The Last Dragon 2

by LeRoy Clary

  “That arrowhead was poisoning you.”

  “And causing daily pain. I lived with it so long, it seems strange to not have it.” His legs swung over the side of the bed.

  “You can’t stand. You’ll hurt yourself.”

  He paused and then nodded. “I’ve stood on one leg for years to ease the pain from the other. I’ll keep weight off it, but I have to pee.”

  “Oh.” I reached for the chamber pot and placed it on the edge of the bed near him and turned away. When he lifted the lid, the sour smell of vomit filled the cabin. After he finished, I used it too. Then, it went into the passageway with those of other passengers. It was probably no worse than most. I hadn’t been the only one seasick, I was sure.

  Turning back into the room, Flier was still on his feet—both of them. He swayed with the motion of the ship, testing his bad leg in a way that allowed him to fall onto his bed if the sudden pain struck. His eyes lifted to mine. “Who knew?”

  “You could have had that fixed a long time ago.”

  He sadly shook his head and balanced on his good leg. “No money. I can’t tell you how hard it was to fight for enough scraps to eat. There are no jobs in Trager. Anyone with good sense has left. The city has no police, no firefighters, no laws, and the gangs grow worse as the food gets scarcer, which means there is almost no food except in High Trager.”

  “And the king does nothing about it?”

  He gave me another sad look as if I had trouble comprehending the simplest facts. “They tell us there is a king. They tell us what he says or laws he passed. To argue or question if he lives is a death warrant.”

  “You believe him dead?”

  “If he was alive, and the worst king in memory, he would show himself and have some concern for the people he rules. In Trager, I would never say it, not even a whisper, but the king is dead. A mage-council sits at his place.”

  “I’ve heard of a council of nine, or some such number, rules in Dagger.”

  The comment brought a look of surprise, anger, and disbelief. Flier set his jaw and furrowed his eyebrows. Without talking any more, he turned and placed his hip on the bed. “I need rest.”

  “Kendra is bringing more of the sleeping powder.”

  He nodded. “I’ll try without it.”

  “I didn’t get any sleep last night during the storm, so I’ll be sleeping too.”

  “Storm?”

  It was my turn to laugh. Flier had been so sedated he hadn’t realized the terrible night that had passed. Again, the idea occurred that we might have shared the powder. I went to sleep with that thought and a smile on my lips.

  Kendra threw the door open and entered the one full step she was able to move. She handed me a small packet of powder and a small vial. “Two drops in water. Half the powder today, the rest tomorrow.”

  Through sleepy eyes, I peered at her as if she was a wild woman from the Brownlands. “The mages?”

  “The storm moves east with us. The two ships with the mages remain in the same relative places.”

  “Meaning them, and the storm is playing a game of Can’t Cross the Bridge with us.”

  “Yes. Just like that. The mages match our moves, so they can tell where the ship is at. Or one of the wyvern overhead is telling them, I think. There has been one circling all morning.” She pounded a fist into her palm with a smack of sound.

  I hesitated to mention my thoughts but holding back possibilities was not for us. Too dangerous. “It might not be you they sense.”

  She squinted like just before blasting me when I said something stupid. Then, she relaxed as the thought took hold. “Okay . . . it might be you they are tracking, in which case it might as well be me. But it could be someone else. Not Flier or one of the crew, I’d guess. But a passenger?”

  “Not Princess Elizabeth, I added. But someone traveling with her? We know some mages communicate over distances.”

  Kendra said, “True. Or they are following her and reporting, but I sense no mage on our ship.”

  “Can you sense where I am?” the question came naturally, and it was one we hadn’t discussed, even as it was so obvious.

  “No.”

  “It could be another passenger, but I doubt it. It is you, me, or someone in Elizabeth’s company. I think we can rule out the rest.” I glanced at Flier and found him awake and confused at our conversation. From the corner of my eye, the chamber pot and a fresh pitcher of water sat beside Kendra’s feet.

