and the gold. Every time he thought he had a chance, he'd get knocked in the dirt or the lasso yanked right out of his hands, until he was filthy from head to toe and his hands had been rubbed raw and were starting to bleed.

  Resolutely, Jeremey got back up to his feet. He picked up the lasso gingerly and tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his hands.

  "C'mon, kid, just give up!" a voice called out behind him. "They're not having any of it."

  No, he wasn't giving up. No matter how long it took, how many times he fell, how much he hurt, he was never giving up. One of these dragons would be his, no matter what it took.

  Then, suddenly, none of the animals were in range, when up until that point they'd constantly been twining about him, taunting him with their nearness. He almost felt alone, finding his former targets now a respectable distance away, their attention no longer on Jeremey. Instead, their collective attention was fixed on something else. Something off behind Jeremey's right shoulder.

  He turned.

  It was a dragon. Not any of the dragons he'd been attempting, unsuccessfully, to snare. This must have been one of those watching, though he didn't remember seeing any dragons on the bluffs that were this dazzling blue in color. Sapphire, he thought distantly, meeting the dragon's eyes as it stared back at him. Like the necklace that Miss Starr had always prized so highly back in Deadwood Gulch, only even more beautiful.

  The jewel-bright dragon leaned closer, nosing curiously at him. Its breath was hot and almost ticklish as it inspected him, painful as it caught a mass of unruly curls in its mouth and tugged. Then it released him and its head swung away, only to return a moment later with Jeremey's hat, knocked off during the earlier tussle, dangling from its mouth.

  Jeremey held out his hand for the hat, but rather than give it to him, the dragon arched its neck up over Jeremey and dropped the hat, not quite square, onto his head. When Jeremey had the hat straightened, the dragon was once more staring at him.

  Briefly, his gaze flicked to the lasso still in his hand, then to the vivid blue dragon standing before him. He dismissed the thought before it had formed, reaching out instead with his free hand. "Hey," he said quietly. "You want to be mine?"

  The dragon blew out a puff of breath straight into Jeremey's face before tilting its head into Jeremey's hand. Jeremey caressed the sleek scales as he'd seen Charlie do to Zorevan years before, rewarded when the dragon made a sound he was certain indicated it was pleased. He stroked the beautiful head for a long moment, then turned to stare back at the three riders who'd brought him.

  None of t
hem were laughing now. Two of them had their jaws hanging open in disbelief, and the last was shaking his head slowly. As Jeremey walked back toward them, the sapphire dragon following along docilely, he could see them visibly trying to shake off their shock and had to stifle a smirk. He'd told them he could do it. Maybe not quite in the usual way, but this way was even better. A single glance back at the deep blue dragon confirmed that there was no way he'd ever be as crass as to tie a rope around his neck.

  It was Ben who managed to collect himself first, giving Jeremey a wan smile. "So," he said, still sounding somewhat forced, "what're you gonna call him?"

  Jeremey didn't have to look. He already knew. He knew what the dragon was, what he meant, and he'd known his name long before they'd ever met.

  "Promise," he said softly, reaching out blindly to run his fingers down that sleek muzzle. A promise to himself, to his parents, to Charlie, and to all of Noman. A promise he'd made years ago, and now, finally, could begin to fulfill.

  Ben exchanged a glance with Ike, though wisely none of them questioned him. Instead they sat back firmly in their seats before Ike suddenly began swearing colorfully.

  "What?" Ben asked, frowning at him.

  Ike grimaced. "Did you bring an extra saddle?" he asked.

  Ben blinked, his eyes widening slightly as he shot a glance at Jeremey before they darted back to Ike. "Fuck."

  "Didn't think the kid would actually succeed," Zack grumbled, glaring at Jeremey like it was his fault they were unprepared.

  Ben grimaced but said nothing. Ike swore a little more and then shook his head. "Guess you're riding back with one of us, kid," he said, though he didn't really sound apologetic so much as annoyed. It made Jeremey annoyed in turn, and he had to struggle to keep his expression bland.

  "I think I'll walk," he announced, resting a hand on Promise's head just above his horns.

  "Walk," Zack repeated, then rolled his eyes. "Whatever. C'mon, Midnight." But the dragon ignored him, watching Jeremey and Promise intently, not moving even when Zack began swearing at him. Promise stared back for a long moment and then nudged Jeremey's back.

  Jeremey blinked at him, then shook his head as he fought a smile. "Right, going," he said aloud, starting off back the way they'd come with Promise trailing along behind him. Just as he reached the narrow crevasse that separated the valley from the plains, he glanced back over his shoulder, amused to see that, while Zack had finally gotten Midnight to move, they were now bringing up the rear.

  Which was, in Jeremey's opinion, right where Zack belonged.

  TWO

  After five straight weeks of sentry duty, cleaning the stables, hauling fleep meat for dragon feeding, and running random, pointless errands, Jeremey was fairly well convinced that Jack Sullivan didn't like him. Neither did the rest of the riders, for that matter, but that was their problem. Wasn't his fault their dragons all acted weird around Promise. Though if he thought about it, Sheriff Sullivan's Putere seemed to have the same problem, so that could be part of why Jack disliked him.

  Possible, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. He had no control over what the other dragons did, and he wasn't about to give up Promise for any reason. Not now that he finally had him.

  He looked up, a smile already tugging at his mouth before his gaze got to the dragon's sleek form, curled up in a corner of the stables while he watched Jeremey work. When he noticed Jeremey was looking and not working, he tilted his head, first to one side, then the other, and made a sound that was remarkably like a sneeze.

  Jeremey fought the urge to laugh. "Sorry, Promise," he said instead. "Chores aren't done yet."