  He said, “Sorry. You’re discussing private subjects. I should leave.”

  Kendra said, “It concerns you, too. Just understand that you can never talk about what we say.”

  Flier said, “You rescued me from the life of a beggar. Had an arrow pulled from my knee. Gave me back my walk and are returning me home, and all you ask in return is silence? I can never repay the two of you.”

  She didn’t back down. “We appreciate all that, but you have to understand there is danger in what we are doing. Great danger, to us and anyone with us. We have placed you in danger, too.”

  “You work for Princess Elizabeth of Dire?” he asked.

  “No,” Kendra said, then relented. “Well, yes, technically we do. But we are also friends and more.”

  He nodded. There was no trace of a smile on his face as he peered into her eyes. His voice grew soft and intense. “Your friends are mine. My fist is yours.”

  “Your sword is mine,” Kendra completed the old oath. They were simple words every child seemed to know, but few said aloud. Legend made the words of the oath ring with solemnity and meaning. The old ways said the two of them were now closer than family. They were sworn to each other. Forever. They would give their lives to protect the other.

  How and why Kendra had taken the oath on the spur of the moment surprised me as much as if she had pulled a rotten peach from her pocket and smashed it in my face. She was not the sort of doing either lightly, nor without consideration. It was a lifelong commitment with Flier.

  How and why she placed such trust in a beggar we barely knew was beyond the scope of my understanding. However, I had known her my entire life and trusted her decisions more than my own. She wouldn’t have taken that oath ten or twenty days ago. However, she was a different woman back then, one without powers yet to be revealed.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  K endra flashed a weak smile in my direction as if she suddenly understood the magnitude of the oath she’d taken with the cripple. It was something of an apology and a commitment at the same time. It appeared Flier had taken the oath just as seriously. I felt left out in the cold on a dark winter’s night.

  Kendra abruptly said, “I should get back to care for the girls.”

  “What about the mages blocking the Gallant with their storm?” My question was spontaneous and assumed facts we didn’t know for sure.

  She shrugged. “We really don’t know how far they will go to stop us, or if they are trying to only stop you and me, but we also don’t know who else on this ship they might be trying to prevent from reaching Dagger. This may be about stopping Elizabeth and her secret mission. Let’s sleep on it. The captain will let us know our options, tomorrow.”

  After she departed, I climbed down and mixed the sleeping powder while avoiding Flier’s eyes. He said, “Forgive me. My knowledge is slight in your travels and objectives, but there is an observation to share. If the rulers of Dagger are so intent on keeping someone on this ship from reaching there, they must consider that person extremely dangerous.”

  “No matter who it is.” My flat agreement ended our conversation, for now. His observation made sense. If they were willing to sink our ship, everyone on board would swim. For a while. Then die.

  Flier accepted the sleeping powder gratefully. I could see how rigidly he held his face, trying to fight the remaining pain in his knee. My admiration for him grew.

  As soon as he slept, I replaced the pitcher in the recess designed to keep it from spilling. The chamber pot went back into its small
area, where it was blocked from sliding across the floor in any direction with the ‘normal’ shifting of the ship, in ‘normal’ storms. Then, I left the cabin. The salon was my natural goal. There I would find conversational tongues loosened by wine, passengers with pent-up anxieties and cabin-fever, rumors, lies, and perhaps a small amount of truth if I listened carefully.

  “Damon,” a talkative little man who was chubby and whose face tended to get very red when he consumed wine or ale—which he did at every opportunity. He viewed himself as tall, thin, and attractive, in my opinion, a common instance in those men short, heavy, or both.

  For all his faults, I liked him, and he talked incessantly about everything with only the slightest provocation. He knew all the dirt on the ship. Leading him into the conversational direction I wished, I asked in a friendly voice, “How are you doing after the storm?”

  He leaned closer, but his voice remained too loud. “Be doing better if we were sailing south to Vin and Dagger instead of east, know what I mean?”

  “I heard we are sailing east to try and get around that terrible storm.”

  “If we’d have pushed ahead instead of turning and running, we’d be through it and heading into the port of Vin by now. I fear our captain is a bit of a coward.”

  His attitude offended me on many levels. My impression was the captain realized we were not making headway, to choose a new option, one that considered the welfare of his passengers. My trust was that the Gallant was a well-built ship, but no ship can withstand the pounding of endless storms. It would take a single hull plank with a flaw or insect damage to weaken it, just one, to send the ship to the bottom. In calm waters, it might never rupture, and if it did, the repairs would be easy and swift. In a raging storm, the danger increased by several magnitudes.

  I said, “Better to be safe than sink our ship—especially with me aboard.

  He laughed and agreed. A seat at the gaming table opened up, and I offered it to my seatmate, but when he refused, I took it. There were five of us, all but one known to me. After a brief introduction, the blocks were sorted, passed to each of us, and serious play began.

  The new player, a middle-aged man called Tome, a resident of Kondor, bid high. Higher than any wager I’d seen since sailing. Three of us instantly folded, but one of the regulars matched the bet. The next tile dealt resulted in the same. The eyes of the regular player gave his intentions away. He didn’t wish to meet the bet, it was beyond his means and far beyond the bounds of a friendly game, but he did. He slid the required amount to the center of the table. His eyes narrowed, he nervously bit his lower lip.

  The new player, Tome, calmly raised again, a massive wager. While he is free to play as he likes, that sort of play is called bullying, because it is. The bully will bet so much the opponent must fold and give up a good hand or face serious financial risk. The regular player, a man who sat to my right hesitated, believing he held a stronger hand but at what cost if he should lose?

  My purse was on my lap hidden to the other players as I counted out my money to place on the table. Without thinking about it, I reached under the table in a way the others wouldn’t see and opened my fist to display a small handful of coins to the regular. “Take them.”

  He nodded, and surreptitiously scraped the coins from my palm to his fist and not only met the bet but raised the wager again, a totally unexpected action. The table went silent in shock. In the center of the table sat a small fortune. Nobody had believed he would match the bet on the table, let alone increase it—and two of the coins he bet were gold. I checked my purse, suspecting more might be required for him to remain in the game, but I’d determined not to allow the bully to roll over a fellow player. It was supposed to be a low stakes friendly game.

  Tome’s face twisted into a snarl. “You didn’t have that much money. Where did you get it?”

  “I have far more than that, my friend, and may have more than one purse. Are you going to match my wager or fold?” The man at my side snarled as if anxious to continue the betting.

  “I must go back to my cabin to get more money.” The bully stood and pushed his chair back.

  “Hold on,” I heard myself saying without thinking. “This has always been a friendly table-stakes game since I’ve been here. Am I right?” I spread my hands and looked at the other players for support. “Table-stakes?”

  They all nodded their agreement to me, but their eyes remained on Tome. His face reddened. “Where’d he get that extra money?”

  “Does it matter?” I asked easily. “He has it here at the table, and that is all that counts. His wager is in the pot.”

  The man on the other side of me, one who had been quiet until now, said, “Match the bet or the winnings are his. Table-stakes rules, as always.”

  Tome abruptly spun in my direction. “You two are in this together.”

  I also stood and kept my voice soft and even. “I am not even in the game, yet. None of the money on the table is mine, so I have no interest except to play a few friendly hands. He matched and raised your bet. Those are the rules of the game. We play with what we bring to the table.”

  He gaped. He wanted to leap over the table at me. But with me standing up to confront him on equal terms, the bully in him hesitated. Standing up as I had, dared him to take action. It also said his bluster didn’t scare me.

  The player at my side who had confronted the bully with his wager was much smaller than either of us. He also stood. “His problem is with me, Damon.”