  Promise rumbled and snorted, stretching his wings out briefly before settling them back into place. He rose, almost silently, and nosed around in the bedding he'd been lying in. Jeremey could see when he'd found what he'd been looking for, and a moment later something was dropped at his feet with a dull thud. Jeremey looked down, his eyes widening.

  "Promise!" he exclaimed, snatching the blaster up off the floor. "Where did you get this?"

  Every rider on patrol took a blaster with him, but as Jeremey hadn't yet been permitted to leave the settlement, he hadn't been issued one. It was more than a little frustrating, as shooting was one thing he was actually good at. One thing he'd be useful at, if he and Promise were ever allowed to go out on patrol.

  The dragon chuffed contentedly, tail flicking back and forth in what Jeremey swore was devious amusement. He circled around Jeremey, far too quiet for a creature so large, and nudged him in the small of the back.

  "I can't just leave," Jeremey explained patiently, though with a blaster in his hands, he was itching to do just that. "I haven't swept up all the old bedding or put down the new stuff."

  Promise snorted, his breath hot and vaguely fishy as it washed over Jeremey, then twisted about and used his tail to sweep all the old bedding out with one powerful motion. That accomplished, he turned back around to eye Jeremey pointedly.

  Jeremey closed his mouth with a snap and put on his best scowl. "Why didn't you do that before instead of just laying there and watching me, you lazy lizard?" he demanded.

  This time the snort was directly in his face. Before he could even begin to form a retort, the dragon's head moved up, powerful jaws clamping onto the brim of his hat and jerking it up off his head.

  "Hey!" Jeremey protested, making a grab for the stolen object and missing when Promise yanked it out of reach. "Give that back!"

  Completely ignoring the order, Promise ambled toward the stable door, stopping half in and half out and turning to regard Jeremey pointedly. With an exasperated sigh, Jeremey shoved as much new bedding out as he could, kicked it halfheartedly into place, and bolted out after him.

  As soon as he set foot outside, Promise dropped his hat back onto his head.

  "There had better not be any teeth marks in this," Jeremey grumbled.

  Promise rumbled in amusement and sauntered across the dusty yard to the corner the riders liked to use for target practice. He nosed at the random objects littering the ground, picking them up one at a time in his mouth and setting them atop the askew and slightly scorched posts, rearing up to examine his handiwork before slinking back to rejoin Jeremey. Not for the first time, the thought crossed Jeremey's mind that Promise seemed to be a lot smarter than most animals. Hells, the dragon was smarter than most people Jeremey knew.

  Then again, that wasn't really saying much.

  "Rules?" Jeremey asked, absently checking the blaster to make sure it was in proper working order. Promise contemplated the neat row of targets for a moment. Quick as lightning, he snagged the back of Jeremey's shirt, hauling him up off the ground with a half-strangled yelp, then braced himself and leapt up into the air. Powerful wings beat the air hard, then there was a sudden jolt as they landed and Jeremey was set back down on his feet. On the stable roof.

  Slowly Jeremey looked up at the rather smug-looking dragon, rolling his eyes when Promise snorted. "You have issues," he told Promise, getting a face full of teeth in response. He rather suspected the dragon was attempting to grin.

  Pointedly Jeremey looked down at the targets, considering. Even with the added distance and odd angle, it really wasn't much of a challenge if they weren't moving. Then a thought occurred to him, and he swiftly reset the blaster to use concentrated shots rather than wide-spread, his own grin beginning to match that of his dragon. If he wanted moving targets, he was just going to have to convince them to move himself.

  In one easy move, he sighted the end target—a battered metal cube that had seen better days—and fired. The cube leapt into the air, propelled up and back by the force of the blast, and before it could begin its descent back down toward the earth, Jeremey fired again. And again. The sixth shot was slightly off, nicking the cube too far to the right and sending it careening away too fast for Jeremey to hit. He lowered his blaster and peered down, pleased anyway. Six shots in a row wasn't too shabby. And he had four more targets to practic
e on.

  He was distantly aware of Promise watching, and he made certain every shot counted in response to that intense interest. He was down to the last target when he noticed movement down below. Lowering the blaster, he stepped closer to the edge and looked down, hiding a wince at the slight frown creasing Sheriff Sullivan's face.

  "Jasper."

  "Sheriff," Jeremey returned, keeping his eyes on Sheriff Sullivan even as Promise's neck snaked past him, head peering over his shoulder.

  Jack Sullivan stared up at them for a moment, lips pursed in that manner of someone holding back what they wanted to say, then he shifted his stance and crossed his arms. "Get down from there."

  Jeremey glanced at Promise, who tossed his head in refusal even as he moved closer to get a good grip on Jeremey's shirt. A brief leap and a few wingbeats later, they landed, leaving Jeremey faced with Sheriff Sullivan and the rather peculiar way he eyed Promise for a moment before his gaze settled on Jeremey.

  "You are trouble waiting to happen," Jack said in annoyance, "but you're a damn fine shot with a blaster." His eyes flicked briefly to Promise. His mouth tightened before he met Jeremey's eyes once again. "You've got first patrol tomorrow. You'll be riding with Ike. Don't screw it up, and don't do anything stupid." His gaze darted to Promise again before he snorted and turned sharply, stalking back toward the living area.

  Jeremey watched him go with an odd feeling, one that was swiftly buried beneath rising excitement. He turned toward Promise, finding the dragon already looking at him. "Hear that, Promise?" he asked. "We're finally going to be able to start doing some good. Real work. Protecting people, like riders are supposed to do."

  Promise's head bobbed up and down—if he'd been human Jeremey would have said he was nodding—and he leaned in close so that Jeremey could pet him. Laughing, Jeremey complied, though he swore good-naturedly about attention-seeking dragons and what they were good for.