  I couldn’t allow Tome to attack the smaller man. I said to him in a challenging tone, “You can always take it up with me in Dagger.”

  “You’re never going to get to Dagger,” he said, then his face tinged red, and he backed from the table. Obviously, he’d spoken in anger and out of turn. Said something he wasn’t supposed to. Before anyone could react to his statement, he fled the salon.

  Those of us remaining at the table exchanged puzzled looks. “What was that all about?” I asked. “What did he mean?”

  One of the other regulars asked me, “Have you had problems with him before?”

  “Never seen or met him,” I said.

  “Well, it sure seems like he has it in for you. As soon as you entered, he was watching every move you made,” the same man continued. “He even scooted his chair closer to you, so he could listen to your conversation before you joined us.”

  The one next to me said, as he pulled the pile of coins closer and shoved far more than I’d loaned him my way, “Hey, thanks for helping me out with that hand. He’s been raising everything since he sat down. I was about to quit the game because of it. High betting took all the fun out of the game. But, he was only interested in you.”

  We played on, but my heart and mind were not in it. The money I’d loaned was repaid, the play was friendly and passed the time, but I heard nothing of value in the table-talk. The ship still sailed east, away from land and Trager. The storm remained to our right side, off in the distance. Flashes of lightning on the horizon were like fireflies on a dark night. I didn’t have to ask Kendra where the mages were because I knew where they were. They were on the other side of the storm keeping pace with us and creating our problems.

  I finally said, “Gentlemen, my travel-partner may need me, so I’ll go check on him. I hate to leave you good men to play by yourselves, but I have to go.”

  “Is that the cripple you brought aboard?” the man directly across from me asked, his tone holding no hint of insult or rudeness, just a straightforward question.

  “Yes,” I said. “But don’t let that appearance fool you. Flier is a good man and next time you see him, you’ll be pleasantly surprised.” Before leaving the salon, my eyes scanned the area outside, including what was visible outside the door through the small window. Once on the deck, every shadow, hiding place, above and below, was checked before proceeding. When I moved, it was sudden and quick. My ears listened. I sniffed the salt air searching for the scent of an attacker.

 
; Reaching the door to our cabin seemed a major accomplishment. Inside, Flier slept on. Half his sleeping powder was there beside the water pitcher. After missing so much sleep last night, I didn’t need it. I climbed into my bed and fell under the spell of sleep so deep I might never wake.

  Kendra looked in on us a couple of times. My knife was in my hand each time, but she spoke softly as if sensing my unease and assured me it was her. I woke again when the ship turned in the middle of the night. The motion of the ship had again changed. I lay awake waiting for the crashing of the storm to begin, the rolling and pitching of the ship as it entered the wall of rain, but it didn’t happen. What wind and waves there were, now struck the port side of the ship instead of the starboard. We’d turned completely around and were sailing back towards Trager and not into the storm.

  That was fine with me. I went back to sleep and stayed that way until morning when I heard Flier trying to be quiet as he moved in the cabin. I opened one eye, then the other, as I watched him test his knee. He started out easy and increased the weight on it, only wincing occasionally. However, to offset that, he smiled to himself. Even when thinking he was alone, he smiled, and that told me more than any inquiry.

  That told me all I needed. “Hungry?”

  “Starving.”

  I swung my legs over the side and waited. Since the course change, the ship tilted to the opposite way it had, and it took some getting used to when walking. We stopped at Kendra’s cabin, and they joined us. In the small dining room, all five of us crowded around a single table only large enough to hold our five mugs. We balanced bowls of gruel sweetened with peach slices in our laps and made jokes about it while devouring the blandness with unconcealed eagerness.

  The girls were learning more Common words and used them to spice up the conversation. It amazed me how few were required for communication. Sure, there were times when we didn’t understand, but the girls were old enough to act out those comments as if we played a game. For instance, mimicking sleeping, or using a hammer. Once we identified the correct word for them, they seemed to absorb it as part of their language.